#shels scans
Text
Feather Weather
a/n: i had a silly little idea last year and decided to run with it
wc: ~1.8k
summary: ayato knits a sweater for thoma out of the goodness of his heart
---
"Go on, open it."
Thoma held the box in his hand, looking warily between the unopened parcel and his lord standing in front of him. Gifts from Ayato were always the.. special kind that often resulted in humiliation of some form, usually nothing more than the playful sort, yet were common enough to condition Thoma that keeping his guard up around this particular Kamisato was more than necessary. The seemingly innocent smile that Ayato wore well was no longer enough to fool Thoma at this point.
"What's wrong?" His expression morphed into one of genuine curiosity, yet Thoma knew better, his ears tuned to pick out the traces of mischief often laced into Ayato's voice.
Surprisingly, his voice was clean.
"You know exactly why!" He said after moments of hesitation, prompting an amused chuckle from his lord.
"I'm curious as to what you think could possibly be inside the box," Ayato mused with a delighted glint in his eyes, clearly reveling in the apprehension.
"Anything!" Thoma huffed with a pout. "You manage to turn anything into a prank!"
"You flatter me."
"M'lord, please," came the usual sigh of dismay, contrasting the comical giggles that escaped Ayato's mouth. "I'm not going on anymore boba runs for you if this is something bad."
"Alright, alright," Ayato shook his head, heeding the warning, "I assure you that there's nothing wrong with the gift."
Thoma raised an eyebrow, reading Ayato's voice for the inevitable lie. "You promise?"
"I promise." Ayato proceeded to place a palm to his own heart, ending the gesture with a firm nod. "It was made with love, of course."
"Or demonic ambition."
"And love," Ayato tacked on, flashing a wink that Thoma could only respond with an eye roll.
Despite his suspicions, the package itself lacked hints of ulterior motives. The blue ribbons with silver trimmings were held together over the beige gift box in the form of an awkward bow, handiwork that could belong to none other than Ayato himself. Arts and crafts were not exactly his forte, indicating that Ayato had a direct hand with the package, which only served to further keep Thoma on edge.
Glancing at the parcel with hesitation, Thoma lifted the box and gave it a gentle shake, straining his ears as he repeated the motion twice more. Whatever was inside didn't create much force from the inside, barely tapping against the inner walls of the box. Clothes, maybe?
His fingers pinched at the ends of the ribbons, tugging gently to let the thin piece of cloth fall away, revealing the white cardboard box underneath. Slowly, his fingers pushed at the top and Thoma braced himself for what might just jump out at him, but was pleasantly surprised at what looked to be a sweater. He lifted the sweater from the box, eyes gleaning over the warm orange threads as his fingers dug into the soft material. "Where'd you get this?" was all Thoma could murmur, taking in the sweater in awe.
"I made it myself, of course," Ayato said with pride. "Only crafted with the finest material during my trip to Fontaine. I ran into Chiori along the way and she guided me during the process."
"It looks amazing, m'lord!" Thoma gushed, eyes going over the sweater repeatedly. "Thank you, thank you so much! I-I'm going to wear it now, if that's alright!"
"It's yours, so do with it as you please," Ayato chuckled. "It's the perfect time for sweater weather, after all."
---
The sweater was everything.
It perfectly fit his body without being too snug, allowing for plenty of wiggle room, it was of notably high quality with how the fabric felt delightful against his skin, it even smelled faintly of vanilla, but most importantly, it was warm. And what paired better with a snuggly sweater on a snowy day?
Candles.
Thoma hummed to himself as he sorted through the variety of candles he kept neatly arranged, eyes scanning the shelf for the perfect scent to match his mood. Cinnamon was a classic choice, or he could go with one of the newer ones Ayaka had brought home from Fontaine-
"Ack!"
The sudden feeling of arms wrapped around his waist interrupted his candle perusing, but his nerves were put at ease with the familiar sensation of another's cheek gently nuzzling the crook of his neck. All these years working under the Kamisatos, yet Ayato always managed to sneak around, flying under his nose.
"Enjoying the sweater, love?" Ayato's voice softly brushed against the skin of his neck, sending tingles down his spine.
Thoma could only reply with a simple "mhm" as he relaxed into Ayato's hold, sighing whenever Ayato nuzzled into his neck. Strange to be holding such an intimate moment in the Kamisato Estate's storage closet, but Thoma would take anything he could get, what with his lord always having his hands full, not to mention being pulled away for so long during his recent trip to Fontaine. The occasional kiss to his skin and the gentle caress of Ayato's fingers under his sweater were enough to make his brain stir, causing Thoma to—
Wait a moment....
Ayato's fingers.. under his sweater??
What- How did they get there? His hands repeatedly patted at his abdomen where Ayato's hands currently rested against his thin undershirt, protected by the fluffy material of his new sweater. Surely he would've noticed Ayato's sneaky hands slipper under the hem of his sweater, yet somehow they've managed to evade his watch.
"Something the matter?" His tone was innocent, yet there was that familiar artificial tinge to his lord's sickenly sweet voice.
Something was up.
"M'lord.." Thoma's voice tremored as it dawned that he most likely played into whatever the devil himself had planned.
Yet the sickly sweet gestures persisted, now with gentle but firm grip to undoubtedly keep Thoma in place the minute he attempted an escape. "The little holes in the sweater are so convenient," Ayato explained, perfectly reading Thoma's mind. "They make it so convenient for times like these."
"Holes?! Why does the sweater have holes?! Did you not have the budget for fabric?" Thoma couldn't even begin to wrap his head around what purpose this would serve, let alone how he never noticed such a detail, or lack thereof, in the first place. This would teach him to never get too excited over what should've been a harmless gift, archon forbid.
Ayato hummed in response, drumming his fingers against Thoma's torso that made the blond fidget. "Ah, you seem to be misunderstood," he sing-songed, his chin resting atop Thoma's shoulder. "It's an intended feature, of course. I can show you, if you'd like."
He was too afraid to ask, not that it mattered in the end.
"Wah- no! Nohoho! Whahahat are you dohohoing?!"
"Mm, is it not obvious?"
It was a rhetorical question, no doubt, yet there was a sliver of hope that Thoma himself was mistaken, only for those thoughts to be quickly dashed when Ayato's hands persisted, running up the length of Thoma's torso, each touch penetrating the thin material of his undershirt to make the blond squirm. His body twisted and squirmed in response, his own hands grasping uselessly at the other set currently messing with him, anything to escape whatever Ayato had planned.
"Isn't it excellent? A comfy sweater designed for easy access to tickle its wearer," Ayato expressed in low tone, bordering a whisper, though he made no attempt at masking the amusement in his voice.
"B-But you tihihickle mehehe all the tihihime!" Thoma managed through his snickers, squealing when one of Ayato's hands sneakily squeezed at one of his pecs.
"But this is more fun, no?"
"NOHOho!" The desperate cry was enough for Ayato to laugh alongside the giggly retainer, a contrasting mix to Thoma's own frantic laughter. He could just picture the smirk playing on his lips. "EheheheHAHA! Let gohoho! Stahahap!"
"Mmm, but I don't believe I can, even if I wanted to," Ayato remarked. "If you keep moving, my hands will be tangled up in the sweater. Best you do your best and sit still."
But he couldn't, not with how methodical the tickling was. Ayato wasn't the type to go in for the kill, as Thoma knew very well, often going through the bits and pieces in a more systemic way. A pinch to his side, tweaks to his ribs, finger drabbles along his underarms, even going so far to poke at his navel. Thoma could never get a read when he needed it the most, often distracted by Ayato's signature brand of teasing that somehow elevated the subtle pricks into something more unbearable, dissolving Thoma into helpless giggles the further his defenses broke down.
"And, y'know, why stop at sweaters?" Ayato pondered over Thoma's laughter. "Pants with slits at the hips, some modified tabis, maybe even just borrowing a crop top from the traveler."
The teases were enough to send Thoma over the edge, unable to protest once Ayato went down the list of clothing choices he could potentially threaten Thoma with. Laughter after laughter poured over, filling the small storage room with hapless shrieks as Ayato's hands made the most of the custom sweater and its unfortunate victim.
"HeheHAHA! No! Cohohome ohohon! Stahahap PLEAHAH-!"
Despite the menace Ayato often lived up to be, there was still the other side of the coin, the merciful part that knew not overburden his favorite tickle victim. Per routine, the tickling ebbed to a relaxed rhythm, still procuring giggles, while allowing Thoma more leeway to breathe, before his fingers came to steady stop, drumming along Thoma's torso once more as they awaited the blond's next action. Now, with the loosened grip, Thoma used the opportunity to quickly detach himself from Ayato before his lord could have a change of heart, allowing himself to catch his breath, ignoring the smug smirk that Ayato wore well.
"I'm fixing this sweater," Thoma finally exhaled.
"No! You absolutely cannot!" There was a genuine tinge of disappointment behind Ayato's voice, one that didn't commonly occur. "I put a lot of effort into making this."
"Yeah, a lot of effort for evil," Thoma snapped with a tilt of his head.
"It started out with love, I assure you," Ayato explained, shifting his eyes about. "I might have gotten sidetracked during the process, but I can make you a normal one, as long as you promise to keep this one.. and maybe occasionally wear it every once in a while."
Thoma opened his mouth to respond, only for a sigh to escape his lips at the ridiculous request, yet the puppy eyes Ayato flashed him practically forced him to reconsider. "Alright, alright."
"Fantastic!" Ayato's eyes lit up at the response.
"Uh-uh, but on one condition," Thoma tacked on, earning himself a curious glance. "I get to make you an identical piece. That way we'll be matching for sweater weather."
195 notes
·
View notes
Text
Lingthusiasm Episode 91: Scoping out the scope of scope
When you order a kebab and they ask you if you want everything on it, you might say yes. But you'd probably still be surprised if it came with say, chocolate, let alone a bicycle...even though chocolate and bicycles are technically part of "everything". That's because words like "everything" and "all" really mean something more like "everything typical in this situation". Or in linguistic terms, we say that their scope is ambiguous without context.
In this episode, your hosts Lauren Gawne and Gretchen McCulloch get enthusiastic about how we can think about ambiguity of meaning in terms of scope. We talk about how humour often relies on scope ambiguity, such as a cake with "Happy Birthday in red text" written on it (quotation scope ambiguity) and the viral bench plaque "In Memory of Nicole Campbell, who never saw a dog and didn't smile" (negation scope ambiguity). We also talk about how linguists collect fun examples of ambiguity going about their everyday lives, how gesture and intonation allow us to disambiguate most of the time, and using several scopes in one sentence for double plus ambiguity fun.
Read the transcript here.
Announcements:
In this month’s bonus episode we get enthusiastic about the forms that our thoughts take inside our heads! We talk about an academic paper from 2008 called "The phenomena of inner experience", and how their results differ from the 2023 Lingthusiasm listener survey questions on your mental pictures and inner voices. We also talk about more unnerving methodologies, like temporarily paralyzing people and then scanning their brains to see if the inner voice sections still light up (they do!).
Join us on Patreon now to get access to this and 80+ other bonus episodes. You’ll also get access to the Lingthusiasm Discord server where you can chat with other language nerds.
Also: Join at the Ling-phabet tier and you'll get an exclusive “Lingthusiast – a person who’s enthusiastic about linguistics,” sticker! You can stick it on your laptop or your water bottle to encourage people to talk about linguistics with you. Members at the Ling-phabet tier also get their very own, hand-selected character of the International Phonetic Alphabet – or if you love another symbol from somewhere in Unicode, you can request that instead – and we put that with your name or username on our supporter Wall of Fame! Check out our Supporter Wall of Fame here, and become a Ling-phabet patron here!
Here are the links mentioned in the episode:
Wikipedia entry for Everything Bagel
'Shel Silverstein's hot dog and the domain of "everything"' post on Language Log
Wikipedia entry for 'Scop' (an oral poet)
'New publication: Reported evidentiality in Tibeto-Burman languages' post on Superlinguo
Wikipedia entry for Tom Swifty
'Bench in honour of Nicole Campbell, who never saw a dog and didn't smile' post on All Things Linguistic
WALS entry for Feature 144B: Position of negative words relative to beginning and end of clause and with respect to adjacency to verb
'A few notes on negative clauses, polarity items, and scope'
'I didn't ask you to kill him' Learning English post on sentence stress and meaning
'I didn't ask you to kill him' sentence stress example in action by @dheanasaur on TikTok (⚠︎warning, loud sound)
Non-manual Markers in ASL / NMM's
'The Impulse to Gesture: Where Language, Minds, and Bodies Intersect' by Simon Harrison
'Quantifier Scope Jokes' post on All Things Linguistic
'Caring for your baby since 1890' ambiguity post on All Things Linguistic
You can listen to this episode via Lingthusiasm.com, Soundcloud, RSS, Apple Podcasts/iTunes, Spotify, YouTube, or wherever you get your podcasts. You can also download an mp3 via the Soundcloud page for offline listening.
To receive an email whenever a new episode drops, sign up for the Lingthusiasm mailing list.
You can help keep Lingthusiasm ad-free, get access to bonus content, and more perks by supporting us on Patreon.
Lingthusiasm is on Bluesky, Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, Mastodon, and Tumblr. Email us at contact [at] lingthusiasm [dot] com
Gretchen is on Bluesky as @GretchenMcC and blogs at All Things Linguistic.
Lauren is on Bluesky as @superlinguo and blogs at Superlinguo.
Lingthusiasm is created by Gretchen McCulloch and Lauren Gawne. Our senior producer is Claire Gawne, our production editor is Sarah Dopierala, our production assistant is Martha Tsutsui Billins, and our editorial assistant is Jon Kruk. Our music is ‘Ancient City’ by The Triangles.
This episode of Lingthusiasm is made available under a Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial Share Alike license (CC 4.0 BY-NC-SA).
#linguistics#language#lingthusiasm#episodes#podcast#podcasts#episode 91#scope#ambiguity#scope ambiguity#linguist humour#SoundCloud
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
What you fight for! Pt.2- Home sweet home
Masterlist
Summary: Julia convinces Daryl to play the famous college drinking game never-have-I-ever, which always ends with feelings getting hurt.
Warnings: age gape, adult language, alcohol, underage drinking, angst, irresponsible use of fire.
WC: 6.6k
Daryl continues their way from the golf club further in the forest, comfortably, enjoying the presence of one another.
“A motorcycle mechanic,” Julia breaks the silence, taking up Zach’s guessing game of Daryl’s occupation.
“Huh?”
“That’s my guess. For what you were doing before the turn…Did Zack ever guess that one?”
Julia glances upon Daryl beside her. Letting out a breath he answers simply,
“It doesn't matter. Hasn’t mattered for a long time.”
Not a motorcycle mechanic, got it.
“Just what people talk about you know, to feel normal.”
Always alert Daryl keeps a close eye on their surroundings making him look ahead, as he casually responds,
“Yeah, well that never felt normal to me.”
…
They stand before a large shack, run-down like most places sins the turn.
“Found this place with Michonne,” Daryl revealed.
“I was expecting a liquor store”, Julia declared confused.
“No, this is better”, he said confidently. According to Daryl, a much better option for Julia’s first drink.
Daryl leads her onwards
Daryl fills a box filled with Mason jars from the small shed with a clear liquid inside, making her curious.
"What's that?”
“Moonshine”, he hands her the box filled to the brim with clanking Mason jars. Daryl knows peach schnapps is gross unless there’s about a pound of sugar with it making this a much better option.
“Come on”, he urged, as a hint of a smile plaid on her lips.
The door creaks as Daryl steps into the main room of the shack, scanning every corner of Its run-down interior. Glancing behind the door in the kitchen area Julia approaches close behind as Daryl mosions with his head it’s clear. She puts down the heavy box of booze on the dining table. Blowing out dust from a glass Daryl pores a small portion of moonshine, placing it in front of her on the table, making her put her attempt down to the side, gazing up at him.
“All right” -Daryl breathes. “That’s a real first drink right there”, -he stated confidently, -Standing, fidgeting with the jar lid before placing it on the table. But Julia got quiet, as if nervous.
“What’s the matter?” He asks.
“Nothing”, she rushed. She continues, shaking her head as if contemplating, “It’s just…” Julia gazed up at Daryl. “My grandaddy said bad moonshine can make you go blind”. But that was just a bad excuse of course.
“Ain’t nothing worth seeing out there anymore anyway,” he encouraged.
Julia couldn't argue with that, so she didn't contemplate too long, going against her grandaddy's warning nor that she was still too young to be drinkin.
The world had ended, no one would care anyway.
Letting out a sigh, she takes a small sip, frowning with a gross out face, and does what most do during their very first drink.
“That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever tasted.”
Daryl shrugs, it’s moonshine after all.
Bottoms up, downing the last sip, placing the glass down, “Second rounds better,” she chuckles gazing up at Daryl with a girlish smile.
“Slow down," he warns. Julia didn't look like someone who could take so much, and drinking on an empty stomach he knows all too well is a bad idea.
Reaching the Mason jar filling the glass once more Julia looks up at Daryl,
“This one’s for you,” she insists.
“No, I’m good,” he declines.
"Why?" She looks at him with disappointment.
“someone’s gotta keep watch,” he reminds her.
Right, what a bummer.
Julia was really looking forward to her drink making her feel a bit annoyed she couldn't have this moment, just this once, making her comment bak.
“So, what, you're like my chaperone now?” She said sarcastically.
Daryl immediately became awkward, “Just drink lots of water,” he answered unamused, stepping past her as she sighs ,
“Yes, Mr. Dixon.”
…
Taking shelter in the main room in the ransacked shack, for the rest of the day, Daryl busy himself with nailing up the windows, mumbling incoherently with nails in his mouth. Julia on the other hand sits on her knees investigating the reaments until she finds a bra-shaped planter/ashtray. Astonished by such a ridiculous item she breaks the silence and places it before her.
She chuckles, “Who’d go into a store and walk out with this?”
Daryl paus his hammering, turning towards her with the hammer in his right.
“My dad, that’s who”.
Julias hands paus, eyes starring in response.
Daryl continues, “Oh, he’s a dumbass,” and that he was. “He’d set those up on the TV set, use them as target practice,” Daryl said, making motions with his free hand towards where the TV would have been.
Her eyes go wide, raising her eyebrows as if taken back by the calmness in his tone.
“He shot things inside your house?” She said worriedly. Julia never really had a dad growing up, but she understood Daryl’s mustn't have been a good one.
Daryl went on, “It was just a bunch of junk anyway.” He continues and admits, “That’s how I knew what this place was. That shed out there, my dad had a place just like this.” Daryl starts pointing things out with the hammer in his hand. “You got your dumpster chair. “That’s for sitting in…and your drawers all summer drinking. Got your fancy buckets. That’s for spitting chaw in after your old lady tells you to stop smoking.” He picks up some nearby newspaper, “You got your …Internet.” He lets it fall to the floor.
Julia realized this was the milieu that bore Daryl, the man he came to be. How he immediately found the hideout stash of moonshine or at least Daryl before the turn, she thought before a walker outside interrupted. Making her rise still on her knees as Daryl held out a finger, motioning her to keep putt, and she did as he looked through the now covered window.
“It’s just one of ‘em,” Daryl conferms, turning back towards her.
“Should we get it?” She asks anxiously.
“If he keeps making too much noise, yeah”, he spoke softly, keeping his voice down.
“Well,” she turned her head towards the mason jars beside her, grabbing one “..if we’re gonna be trapped again, we might as well make the best of it.” She looks up at Daryl with a kind smile and a mason jar in her outstretched arm towards him. Eyes big and round as she lightly heartly jokes, “Unless you’re too busy chaperoning, Mr. Dixon."
Daryl couldn't argue, she was right, “Hell, might as well make the best of it”, he grabbed the moonshine from her hand lounging himself in the armchair beside her. He puts his one foot resting on his knee, leaning back, lifting his drink in a toast glancing down to Julia, “Home sweet home." Swallowing down a big sip of moonshine, she follows suit taking a smaller sip of the remnants in her glass.
…
Julia has convinced Daryl to take part in the popular college drinking game never have I ever. Sitting in the middle of the main room with an upside down box as their table, each has a drink placed, sitting on the floor across from each other. Julia sits on her knees, hands on the table fidgeting with her glass meanwhile Daryl sits in a more lendback manner, with one arm, hand flat on the floor holding his weight while his other elbow rests on one knee in a sluggish manner biting his nails, gazing shyly for instructions.
How this girl made him participate in all these things he would never know, but here he was in a moonshine shack, a couple of miles out from the prison, drinking with a girl half his age.
Daryl listens intently as Julia explains the game.
“So first I say something I’ve never done and if you have done it, you drink, and if you haven’t, I drink…Then we switch.”
Daryl stairs, quiet as ever. Making her question. “You really don’t know this game?”
“I never needed a game to get lit before,” he answers, chewing on his nail.
“Wait, are we starting?” Julia asked, confused.
Daryl questions, pointing a finger, not accusing, but questioning.
“How do you know this game?” His deep blue eyes narrowed.
Nothing could get past Daryl, with his perceptive sense, easily reading people like the back of his hand, he would put one and one together recognising any dishonesty.
“My friends played.” Julia shakes her head. “I watched,” How she replied a little too quickly and tensed just the slightest he got his answer, it was way too obvious, almost amusing, but he went no further.
Julia down plays Daryl’s questioning, starting the game with the first question.
“Okay, I’ll start.” She likes her lips as she thinks before speaking. “I’ve never shot a crossbow,” She starts off innocently. “So now you drink.”
“Ain’t much of a game,” Daryl downs the first sip of moonshine.
“That was a warm-up.” "Now you go.” Julia insisted, eager to keep playing.
"Mm mh", he grunts, averting his gaze. “I don’t know,” he bites on his fingernail again.
“Just say the first thing that pops into your head”, Julia encouraged.
But the thing was with Daryl, when he would get shy his mind went blank, unable to think clearly. She seemed so excited about this game, so he did his best.
“I’ve never been out of Georgia,” he says, looking at Julia.
“Really?” She didn't expect that. “Okay, good one,” smiling in a satisfied manner as he plays along she takes a sip, taking her turn as Daryl keeps his gaze on her.
“I’ve never…been drunk and did something I regretted,” she dares to ask, with a sly smile.
Scratching his stubble before reaching for his drink dawning his second sip, he clarifies, “I’ve done a lot of things,” he insinuates, lifting his brows.
Daryl becomes quiet again, gazing downwards as if unsure what to say.
“Your turn”, she reminds him.
He lifts his gaze, giving in again as he takes his turn. “I’ve never been on vacation.”
“What about camping?,” She was quick to question.
“No,” he shakes his head. “That was just something I had to learn…To hunt,” he scratches his stubble again in a more soothing manner as he remembers his old man.
“Your dad teach you?”
“Mm hmm.” he hums, voice deep, rumbling in his chest.
“Okay,” she downs her second sip, feeling a little bit tipsy, she dares to ask, without much thought behind the words.
“I've never… been in jail.”
Daryl became silent, sitting there glaring with a cold gaze as his chest rises and falls, in a heavy rhythm. His blue-eyed gaze becomes almost black as bitterness burns his chest. Meanwhile, Julia was too fuzzy from the alcohol to recognise this.
“I mean, as a prisoner,” she clarifies fidgeting with her empty glass.
Daryl glares, unblinking for a moment before questioning. “Is that what you think of me?” He breathed a sigh of disappointment.
“I didn’t mean anything serious. I thought, you know, like the drunk thing,” she shakes her head looking down as she defends her question. “Even my granddaddy got locked up for that back in the day.” Julia blinks as her gaze is back on him.
“Drink up,” Daryl reminds shortly, but Julia keeps on pushing it, smiling that girlish smile.
His past was nothing to joke about and certainly no game.
The once innocent drinking game had turned into something personal and ugly. But Julia doesn't realize she's stepping over the line.
"Wait." Prison guard. Were you a prison guard before?”
For a moment Daryl onely glares… Blue eyes unamused, disappointed in something he should have known. His voice had gone low, like gravel and stones, “No.” He denies.
Fidgeting with the glass she tries to keep on with their drinking game. “It’s your turn again,” her smile turned awkward, sensing something was wrong.
Daryl was fed up, grunting as he stands to full height, excusing himself,
“I’m gonna take a piss,” he walked to the corner of the kitchen area, drunk and despondent he dropped his jar of moonshine, shattering it all over the floor.
“You have to be quiet,” Julia reminds, in a hushed tone.
“Can’t hear you! I’m taking a piss!
“Daryl, don’t talk so loud!” Julia whispered with a harsh tone.
“What are you my chaperone now?” He snaps, glaring. Julia averts her gaze, fidgeting with the glass in her hands.
Buckling his belt, turning back towards her, he starts his never-have-I-evers in an especially mean spirited tone.
“It’s my turn right? I’ve never, uh… Never eaten frozen yogurt. Never had a pet pony,” he spat, becoming more angry by every sentence. “Never got nothing from Santa Claus,” he exclaims, hitting the kitchen chair with the box filled with mason jars clinks as the chair almost tipped over. “Never relied on anyone for protection before.” He steps closer. “Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever relied on anyone for anything!"
“Daryl,” she shook her head-worriedly, as he was greatly scaring her. Making Julia regret her every word. But she felt she was not meant to be frightened of someone she had begun to trust.
Daryl takes a breath as he keeps on talking harshly. "Never sing out in public playing house wife, like everything was fun, like everything was a big game!"
Julia inhales an anxious breath as he turns from her for just a moment. Daryl exhaled sharply before speaking towards her again.
"Never have I seduced every man in the prison, like a whore looking for attention." He engages towards her, pointing an accusing finger, making her fidgeting hands pause and spine tense. Her heart thumps hard in her chest staring with wide-eyes upon him.
Julia was hurt and confused. She always kept to herself, even avoided the men at the prison. The only one was Zack, as he was a friend. But he died on a run, weeks before the prison fell. She was no whore, the whole reason she wore the ankle-length skirt was to cover herself from any unwanted attention. She didn't like when people looked at her and certainly not men for that matter.
Thuds and growls from the nearby walker averts Daryl's attention.
"Oh, sounds like our friend out there is trying to call all of his buddies!” He says loudly, kicking an empty can on the floor, making more unnecessary noise and Julia more anxious off the railed up walker.
“Daryl, just shut up!” She warns him urgently in a hushed voice. He was going to get them killed.
Grabbing his crossbow ponting an outstretched arm towards her, ignoring her warning, he engages with strong strides, “Hey, you never shot a crossbow before?!” He doesn't give her a chance to answer. “I’m gonna teach you right now!” Daryl grabs Julia by the wrist firmly, making her gasp.
“Come on. It's gonna be fun!” He kicks the door open with such force it slams into the wall making the shack shake. Julia struggles in his grip, dragged along like nothing as she tries desperately to get sense in him.
“We should stay inside!” She said as Daryl continued dragging her down the porsche. “Daryl, cut it out! Daryl!" She begs him only to be ignored and dragged further along towards the walker Daryl’s unsober state seems unsettlingly interested in.
The walker growles, dragging its rotten feet towards them. Slightly panicked, she stays behind him, anxiously.
“Dumbass,” he taunts the walker, as he aims, “Come here, dumbass,” he fires a bolt, pinning it to the tree but not killing it.
“Daryl-,” she begins.
“You want to shoot?” He says, reloading the crossbow.
She turns quickly towards him as he engages, making her stutter. “I…I don’t know how.”
“Oh, it’s easy. Come here.” Daryl pants. “Right corner.” Warm breath hits her neck, she gasps as he spun her around by the touch of his hand on her shoulder, pulling her in, pressing her back against his chest, manhandling her with one arm holding just above the clouds of her breasts, making her grab his forearm for leverage as his broad frame diminishes hers. While his other hand single handedly welds the crossbow aiming upon the walker pinned against the tree, easley trapping her he moves his free hand, shooting the walker's leg.
Daryl releases her only to bend down and reload.
"Let's practice later," Julia pleads, facing him.
“Come on, it's fun,” he says, pulling the bowstring back and hocking it.
Fun!? Is he out of his mind!?
“Just stop it! Daryl!” Julia begs, but of course gets ignored again.
“Come here,” he breaths, spinning her around, pulling her bak as he yanks her against his chest closer this time, with his arm holding her firmly over her shoulder as his hand is back above the clouds of her breasts, with the crossbow resting on her opposite shoulder giving her no other choice then giving in to his rough touche a strangled breath leaves her lips.
He takes a breath steding her -Then exhales. “Eight ball,” he releases the third bolt.
“Just kill it!” She exclaims facing him, with eyes desperately pleading for him to stop. But Daryl walk’s right past her.
“Come here, girly.” He waves for her to follow. “ Let’s pull these out. Get a little more target practice.”
But Julia had enuff, unwilling to take Daryl’s bullshit any longer, she does what she has never dared, but with moonshine in her blood she stomps past him and stabs the walker in its head.
Of course Daryl wasn't happy about his little practice game coming to an abrupt end. Making him become at once firm and angry as irrational rage overcome him. She could tell by the look in his face with those piercing blue eyes and how the tone of his voice became lowered.
He scolds her, face to face -standing inches apart.
“What the hell you do that for?” “I was having fun.”
“No, you were being a jackass.” She calls him out, blinking with her brows furrowing. “If anyone found one of those kids…” she pointed towards the dead walker.
“Don’t.” He cut her off sharply, pointing a daring finger in her face, shaking his head -warningly. “That ain’t remotely the same.”
“Killing them is not supposed to be fun,” she scolds back.
Daryl narrows his gaze, advancing loomingly like a shadow swallowing her up, “What do you want from me, girl, huh?!” He growled in her face, making her take a step back.
“I want you to stop acting like you don’t give a crap about anything” She gazed up at Daryl. “Like nothing we went through matters, like none of the people we lost meant anything to you,” her gaze lowered then back at him again, Inhaling a needed breath she finally speaks up from the top of her lungs. “It’s bullshit!”
His imposing stance dissipates, taken back by every word spoken wish such heart, as if every cell from her body begged him to understand. But he didn't know how to take it nor what to do with it, only listened, with his mouth agape panting heavily before questioning.
“Is that what you think?” He advanced aging.
“That’s what I know,” she tells him as a fact. Her eyes begin to water, eyebrows furrowing as her lower lip begins to quiver.
“You don’t know nothing,” Daryl hissed, glaring, causing Julia to step back, uneasily on her feet. But it didn't stop her from rambling on, not caring if a tear would fall or if she would break down before him as her voice became unsteady -quivering as she spoke with the utmost honesty -unafraid as her eyes looked intensely into his blue ones.
She shakes her head, “I know you look at me and you just see another dead girl”. She brushes her hair out of her face, “I’m not Beth, and I’m not Carol.”
He stands finding it difficult holding their gaze -Taken back as she speaks.
“I’ve survived and you don’t get it ‘cause I’m not like you or them’.” She takes a breath pushing through the tightness in her throat. “But I made it, and you don’t get to treat me like crap just because you’re afraid.” She makes motions with her hands in the air.
Daryl steppes closer as his heart pounds, blood boils, rushing through his veins.
“I ain’t afraid of nothing.” Daryl hissed, able to kill flesh with his tongue, leaning slightly forward, becoming eye level with her.
Julia's heart smacks in her ribs, unable to describe the look in his eyes. The way he glares. It was like nothing she had ever seen before as his towering figure once more made her feel ever so small. Like a hunter stalking its prey, imposing and terrifying, growling in her face with such a low and primal tone, makes her mouth become dry. Her eyes were burning…Staring into his, because she could clearly see he was simply hiding behind his outwards strength, like armor masking guilt, a brokenness, something she couldn't pinpoint but she could certainly sense it. She could even see it in his eyes, deep as the ocean, stormy as the sea itself.
“I remember." She begins. A hesitant breath..then. “Back at the prison. When I came running with Marline and you were alone…You were like me.” He turned away, avoiding her teary gaze as his face contorted in pain because her assumptions are true, he was afraid even scared.
As Daryl was quiet Julia continued, engaging, not as imposing nor as threatening due to her height difference, but she was firmer now when she knew she was getting to him, not to make him angry but to show he had a heart.
“And now God forbid you ever believe with evidence in your hand, not even after Marlene gave you that map, you don’t dare to let anybody, anything get too close.”
“Too close, huh?" Daryl faces her again as she nods heavily in ‘that it is exactly what she believes’.
Daryl glares back, “You know all about that,” he argues back, pointing an accusing finger in her face. He takes a breath. “You lost your boyfriend, you didn't even shed a tear!” He points to his eye." The whole prison is gone, all you can do is just go out looking for hooch like some dumb college bitch!” He shouts in her face, swinging his arm enhancing every word.
Julia got quiet for a moment, thinking back to her friend Zack, how she didn't cry when the news came, and she didn't know why she never did cry nor the fact she never mourned him. But that was a nun of his business.
“Screw you. You don’t get it.” She defends with eyebrows scrunched together as lips tightens in irritation.
Daryl’s jaw clicks. Awakening a burning rage he didn't know how to counteract as if she had flipped a switch, igniting an animalistic response, replaced by the little fondness he began to grow towards her. Daryl tried to calm himself, but he had to make her understand because she acted as if everything was fine when he assumed otherwise. It didn't matter if he had to shake her into reality. And in the heat of the moment Daryl didn't care as he shouts the loudest he has done this far, without even hearing himself..
“No, you don’t get it! Everyone we know is dead!”
“You don’t know that!” She shouts back within inches from his face. Digging nails into her palms.
“Might as well be, ‘cause you ain’t never gonna see ‘em again!”
Julia was taken back, he was being cruel. Her gaze lowered as tears trickled down her face.
Daryl went on, “Marlene…”
He starts to shout, pointing a finger in her face. “you ain’t never going to see Judithe again!”
“Daryl, just stop”, Julia pleaded. She reached for his arm only for him to yank it away, turning his back facing her.
But then Daryl finally got to the heart of his pain, “The Governor rolled right up to our gates,” his voice wavered, panting as his anger dissipated. Julia stands close behind listening carefully.
“Maybe if I wouldn't have stopped looking. Maybe ‘cause I gave up. That’s on me,” he blames himself pointing a finger towards his chest, still turned from her.
“Daryl,” Julia reached out again to comfort him in any way. “No,” he cranked out, feeling how his vision became blurry with the last confession left on his heart.
“And them kids…. Maybe… Maybe I could have done something.”
Her heart broke hearing his voice wever in pain and despair. Every cell in her body screamed for her to hold him. And that was what she did, raping her arms around his torso and her head rests against his back and he aloud her, finding it impossible keeping his guard up any longer.
Julia wondered how long it had been since someone had shown Daryl simple, caring like this. He seemed so touch-deprived as she held him, weeping like a man that had carid the world upon his shoulders even tho knowone asked him to. As his stiff body relaxed leaning into her, she tightened her grip.
Maybe the reason he taped her arm or her back before, was because he was uncertain how much he was allowed to touch her, because knowone had ever shown him?
Julia hoped he was going to be okay. She inhaled deeply as her chest breathed in sync with his, feeling how his beating heart began to settle, and how his warmth radiated off his skin, it felt pleasing against hers -even on a late summer day like this.
Perhaps she needed his touch as much as he seemed to need hers?
In that moment, in her embrace, holding him like the night hugs the moon. For a moment Daryl forgot his anger and the pain glazing his eyes. The pins and needles in his heart shrink and shrivel in size. The feeling of her soft body pressed against his felt like the most gentle of touches.
Julia is the first girl who has ever been nice to Daryl. So he lets his guard down. Allowing her light to penetrate him. Even her arms radiate safety and hope and everything Daryl always thought was just out of reach within the walls he’s built around himself. Making the future feel a bit warmer, brighter, not as engulfed in shadows as he had felt for a long time.
For every tear he weeped Daryl didn't feel less of a man even though this was the most vulnerable he's ever been before. But in her embrace his soul breathes.
Daryl would never tell her but he would like to be held in her arms forever.
…
The night air is cool and light, soothing against skin as they relax on the porch. Calm and composed after their intense outburst they lean against a post across from one another, sitting with their knees bent in front of their chest, each with a mason jar placed. They were quiet for a while.
Daryl pickies on a wooden plank with his knife while Julia gazed tiredly. Her whole body felt warm and buzzed, as if she was one giant vibrating being. She watches Daryl continuously pick and pick again with his gaze concentrated as his head hangs low.
Julia breaks their silence -softly.
“I get why my grandparents stopped drinking.”
Daryl lifts his gaze
“You feel sick?” He asked, with a soft expression, as if he was sorry.
"Nope." I wish I could feel like this all the time…That’s bad.” She spoke calmly with a small smile.
“Hmm,” he hums -Lifting his gaze again. “You’re lucky you’re a happy drunk.”
Julia lowers her gaze slightly
“Yeah, I’m lucky.” Their eyes met, but Daryl lowered his gaze. “Some people can be real jerks when they drink.” She said sarcastically.
“Yeah, I’m a dick when I’m drunk.” He grunts, smiling shyly, fidgeting with the knife on the post pole in front of him before lowering it with his gaze back on the planks as he falls silent.
Dayl diden’t understood himself half the time and -He felt like a fucking asshole -A dick. He didn't mean to be cruel nor hurt her. He never fucking ment to and yet he always ended up saying things -That even jolted himself sometimes. Daryl was sorry for his words to her, she had looked so pained from his harshness -Even scared, but in that moment he didn't know how else to approach her words when he was so angry, afraid and so broken, he didn't know how to deal with it when she saw right through him. And yet she sat there speaking calmly with that soft voice, as if she had forgiven him. He didn't deserve such kindness.
“My brother had this dealer…” Daryl begins. Telling her about the story of getting drunk with Merle and his tweaker friend.
Gazing softly as she listens. Her hands rest’s in her lap with her head relaxed against the post. It was nice hearing him talk about his brother. Julia didn't know he had one. But the way his eyes grew distant she could tell Daryl loved his brother very much. Every time he’d recalled a memory he would look up then to the left as if he was picturing it so vividly, like it was playing before him. He even gave a little smile, even though the story was a bit sad. And between the words he would look up, making sure she was listening. And she was. She felt as if she could listen for hours. She didn't know his voice could sound so gentle, softly rumbling from his chest. It felt so soothing that if she closed her eyes she would fall asleep. He looked handsome, she liked his eyes and the lines in his face. And he was quiet. Different from most men she had encountered as he was often shy and awkward about his feelings. Not able to hold their gaze for more than a couple of seconds, but she didn't mind, she was similar to him in those ways.
“I thought I was dead…Over a dumb cartoon about a talking dog.” Daryl ends his story with a deep sight as his gaze falls again.
Daryl could remember it all, how Merle always got riled up over nothing, and he would have his back, always. Because there was blood, like Merle often told him. He could recall how the three of them shouted as Merle pulled his gun defending him, how his hand throbbed, punching the guy over and over again and that deth cold feeling in his gut, believing he really would die right there in the living room.
Julia listened attentively as the story progressed from some bad choice of words of his brother to a gun pointed to his head. She imagined he must have been terrified, believing his life would end with a bullet. It was painful, imagining Daryl dying that day. Making her browser furrow. She needed to know more about what unfollowed and what happened after Merle pulled his gun?
“How’d you get out of it?” She asked with genuine curiosity.
Daryl lifts his gaz
“The tweaker punched me in the gut. I puked. They both started laughing and forgot all about it.” He said as he became quiet towards the end lowering his head.
He takes a breath liking his lips. “You want to know what I was before all this?” He asked her.
Julia gazed attentively.
“I was just drifting around with Merle, doing whatever he said we were gonna be doing that day,” Daryl leans his head back against the post. Feeling how the sudden melancholy seatels, like the sudden change in the weather. The kind of sadness that is intangible. He could feel the ache, but he couldn't pinpoint exactly where it hurt.
“I was nobody…Nothing…Some redneck asshole with an even bigger asshole for a brother.” Daryl croaked, unable to meet her eyes.
The words were so strangled by the tightness in his throat Julia could hardly hear him. It pains her hearing him talk so lowly blaming himself when he had shown her kindness. Protecting her, keeping her safe.
As Daryl became quiet again she was too for a moment, letting his words sink to her heart.
“You miss him, don’t you?” She spoke softly.
Of course he did, Merle was his big brother, it was them against the world. Even though he knew he was bad for him Daryl couldn't help but love him. No questions asked, they were always there for one another. Despite the bad stories and Merles crooked ways he was all he had. Even if he was an asshole, even if he was constantly put down he felt almost obligated, because there was blood and without Merle Daryl feared he’d end up alone. Daryl had lost his brother twice. He was the first person he had ever cried over. So yes, Daryl missed his brother terribly, even though he would never admit it, he did.
Julia knew she could see it in his eyes, how he shook his head ever so slightly, as if the words were difficult to say outlawed. She understands it must be hard dealing with pain like that, not knowing where to put it. From his story she understood their relationship wasn't one filled with brotherly love but that didn't mean Daryl never felt love towards his brother.
“I miss the kids.” A mournful smile played on her lips, Daryl lifted his gaze. “I miss making these silly little bracelets, " she chuckled sadly, remembering she could never say no, making her keep them all on her wrist. And she never took them off, as if she would hurt their feelings if she did.
“I miss Marlene.” Her eyes become glassy, gazing towards the moon. “She was so strict and overprotective. She was… my only friend after Zack and I know she didn't see me as one, but I didn't mind.” She chuckles again as her smile dissipates. “And my grandaddy,” she tilts her head, fighting back the tears.
“I thought…I hoped he’d just live the rest of his life in peace, you know?” Julia inhaled -Smiling, imagining what could have been. -she exhales. “I thought after a couple of years working on his farm, I would eventually take over. I thought would know how to drive a tractor, grow vegetables, and plant all the flowers he loved so much. And he could finally rest after all these years. He’d get to see my children, if I ever were to get any of course…Just a simple life.” She swallowed thickly, gazing down to her hands. “And he’d get really old. And it’d happen, but it’d be quiet.” She shrugged, lifting her gaze, “It be okay,” Her smile fades again. “He’d be where he belonged in his paradise, as he called it.”
Daryl could see her pain. How she flexed her jaw tilting her chin as pools of tears filled her eyes. Looking up she chuckles again. Distracting herself from breaking down. But she couldn't manipulate her heart.
“That’s how unbelievably stupid I am.” Her voice brackets making her exclaim that sad chuckle again, rolling her eyes as the pools in her eyes spill. She downs a sip from her mason jar, then places it down, resting her elbows on her knees with one hand against the cheek, looking up -Her eyes deep in thought.
“That’s how it was supposed to be,” Daryl said thoughtfully.
Julia exhales, swallowing the tightness in her throat, “ I wish I could just....Change.” She sighed.
“You did,” he said sincerely. Because Daryl had seen it. Even though she was scared, she never let it face her. And even though she was young she was strong, she didn't know it yet, but she was.
“Not enough." Not like you. It’s like, you were made for how things are now.” She insisted.
“I’m just used to it, things being ugly. Growing up in a place like this.” Daryl said, motioning to the shack.
“Well, you got away from it,” she encouraged.
Daryl shakes his head in denial, “I didn't.”
“You did.” Julia insists.
"Maybe you got to keep on reminding me sometimes.” He said softly.
“No. You can’t depend on anybody for anything, right?” She reminds him. She was silent…then. “I’ll be gone someday,” she tells him with a smile.
“Stop”, Daryl croaked.
“I will,” she insists, shaking her head as of fact. But then her mood shifts, becoming serious with that sadness back in her voice. “You're gonna be the last man standing.”
He was so afraid and it hit him now, harder than ever, making him drop his gaze. Daryl could speak, but he feared he'd just cry, and what kind of a man would weep again before a girl like her?
“You are,” she insisted again, searching his gaze.
Julia rests her head back against the post -Her tone was soft, but her face betrayed her. “You're gonna miss me so bad when I’m gone, Daryl Dixon.
Julia knew how much he would miss her, she knew. But Daryl could only stare.
“You ain’t a happy drunk at all,” he said.
“Yeah, I’m happy. I’m just not blind.”
“You got to stay who you are, not who you were. Places like this..” -She looks down, searching for the right words, “..you have to put it away.”
“What if you can’t?” Daryl stares off into the night, then back at her.
“You have to.” -Her eyebrows furrow. “Or it kills you.”
Daryl was taken back again, resting his hands on his knee chewing on his lip, digesting her words.
“Here”, she smiles, placing a hand over her heart.
Daryl didn't have the words to respond, making him change the subject.
“We should go Inside,” he reminds her only to be met with a wide, genuine smile, making Daryl's heart swell in his chest.
“We should burn it down,” Julia suggests, chuckling drunkenly.
Daryl stands to full height -slowly. Heading towards the door to leave, but he stopped in his tracks, turning to look down at her, and said. “We're gonna need more booze.”
Julia smiles in return.
…
They head to the kitchen, grabbing jars of moonshine, pouring the fluid all over. Emptying every mason jar throughout the shack. Out on the porch they throw their last jars, now empty, the glass shatters on the wooden floor.
Daryl offers Julia a match. “You wanna?" He looks at her.
“Hell, yeah”, she obliged gladly, setting the stack of cash aflame.
Daryl throws it onto the boozed-soaked porch. The fire instantly engulfs the structure. Standing further away upon the dirt road gazing upon the flames Julia flips the middle finger towards the burning building, with a smile she nudges Daryl beside her and Daryls does the same. They say goodbye to their past, their pain and sorrows. As the fire attracts incoming walkers, Daryl urges her away with a hand on her back and together they walk away, heading into the woods as a hint of a smile is now on both their faces.
And just like that Julia is now his support system, his reminder to “stay who you are, not who you were.” Before the turn, it was Merle. Afterwards, it was Rick and Carol. Now, it has to be her. And Julia in return takes up the mantle as voice of reason and the beacon of hope, their moral compass along the way.
Pt.3
#apocalypse#daryl dixion imagine#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon x reader#daryl x y/n#daryl x reader#fanfics#daryl dixon smut#daryl dixon#beth x daryl
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
So, some news: tomorrow morning I'm having surgery on my right arm - my dominant arm - my drawing arm, my writing arm, my brushing-my-teeth and typing-in-chat and unlocking-my-door arm - and will lose most use of it for years, and an unknown (but hopefully less dire) amount of use of it forever. As you might expect, this sucks so, so bad.
As you can see above, I have been trying to proactively warm up my left hand so I can still write and such once this happens. As you might also detect above, it has not felt great.
(complements on my left-handed writing are not welcome; the feel of it is so alien that even if it looked perfect, i'd be upset)
So while I go in to get that done, I was wondering if you'd be willing to reply or repost or something with a thing you like about my work that isn't about how it looks? So I can go back to this post when I get real depressed afterwards and remind myself I'm more than my line quality?
And if you are curious, slightly more explanation with anatomical specifics below the cut:
so it turns out I have a peripheral nerve tumour on my radial nerve above my elbow in my right arm - it's been slowly preventing me from lifting up my index finger (extending it) and more and more the rest of my hand's extension has been weakening. scans show muscle atrophy in my forearm, so not only is the nerve weakening, it's been weakening long enough that the muscles are getting noticeably less use.
from what we know, the tumour is benign, but it's not possible to remove it without removing a chunk of the nerve, and likely fully severing the nerve. and though benign, the tumour has been steadily growing and is likely to continue doing so, where it would eventually effectively sever the nerve all on its own.
so this is a preventative surgery where we take the tumour out before it withers all the radial offshoot nerves farther down my arm, and graft in a spare (well, less important) nerve from my ankle, and hope that the graft takes and the nerve has a chance to heal and then let me rebuild my muscles and recover some hand and wrist extension. How much is not known. Complete recovery is impossible - some nerves in there are already dead and no amount of grafts and occupational therapy can change that, and more will wither while we're waiting for the graft to heal.
Motor nerves can only heal for so long, so I'll know more about my expected lifetime function in a few years. Likeliest outcome is followup tendon reassignment surgery to try and fill any dire functional gaps, and then what will presumably be a bit of a mind-fuck of physio trying to teach my brain that one of my flexion muscles will then be responsible for extension of fingers or wrist or something.
What's confusing about this is, my other arm nerves are all fine.
Ulnar? Doing great.
Those nerves you fuck up with carpal tunnel? that I fucked up in 2008 and have spent a decade and a half taking very careful care of? really solid, healthy nerves! good job past Shel!
So I'm certainly not losing 100% of hand function; I'll still be able to curl my fingers and thumb and actively bend my wrist down - I just likely won't be able to reverse all those movements. Hell, already I can tell how much weaker my right hand is at typing - writing this after a day of spreadsheets at work is really wearing it down.
It's surreal how much all i feel is grief about this. There's no one to be mad at, not even myself - it just, sucks. Can you hold a funeral for your handwriting? your markmaking language? your line quality? your ability to touch type up to 140 words per minute? your confident, trained, controlled method of self-expression? RIP, radial nerve. I already miss you.
It's been a 13 month gauntlet of medical appointments since I first saw a neurologist about this and it's a relief to finally have the surgery, but i do really appreciate all the other scans and tests and biopsies - they gave me enough information to make this legit horrible decision to try and save what function I can for tomorrow by making today awful. And to try and become ambidextrous, I guess, because god knows I'm not stopping making art simply because my body betrayed me. It'll just be ... not what I think of as my art, for a while, at least.
40 notes
·
View notes
Text
"Homework Machine" by Shel Silverstein, from A Light in the Attic (1981).
[ID] a scanned copy of Shel Silverstein's poem "Homework Machine." it reads:
The Homework Machine, oh the Homework Machine,
Most perfect contraption that's ever been seen.
Just put in your homework, then drop in a dime,
Snap on the switch, and in ten seconds' time,
Your homework comes out, quick and clean as can be.
Here it is--"nine plus four?" and the answer is "three."
Three?
Oh me . . .
I guess it's not as perfect
As I thought it would be.
below the poem, a scribbled illustration shows a child taking a sheet of homework as it comes out of a giant contraption. hidden by the contraption's gears and wires, a little toddler writes down the answers to the questions on the homework. [end ID]
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬
𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐱: 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝, 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
₊° -𝐭𝐡�� 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞— 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐭. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐱𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬. 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧.
series masterlist
☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆
i kindly ask you to not copy, republish, translate or reproduce this imagine on wattpad or on other platforms. respect the author’s work <3
Your steps were ever so slow to try and stall the inevitable— to have to break the news that you did not have any water to drink, not even after the rain that had fallen throughout the night.
"Hey, where were you guys?" Nora stared at the three of you, wide-awake and alert, her shoes muddy signaling she had been outside after the rainstorm as well.
"Getting water." You mumbled, lifting up two cans you had been able to fill. Shelby showed her the other one with a tight-lipped smile on her face, as disappointed as you were, but also still shaken from what had just happened back on the beach.
"We should use Fatin's suitcase to collect the rest and get it up here, then we will-"
"Yeah, about that... this is all we got."
"What do you mean?"
"The thing collapsed right when we arrived. This is all we managed to salvage."
Leah stood to the sides, her arms folded across her chest while inspecting both your faces and body language.
Nora gaped at you, unsure what to say next. Was this good? Bad? Should she have spoken up about her worries the day before? Would it have mattered? Would this now jeopardize everything?
"But no worries, we can always try again another time!" Shelby tried to keep the spirits high. She shot a quick look your way and her stomach dropped when she saw the hurt and guilt in your eyes.
It was awfully quiet, and not only because the rest of the girls were still asleep.
"It's my fault. I'm so sorry."
"I mean, I'm sure you did your best? You didn't want this to happen." Nora gave you a hesitant smile.
"It's something. Better than nothing, right?" Toni yawned and stretched after having been woken up and listening in on the conversation.
"I suppose."
"Shut up, I'm trying to sleep."
"Yeah, shut it."
"You guys slept? I'm one block of ice!"
Dot sighed and sat up. Although too sleepy to realise what was going on, she knew what she was going to say next was the right decision, "Listen, I don't know about you guys, but this was definitely my last night in the cave."
"Hallelujah," Fatin grumbled out against the makeshift pillow she had made with her hoodie.
It was safe to say that the cave hadn't been the best shelter. It might have kept you from getting drenched by rain or from getting blow-dried by the wind, but it was extremely cold during the night and the bats didn't make your stay any more pleasant.
After each girl had taken her time to wake up, the trek down to the beach was made again.
The sun burned holes in the morning fog. Periodically, the girls would scan the horizon for signs of a ship or a plane, but there was nothing but endless open ocean.
"Well, it's something." Dot stared at the three soda cans on the ground which had now all been boiled and cooled off. Three cans. That was all that you had been able to provide for them. You had failed, majorly, but you didn't want to keep saying sorry.
Fatin reached to grab one and lifted it in the air, "Down the hatch-"
Shelby stopped her, "Why are you taking the first sip?"
Fatin rolled her eyes and handed the can to Shelby, "You go then."
"No, I don't want to go first. I don't mind waiting for my turn."
Fatin furrowed her brows, clearly not getting why Shelby was making a problem, "Then why-"
"-You could have asked," Shelby muttered under her breath, awkwardly digging her feet in the sand.
"Dear Shelby, would you like the honour of taking the very first sip of this holy water?"
"Okay, you don't have to make fun of me. I was only trying to point out your lack of manners. There's nine of us, not just you."
"Jesus, who pissed in your coffee this morning? Sorry that my thirst was clouding my mind." Fatin turned to the group, "In honour of Shelby's reminder that I was raised by wolves, I'd like to present a toast to-"
"Fatin-"
"Fine. Cheers." She said, and guzzled the fresh rainwater. She smiled after the sip, but suddenly her eyes grew large and she grabbed at her throat. Collectively, the girls took a step back. Only you kept standing in your place, unsure of what to do. You had your arms outstretched awkwardly, ready to catch her.
She gurgled, groaned, but then she grinned.
With a scowl on your face, you gave her a push. All the girls let out sighs of relief.
Fatin laughed, "Could use a slice of orange or lemon but it's delish if you ignore the aftertaste."
"Not funny! I thought you were done for and that it was my fault because it was my idea to drink the rainwater!" You mumbled out but secretly enjoyed when Fatin threw an arm around you and pulled you against her.
With her cheek pressed against your head, she smacked a playful smooch on your hair, "Knew I had weaselled my way into your heart."
Shelby clenched her jaw, not being able to push the jealousy away. She wanted that. With you. She wanted you to let her, to see her how you had before. She wanted you. Then her hand flew to the cross around her neck again, and she suddenly wasn't so sure anymore.
☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆
"I hate how we're out here again." You complained, "So out in the open."
Dot nodded and accepted the help of Toni while you started to make work of setting up a new campfire.
"Not my pick either. Carnivores aren't the deadliest force in the wild, you know?"
"Don't make me guess what is."
"Exposure. Slow killer."
"Where does thirst rank because I'm blowing through my stash."
"Hard not to. There's nothing to drink."
You swallowed, feeling guilty again. After motioning to Dot that the campfire was ready to set alight, you went to sit down next to Rachel, who eyed the black box beside her.
"It's so stupid."
"Hm? What is?"
"That this thing is working but we're still out here."
"Maybe we're in the Bermuda Triangle."
She shot you a look, "I'm not fucking joking. I want off."
"Don't we all?"
"You seemed happy to settle down with that water collecter of yours." She tantalised and nudged your knee.
You groaned, "Stop reminding me of my failures."
"You put in the work, the effort." She seized you up and down, "You're not so bad after all."
"That's what you say now. We still haven't had our third-time's-a-charm argument."
"And that's how it'll stay. I'm too tired of fighting."
"But not for daily workouts?"
She scrunched up her nose at the fact you didn't understand her drive or passion, "I have a championship in Tokyo in two weeks. I need to be prepared."
"Are you seriously willing to compete in that after all this?"
"Of course I am."
"Wow, I feel like I don't want to do anything for the next year after we get home."
"That's where we're different." She said in a way you couldn't quite place. It made you feel shamed, and berated.
"Careful now. Let's not start that argument."
Rachel's eyes drifted to Nora, who was collecting twigs for tinder.
"You're not close, are you?"
"We're very different, but she's my sister."
Dot went to work on the campfire, Toni started to organise whatever was around and you let out a heavy sigh when Shelby appeared next to you.
"Y/N, a word, please?" Her face was serious and it had sounded more like a demand than a question, but you had been pushed into corners too often and did not like this approach one bit. Besides, you had a hunch what she wanted to talk about, and you weren't having it.
"I'm actually going with Fatin."
Fatin looked up at the mention of her name, and rose her eyebrows in surprise before nodding as soon as she caught on, "Yeah, get over here, Bon."
With her shampoo in hand, she walked up to the water. You followed suit, wanting to get away from Shelby.
"So, are you still annoyed with her or is there something else going on that I need to know about?"
"Still annoyed."
Fatin hummed softly, her face betraying what she really thought.
"Hey..."
"Hey, get in, you!"
Nora approached. Fatin gestured for her to come over. The girl walked into the water and let out a soft sigh and the cooling effect it had.
You were about to do the same when Shelby walked up to the three of you, head held high and a smile on her face as if there was nothing wrong.
"Gonna see if Toni needs a hand." You quickly muttered an excuse under your breath before leaving.
Shelby watched you walk away, the smile turned into a sour frown.
"Here." The bottle of shampoo was pushed against Shelby's chest. She looked at it, puzzled, until Fatin continued, "You must be smelling like a fucking trashcan for her to keep avoiding you like the plague."
"She- I'm not-"
"It's a joke. Lighten up. Time for a quick whore bath."
"Excuse me, what's a whore bath?"
Nora grinned softly, "Just the pits, tits and the slits."
Shelby chuckled softly, a bit shocked at the answer and the fact those words had come from Nora's mouth.
Fatin laughed, "You're lowkey really edgy, aren't you? See, Shelby? Even Nora knew."
"Wait- why do I feel like I'm being ganged up on- Oh what the hell is touching me!" Shelby ran through the water at the tickle on her thigh.
Nora grabbed the mystery item out of the water, "Fuego."
"Takis!"
☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆
"Okay, listen up for a sec. We're all real sick of eating macadamia nuts, right? And here we have something that everybody wants with no surefire owner. So, I say that we look at these Takis as a grand prize and we play for them!" Shelby flailed excitedly. Multiple groans were heard from the circle of girls.
Leah sighed, hungrily eyeing the bag of crisps, "Can't we just eat them?"
"Yeah, seriously, she's gone full youth group counsellor on us." Fatin added.
But Rachel kept quiet, liking the idea of a challenge, and never one to back down from a game, "Play what?"
"Three words! Shelter building contest!" Shelby enunciated, waiting to see each girl's reaction. The reactions went from very excited— Dot — to not amused at all — Toni. You bit your lip, somewhat excited that you were finally going to get a proper shelter.
"We'll split into two teams, right, and whoever builds the best, most durable one wins."
"Yeah, so... we're with nine. How do we make even teams?"
"Easy. I'm out. There you have your even number." Rachel spoke, suddenly not excited at all, "How many times do I have to say it? I'm not trying to make myself at home here. I want to leave."
Nora piped up from her spot in the circle, "We won't survive without shelter, Rachel, and the universe has a wicked sense of humour. Rescue will probably show up as soon as we finish." It pained her to have to say it.
"If you built it, they will come!" Dot used her narrator's voice.
Shelby laughed, glad that at least someone seemed excited about her idea.
"Come on, Field of Dreams? It's like a brilliant film."
"Come on, Rach."
"Fuck it, I'll play." She sighed out annoyed, a completely opposite reaction to Shelby who clapped her hands and grinned widely,
"All righty, then, let's do this!"
Dot's hand immediately went up, "I volunteer as one of the team leaders."
"Any other volunteers?"
"Didn't you say you built shelters when you were a Girl Scout?" Dot put the attention on you.
"You were a Girl Scout?!" Fatin smirked, already enough playful jokes on the tip of her tongue, ready to be released.
"Yeah, I was. If no one else is willing, then count me in."
Shelby smiled, glad you were agreeing to loosen up.
"But we're still with nine, how do we make even teams?"
"We'll toss for it. The one who gets tails gets to have an additional player. And let's switch it up a bit— the last person chosen gets to pick next. It'll mix things up that way."
"Fine by me. I pick tails."
"Hey! I always pick tails. It's my lucky side."
You grinned at Dot, "Should've been faster."
A coin was tossed in the air and Shelby gave the deliberating answer, "Tails. Y/N chooses first."
"Fatin." You immediately blurted out, wanting someone you felt comfortable around on your team. Shelby had to downplay her grimace.
"You could have had five working people in your team and you choose Fatin who probably won't do shit? My team's so gonna win this." Dot teased.
"Rude? I'll have you know that I can make myself very useful if need to be."
Dot poked her tongue out, and then she looked around the group of girls. "Well, I want the W, so Rachel."
"Fatin, you're next."
"Right. I pick Shelby."
"Me?!" Shelby rose her eyebrows, "Why me?"
You paled and glared at Fatin, knowing she was up to something by the mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
"Didn't you say we had to switch things up a bit? Well, I know I normally would have never picked you so tadaa, there you got your random mix."
Shelby didn't know if she should smile or not so she just walked over and stood beside you, leaving some distance between.
Eventually, the teams were made and you stood to playfully glare at Dot before returning to Team Warriors— to Fatin, Shelby, Leah and Nora. The rules were simple— build a shelter and do it by sunset. The axe would be shared, and all other materials were finders keepers.
"So, Miss Do A Good Turn Daily- enlighten us with the plan?"
"You're going to keep teasing me with that, aren't you?"
"You got it." Fatin playfully rose her eyebrows and watched your annoyed expression.
"Hey, there's absolutely nothing wrong with having been a Girl Scout, I myself-"
"Let's just get to it." You cut Shelby off. She looked baffled and hurt. "Since the wind gets pretty rough up here, we need something incredibly stable. Either we dig the logs very deep into the sand, or we build it against the rocks over there so they take on most of the wind-" You turned around to point, "We can lean it against the rocks diagonally and make it long so that each girl has some space. Other ideas are welcome as well, since I learned my lesson when I wanted to do it by myself last time."
Nora grinned awkwardly, "Sounds good? But maybe we should first see what we can find and then pick the better option? There might not be enough material for that to work."
"What would we even need?" Leah asked.
Nora thought out loud and scanned the area, "Thick logs for the structure? Large leaves or whatever we can find to close it off, fronds and whatnot, and maybe stuff that we already have?"
"Do you want to use the emergency slide?"
You shrugged, "Maybe. Unless it's too heavy again."
"Okay, I say we go out and get these things!" Shelby smiled again, having recovered from your rude interruption, "Y/N, want to go help me look for logs?"
"No, I've done enough heavy lifting yesterday. I'm going to look for whatever dry branches we can use to make knots."
She cleared her throat, "All right, um- where's Fatin?"
"Right here." Fatin approached, having collected Marcus from the campfire, "Now we're not with five but with six. We're totally going to fucking win this thing."
"All right, the more the merrier."
She wiped two black eyeshadow strokes onto his chest with the pad of her thumb, "Now he's a total fucking warrior." She sat down next to him, one arm around Marcus and bringing her can of La Croix to her mouth with the other.
"What will you be doing?" Leah crossed her arms over her chest, "Why are you just sitting there?"
"Since I was so good at supervising last time, I think I'm gonna do just that. Keep things organised, you know?"
"It's fine, she can just chill here." You spoke up, but Leah wasn't having it.
"No, she can't do something, like, not constructive."
Shelby stepped forward, "Y'all- let's not argue over this."
"Fatin, if you want you can come with me?" Nora asked, already hating the smell of an argument, "I'm going to see if we can get the emergency slide?"
"You got it." Fatin nodded, then turned to Leah, "Is that constructive enough for you?"
☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆
There was no denying that Mother Nature had really done her best on this island, but it was the situation that made you hate its guts. The constant chirping and screeching of birds were annoying, and so were the heat and the many insects leaving you with itchy bites. You slapped another buzzing creature away from you before you dropped to the ground to start pulling at the dry vines that had wrapped their way around the root of a tree.
"If you're hoping to dig up some pirate's treasure, I think you'll end up empty-handed."
Fatin's voice startled you. Upon turning around, you saw her standing behind you, a small smile on her face.
"There's more around that tree."
"Oh, thanks."
The two of you walked together in silence, picking up whatever seemed useful.
"You know I wouldn't have thrown a fit had you decided to stay back. No one blames you for taking some rest. You didn't need to come help me to show you were putting in the work."
"Are you sure?" Fatin laughed, knowing the others wouldn't be so kind, "It's fine. I wanted to come."
"Why?"
"So you'd have a friend with you," She shrugged, matter-of-factly and walked further.
Her statement stopped your movements and you watched her walk away. You had never really had a close friend, so this kind gesture silenced you in surprise. She noticed and stopped her step to turn and look at you.
"Do you miss it?"
"Hm?"
"Do you miss the world out there? I mean, I've been really missing my phone today."
"My phone is actually the last thing I miss. It's weird, I know." You added after the look she gave you.
You worked together in silence for another minute, before you finally felt safe enough to open up. Fatin had proven she could be trusted. So far, at least. And you would be lying if you said you didn't like her company.
"I miss my little sister."
She looked up, her eyes soft when she realised you were speaking from the heart.
"I miss my grandparents. Maybe I even miss school. Just the... boring hamster-wheel of life?"
"Really? Yuck. Can't relate."
"Well, school was better than the alternative for me."
"How so?"
You shook your head, letting her know that topic was off-limits for now. Although it was tempting, she kept her mouth shut.
"You don't miss your parents?" She suddenly noted.
"Do you?" You deflected.
"I mean, I don't fucking know anymore. They sent me here unwillingly because they thought it would get me back on the right track so that gives you an indication of where we left things."
"What did you do that made them think you needed the retreat?"
"Honestly? I think they hated how they had no longer control over me. They'd rather let me suffocate in a sound-proof rehearsal room than let me be a teenager and let me go out and have fun. I play the cello, by the way." She clarified when she saw the quizzical look you sent her, "Why did your parents send you?"
"They didn't."
"Then who did?"
"It's a long story. One that should be told with a beer on a rooftop and not while sweat is streaming down my back."
"Oh, I'll hold you to that then. Not to the beer, more to a glass of pinot." She smiled, and although she tended to be noisy, she respected your boundaries this time.
You playfully rolled your eyes, of course.
"So, your little sister, huh? How old is she?"
"Five, almost six," You cleared your throat, "Within three weeks."
"Don't worry, we'll be long off this island before that," She gave you a reassuring smile, "I have two younger brothers myself. Little shits, but I love them nonetheless."
"It's hard not to love them when they're still young, huh?"
"I mean, I guess. Not always, though. Do your parents also make you take on this responsible sister role when they're around? It's bullshit, really, how they use that as an excuse to want to control my behaviour."
"It doesn't hurt to set a good example?" You shrugged.
"Oh... are you one of those goodie-two-shoes?"
"If only you knew," You muttered out, grinning at the look on Fatin's face.
"Okay, spill it! What is it you've done? Did you have two girlfriends at one point? Did you shoplift something? Did you run a red light? I know it's something, damnit!" She laughed.
"Professional confidentially."
"Thought we were partners in crime?"
"They'll kill me if I tell you."
"Fine, the mystery commences."
Your chuckles mixed together and faded away into the sounds of the jungle.
"Hey, so, why are you so set on nailing this shelter thing?"
"Um, I-" You sighed, but one look at Fatin's soft eyes and you knew you could trust her with this one as well, "I feel like a total mistake after everything. I want to help out, show you girls that I can deliver, that you can count on me."
She playfully bumped your shoulder, "Good to know I can."
"Yeah, of course." You stayed serious, and she caught on, nodding her head with a grateful grin.
"I know we barely know each other but you can count on me too, alright?"
"I thought you didn't do the whole girl friendship thing?"
"Eh, there aren't really any boys to befriend around here so I guess you're the second-best option. That, and if it comes down to the whole last woman standing scheme, I need strong allies."
You gave her a playful shove, almost sending her into a bush. She gasped playfully and threw a handful of dried leaves at you.
☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆
"You see this?" Gretchen pushed herself off the desk and pointed at the large screen, "A complete surprise, not anticipated, but notice how she has brought her out of her shell? How she has, in return, made her want to contribute and open up to the idea of letting go of the me-against-the-world attitude?" She clicked her fingers, "That is exactly what we're trying to prove here."
Tom nodded, feeling like he had to, as he watched the two girls snicker and have fun.
"We're not there yet, not at all, she hasn't linked up with subject 6 yet, but that will come. It's only been five days and it's already working!" Gretchen let out an ecstatic laugh, not able to believe herself,
"Five days!"
☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆
"So were you bummed your sister didn't pick you?"
"At first, maybe, but not so much now. It's nice to see her laugh. She stopped doing that back home."
"That is really big of you. Which is more than I can say for some people here."
Nora kept quiet, and watched how Shelby hacked away at the branches in front of her to rid them of their stems. Nora wasn't stupid, she was observant, so she knew exactly who Shelby meant. Nonetheless, Shelby had to rant,
"All I did was mean well and what did she do? Cut me off, ignore me and- sorry for thinking this, but she probably put Fatin against me as well. Who knows what she's said to her about me." Her throws became stronger.
"You, uh, you seem pretty angry."
"Me? Oh, no, no I don't do anger. Hey, the Lord expects us to be instruments of love." Shelby reminded her, "If I ever do feel the aggro coming on, well, my mom found me the perfect outlet. The theatre."
Shelby kept quiet for a dramatical pause.
"Let me ask you— are you familiar with Death of a Salesman?"
"Sure, it's kind of a classic."
"Well, I haven't exactly read the whole play, but there's this monologue in it. Um..."
Nora could only sit back and watch.
"I looked at the pen, and I said to myself— 'What the hell am I grabbing this for? Why am I trying to become who I don't want to be?'" She took a quick peek to see if Nora was listening, "'What am I doing in an office, making a contemptuous begging fool out of myself, when all I want is out there, waiting for me, the minute I say I know who I am?'" She smiled and turned back to Nora.
"That was an avant-garde take."
"So powerful, right? The way Biff gives it to his boss."
"Oh, he's not talking to his boss. He's telling his father that he doesn't want to live for him anymore, that he wants to live his own authentic life."
"Oh." Was all Shelby said, now taking the words with a different message. One that felt too close to home, "If he's disrespecting a parent then... then that makes me like Biff a whole lot less. Guess I'll... just have to find a different monologue to work on." Her voice was small, her thoughts elsewhere.
"Hey, look who are back." Nora awkwardly changed the subject and pointed.
You appeared out of the density of the forest, with Fatin beside you, laughing and having fun. Shelby bit the inside of her cheek and kept on working on the braided roof she was making.
"Hey! What did we miss?" You asked while throwing your find onto the ground.
"We claimed the emergency slide and Leah has gone to get some leaves from those large palm trees."
"I got us some logs," Shelby spoke quietly and nudged her head to the pile of wood, "And I'm braiding this for the sides."
"Great, what now, Cap?" Fatin leaned onto your shoulder.
"I don't know, I need a potty break first." You excused yourself and walked back into the forest to find a secluded stop. Right beforeyou crouched down to take your pants off, a shadow fell over you. When you looked up and saw who it was, the shock turned to frustration.
"Jesus fucking Christ, can't a girl take a piss in peace?"
"I'll ignore you spoke His name in vain this time." She mumbled quickly before folding and unfolding her hands together. A line appeared on her forehead. She was serious about what she was going to say, "Those pills- what were they for and how did you get them and why did you take them?"
You glared at her before turning around and walking away, but she hurried to push herself in front of you, her hand on your chest to keep you in place.
"Y/N, I want to know. You need to tell me."
"I want to know so many things. Like— how did life on earth evolve? Do aliens exist or where Cleopatra's Tomb-"
"I mean it!" She rose her voice. It wavered, "I mean it. I want you to tell me."
"There's nothing to say."
"Well, do you still have them?"
"Why do you care?"
She opened her mouth, and spluttered slightly, "I just do, okay! I care! Now tell me why you would steal from the medicine bag."
"I didn't fucking steal them, Shelby, okay? I found them. I told you."
"Sorry for assuming, but where else would you find them on an island like this?!"
A tired sigh left your lips, "It was in the pilot's suitcase we found right after coming ashore."
"And you didn't tell anyone because...?!"
"Because I need them."
"For what?"
"Shelby, you're really starting to work on my-"
"Just tell me, Goddamnit!" She grabbed your wrist, and squeezed it tight, as if she could force an answer out of you that way.
You glared at each other and no word was spoken for a couple of tense seconds.
"Do you seriously have to ask me that after witnessing two of my fucking rock bottom moments?"
"You can't just pop unprescribed pills, Y/N! That's dangerous!"
"They're not unprescribed, and maybe you would have known had you not ghosted me."
Shelby dropped her hold on your wrist slightly, trying to wrap her head around it all, "All right, so, you have panic attacks? Is that what they're for?"
You whiffed your nose in the air, "I suppose."
"Why? How much- How often do you get them? Did something happen?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Hey- no judgement here. I just want-"
"-and I don't want to talk about it."
"Fine, maybe not now but-"
"-not ever. You wouldn't understand."
Shelby reclined and took a step back to look at you, "Seriously? I wouldn't understand? Even if I haven't gone through something similar, you know me better than that I wouldn't do my absolute best to listen and help you."
"You wouldn't believe me anyway."
"Try me." She folded her arms over her chest.
"I take them because I'm fucking scared, all right? All day long I'm filled with anxiety and tension and I-"
"That's understandable. There's nothing to be ashamed of. We're all scared and that's why we-"
"No! See! You don't understand because I would love to just only be scared about having to survive on this island, thinking if they'll come for us or not!"
"They will. Come for us." Shelby reassured, "Y/N, please, talk to me?"
You dropped your head and stared at your feet. She was using that voice again, was looking at you with pain and worry in her eyes. Goddamn you, Shelby.
"I take them because of things that happened back home." You said through gritted teeth, having to push the words out of you that way. "I stopped taking them, but I always took them with me, just in case."
"With the added stress and trauma of the island, you feel like you need them?"
"I mean, having them by hand gives me some sense of security and safety? A reassurance that I'll be fine?"
"I don't know what happened to you and I don't want to know unless you feel like you want to share it with me, but please know that you can come to me whenever you feel terrible like that."
Your voice broke, "Shelby, I can't. Because each time we talk I have to hate you."
She stood there, at a loss for words, but at the same time understanding you.
"Um, well, but-" She stammered, "I'm sure the girls will understand if they know, if you have to take them, but wouldn't it be better to give them to Dot so they're safely kept in one place?" She softly grazed her fingertips over your underarm, "Please, be honest with me— how many times have you taken one of those pills on the island?"
"Not once."
"Were you ever close to taking one?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you?"
You clenched your jaw, suddenly realising who had stopped you both times.
"Did the reason you wanted to take one have anything to do with why you got them prescribed in the first place?"
"That's irrelevant."
Suddenly, you felt prickly and you tensed up at the feeling of being interrogated, "Maybe you should mind your own business." You snapped and snatched your hand away.
Shelby let out a dry, sarcastic chuckle, "You know what? Maybe I should."
"Fine."
"All right."
She shook her head in disbelief before leaving.
☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆
Shelby softly sang a song under her breath while stabilising the logs into the sand, with the help of Nora. Fatin was braiding leaves for the walls and roof with Leah next to her who was working on getting rid of the rocks and pebbles on the ground so the ground would be nice to sit on. Team Visor had the axe now, which left you having to knot logs and branches together for more stability.
Fatin looked up from her work, "What's that knot called, Girl Scout?"
Before you could reply, the knot made with dried vines broke and the overhead log fell down, making Leah jump away to safety.
"Knot it." You let out a dry chuckle.
"Wow, that was a horrible joke."
"You good, Leah?"
"Yeah, I'm all right."
Shelby let out a content sigh, "You know what? I like this little activity. In some weird, messed up way, it's making me relax. Don't you agree?" She watched your faces to get a reaction, but none of you mirrored the same excited expression.
Nora shrugged, "It's better than sitting around, I guess."
The others, including you, who hadn't even spared her a glance, kept quiet, making Shelby turn back to work.
"How's it going with Team Visor over there?"
"Seems like Toni is wanting to play boss but Rachel isn't having any of it-" You shielded your eyes as you gazed at the other side of the beach, "-and Dot has given up reasoning and has started without them. Martha seems torn."
"Yup. We're winning this."
"Knock on wood!" Shelby rushed to get out, "This thing ain't done yet and for all we know, it can still collapse the moment we're done."
☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆
Three hours later, the Team Warriors shelter was done. The shelter was smaller than expected, a little drafty due to one of the sides being open which served as an entrance, but it seemed strong enough to take on the wind. The six of you, including Marcus, sat shoulder to shoulder in a long line as you tried it out.
"Could've used a scenic view." Leah shrugged, poking at the leaves and branches blocking her view of the ocean.
"Maybe we should've let another side open. If one of us needs to pee, everyone needs to stand up."
"No, we're not starting again. I was happy it was finally done." Fatin groaned and let her head fall back against the rocks.
"If we keep another side open, the wind is going to blow us out."
"Actually, our shelter isn't so bad. The wind hits the rocks-" Nora knocked on the rock wall she was resting against, "It pushes our shelter against a solid base. Their shelter is in the direct line of the wind and therefore at risk of blowing away. And, if we want to, we can lie down." She shimmied down the sand to demonstrate and now rested on her back, looking at the leaf roof above her.
"What if you're suffocating a family of tiny shrimp right now?"
Leah laughed at Fatin and nudged the curly-haired girl next to her, "Never pegged you as someone to commit familicide, Nora."
Nora smiled slightly, not knowing what to say back.
Yelling sudenly echoed over the beach and all five of your heads perked out of the shelter to see what was up. Toni was angrily hacking away at the shelter with an axe.
"Ouch!"
"Wait- hello?!"
"What the fuck, Fatin-"
Fatin crawled over you all until she got to the exit.
"Where are you going?"
"Getting us those fucking Takis."
☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆
The sun had gone down and the nine of you sat together in your shelter. Being the team leader, you took it upon yourself to open the bag of Takis and start passing it around.
"But we didn't win." Martha eyed the Takis with hunger in her eyes, so you nudged her again to take one.
"That doesn't matter."
"We're all in this clusterfuck together."
Dot made a face after taking a bite, "Not as good as I thought they would be."
The bag passed Leah, "All I taste is dry."
"Hey, mind if I have some?" Rachel asked her, "And I'll be careful to not make any sudden movements, you know? You might be pretty jumpy sitting next to a psychopath."
Leah's eyes immediately bored into Fatin's, who kept her gaze down, pretending like nothing was wrong.
Shelby cleared her throat, ready to get rid of the tension, "I say we initiate our shelter with a little game. Who's in?"
Rachel and you groaned, and Toni muttered under her breath, "Here we fucking go again."
"Truth or dare? How about that?"
"If we play, will you promise that this will be the last game we'll ever play?"
"In this shelter, sure."
Dot sighed, "Well, good enough for me. Truth."
"Who was your first kiss with?" Shelby prepped herself up and leaned in.
Dot only groaned, "Oh great. Here we go. His name was Mateo Caliente."
"Oh! Sounds spicy, was he in your class?"
"No... um, actually, he um, helped nurse my dad."
The girls quieted down, saw the look on Dot's face and knew they shouldn't push further.
"Shelby, truth or dare." Toni had a wicked grin on her face, making Shelby shift in her place. It seemed like whatever she would choose would be a bad option, "Wait, I'll go, I know you're gonna pick truth anyway since you're such a-"
"-Dare. I pick dare." Shelbly glared at Toni.
She crossed her fingers that Toni wouldn't do anything that would—
"I dare you to kiss the prettiest girl."
Shelby let out a breathy but awkward chuckle, "You see- I can't do that one because looks are superficial and don't matter to me. Someone's pure beauty... is what's inside their heart." She spoke like a true pageant queen and topped it off with a wonderful smile.
"Knew you'd be too much of a pussy."
Shelby clenched her jaw, glared Toni down for another couple of seconds before her eyes shifted over the girls. She didn't have to look at you to know she found you the most enchanting of them all. But admitting that would send her to her doom.
"Martha, get over here-"
Martha's eyes widened.
"You can't pick a friend. That's cheating"
"Well, truth be told, you are all my friends so-"
"Just fucking pick one of us and goooo for it!" Fatin hollered, receiving claps and whoops from the other girls who cheered Shelby on.
She looked at her lap, opened her mouth to come up with something but closed it again, "Sorry, but I don't like this dare."
"See? Shit's too gay for her." Toni scoffed.
The smiles and laughter stopped. Everyone stared at Shelby to see her reaction. When she kept quiet, Fatin decided to move on.
"Y/N, Bon-bon, truth or dare?"
"Truth?"
"Who's Riley?"
Shelby's head shot up and you licked your lips and looked away, anticipating what to say.
"Is she that ex of yours? Forgive me for thinking but you play with that bracelet all the fucking time."
"You're noisy."
She winked at you, "Just honest, baby."
"She um, she's my little sister." You nodded your head, "Yeah, Riles made this for me for Mother's Day."
"Why would she give that to you and not to your mother?"
"I'm pretty sure that's another question and it's not my turn anymore."
Fatin playfully rolled her eyes, "Fine. I dare anyone to give me a spare sip of their drink. I just tapped out."
"That's not how the game works."
"Dude, we're all running low," Dot pointed out, "You're supposed to manage your own rations."
"How did you get so thirsty? It's not like you were exerting yourself." Leah shot back.
"She helped me in the woods." You decided to back Fatin up.
"That was, like, what? Ten minutes? Out of four hours?"
"It could be the sodium bicarbonate."
"You know what, I'm sick of hearing this shit. Let me ask you something, all of you. Whose hypoallergenic pyjamas were shredded to bind together longs? And whose sweaters are keeping you ingrates from freezing?"
There it was. The thing you had been so afraid of. You slowly slipped her jacket off your shoulders, no longer comfortable wearing it.
She continued, "Some people provide goods. Some provide services. I'm a goods provider, therefore I get a pass on the services."
"That is such bullshit!" Leah spat. "You're a goods provider because you had the stupid good fortune to find your fucking bag."
"You need to get your fucking talons out of my back, girl. For your own health."
Everyone fell silent.
"Can I please just have someone's drink? A sip!?"
"We vote." Leah shrugged, "Anyone who wants to give up a drink they carefully saved for somebody who did jack shit all day, raise your hand."
You couldn't help but play with the can in your lap, wanting to give it to Fatin, but with the additional girls sitting around, you chickened out. They liked you, what if they wouldn't anymore after that? But Fatin was the closest person you had to a friend, and she had had your back too, and she had given you her jacket. Surely, you had to repay her for that and she had... your thinking had gone on for too long.
Fatin stood up with a huff,
"Oh my God. You know what? I'm out of here." She crawled over all of you, accidentally kneeing some girls in the process but she couldn't care less, "Move."
"Should we go after her?" Martha wondered.
"No. Fuck her." Leah's statement got every silent, but you had made up your mind.
Leah stopped you, "Really, Y/N? You worked your ass off for two days straight and you're going to give her your drink?"
"I'm going for a pee."
"Sure, you are." You heard Shelby mutter and you could practically feel her eyes roll in annoyance.
"I thought your Lord taught you to share."
And with that, you climbed out of the shelter. Fatin sat on her suitcase, staring into the flames of the fire.
"Here. Take a sip. Or two or three." You gave her a small smile when she looked up, shocked and puzzled at the same time, "Or four."
"I don't want yours." She pushed it back.
"Don't get picky now." A small laugh left your mouth, "I promise I don't have some weird disease either."
"Where's your jacket?" She asked when she saw you shiver in the wind.
"It's your jacket, Fatin."
She kept quiet until her expression changed. It suddenly clicked for her. "That's why you're offering, aren't you?"
You shrugged merely, "I mean, it's only right that I repay you."
She shook her head, "No, Y/N. I'm new to this too but even I know that that's not how a friendship works."
You bit the inside of your cheeks, but couldn't help but feel wanted at the realisation she called this, your bond, a friendship.
"Sure, it's giving and taking, but not this literal! Shit!" She stood up, "I gave you my jacket because I looked out for you, not because I wanted something from you in return. And I don't want even one fucking sip of your drink if the only reason you're offering is to repay me. That's not how we're going to do this thing." She huffed. She was still annoyed from the confrontation inside the shelter and had let some of that steam go off at you. She looked at you for a couple of seconds, but when you didn't reply, she left.
You watched and hated how your lip was trembling. The only thing that felt like the right move to you now, was to go to your rock.
Once there, your thoughts immediately drifted off to Riley as you played with the bracelet around your wrist. What was she thinking? Was she worried? Mad? Scared, now that she didn't have you? How were your grandparents? Had your grandpa burned something down again, on accident? Had he been bathed? Had your grandma been able to take her medications? Who would pick a new set of them up next week? Who would pay the bills? Who would feed them? Who would bring Riley to school and pick her up? Riley. Oh, how you missed her.
Silent tears dripped down your cheeks. As you sat there, listening to the crashing of the waves and the wind blowing in your face, you let out a dry chuckle. But your peace was interrupted, once more.
"I came to say sorry."
You squeezed your eyes at the familiar voice beside you.
"God, you're like a fucking yo-yo aren't you?!"
Shelby rose her eyebrows at your immediate outburst.
"I can't follow you anymore!"
"Well, it's not like you haven't changed. Wait-" She took a measured step closer, "Why are you crying?"
"Riley." Your chin wobbled and you quickly wiped your nose, "The pills. This island. I want to go home but also really don't. Disappointing Fatin. Not knowing what to do with you."
"You make it sound like I'm some problem you can't get rid of."
"Aren't you? You keep popping up."
"Why, thanks." Shelby rolled her eyes, "Have you never stopped to think why that would be?"
You shrugged.
"Well, think about it. Then we can talk again. I don't want to be a burden or make you even madder than you already seem to be. Good night, Y/N. Sleep well. Don't stay out here too long."
You wiped your tears with your sleeve as your eyes followed her walk back to the fire.
☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆
i kindly ask you to not copy, republish, translate or reproduce this imagine on wattpad or on other platforms. respect the author’s work <3
#the wilds x reader#the wilds imagines#shelby goodkind x reader#shelby goodkind one shot#shelby goodkind imagine
90 notes
·
View notes
Text
An attempt at some Manos fanfic
This isn’t much, mostly just a little look into what daily life for him can be like and a little him thinking about stuff, if enjoyed in any way let me know to any advice at all that’s welcome too
It was early in the morning and half the city was still in bed, the heavy fog and drizzles of rain taunting them with another dreary day of downpour. A car drove along a road glistening with water and bumped over a pothole, passing a brick and concrete building tucked behind rows of shops and restaurants.
White paint that looked like it was painting on quite recently surrounded the building, and two large garage doors marked the front of it. They were primarily glass and red painted metal strips, and it looked like the building used to be a mechanic’s or some similar business before being renovated into what it was now. A small sign was nailed next to the two doors, with heavy lettering spelling out the name “BODY SHOP”.
Inside the floor was lined with black mats and workout equipment was spread out all along the space. Ropes and rings hung from the ceiling, metal bars were screwed into the walls for pull ups, and stacks and stacks of weights and barbells were lined up in the door. Up along the higher portions of the wall were small parts of old cars, like doors, wheels, and engine pieces.
The gym hadn’t opened up yet but still there were a handful of young people sitting in a small office space off to the side. It was barely big enough to call an office, but it’s where they kept all the paperwork and computers, so it was an office to them.
Three young men were inside, one blonde with gelled back hair, golden earrings lining his right ear, and a rainsoaked hoodie, a lean man with long black hair tied into a bun and a scarcely maintained beard, and a tall brunette with messy hair and a braid on the side of his head. The three were talking, with the brunette biting the end of a pencil and hunched over a desk while the others stared out a small window from the office to the main gym space.
“Yancy T, paid her fees, Daryl O, paid fee, Shelby B, paid her fee…” Manos mumbled as he trudged through paperwork early in the morning. It was around a month ago he was brought on as a temp hire, and found himself face to face with a lot more forms than he expected. He rubbed his eyes, filling in line after line of papers tracking memberships and orders for supplies and all the other important pieces that keep a gym running.
“Shels is cool, you guys met her yet?” Hair bun, who was actually just named Kenzie, sipped from a hot thermos, the steam rising out from the bottle fogging up the glass.
“That’s the… the fuck, thrift shop Shels?” The blonde was Tristan, and had his face pressed up against the glass with a glazed over expression.
“No no, Tiffany has the thrift shop. Shels was the one that did those stained glass paintings.”
Manos peered up from a stack of papers at the two. “I thought Janelle did the paintings?”
“Nah man, Janelle does mosaics. Completely different from stained glass.” Kenzie turned around and made an arch motion with his fingers, like a church window.
“Okay, right, well, I’ve met her a few times. Is she your shift?”
“Yeah man, you gotta stay later, all the cool classes happen after you clock out.”
“What makes them so cool?”
“Shels there.”
“…. Fuck, yeah she’s pretty cool. Oh, Tristan,” Manos flicked a paperclip at him to get his attention, “dude, did you replace the cooldown towels yet?”
A head suddenly perked up and looked back and forth between the two.
“Uh, yeah, did that last night.”
“And did you you do it this morning too?”
“… that’s a thing?”
“That’s a thing.”
Tristan turned to Kenzie.
“He’s right, that’s a thing.”
He paused and tapped his finger to his chin, scanning the two of them.
“…. Cool, cool cool cool. Hey I gotta use the res-“
“Just go do it man.”
—————————
An hour passed and the gym had opened. Only a few early birds were around, and Tristan was out of the office wiping equipment down.
“Soooo, what’s the verdict Mans? We havin’ a good morning or what?” Kenzie poked his head into the office and peered inside.
Manos slid the last piece of paper he had to fill out onto a pile and fell back into his chair.
“Papers are done, my hand is cramped, and I running on a cool five hours of sleep.”
“Alright, so we’ve got a shitty morning going for us. Buuuuut… mornings are like a third of the day my guy. Buck up, you got this.”
Kenzie flashed a smile at him and started to leave, but Manos quickly cleared his throat to call him back.
“Uh, Kenz, quick question. Scale of one to ten, how have I been doing so far?”
“Oooh, good question Mans.” His coworker tapped the doorway as he thought for a moment. “You’ve… been doing okay man. Little slow with the paperwork but otherwise, nah man you’re good.”
“Oh, good, that’s.. that’s good.” Manos nodded, looking out the office window at the smattering of people in the gym. “I, uh, hey I know I’m a temp here but I just… if you guys have any openings after I’m down here, you can just let me know and I’ll-“
“Relax dude, I got it.” Kenzie laughed and stepped inside. “I’m not in charge of that junk, but I’ll give you a vouch if boss man thinks about it.”
“Thanks dude, I just really… I’d really like to keep this job. And… hopefully do a little less of this,” Manos threw his hands out to gesture at all the paper around him.
“We’ll see if we can’t get you some more hours out of the floor.” Kenzie sat on the edge of the desk and yawned. It was quiet for a few seconds, and the pair could hear the patter of rain outside growing heavier and heavier.
“Alright, I got the 9 o’clock aerobics and you got the 10 o’clock after that. See ya then man.” Kenzie slapped a hand on Manos’s back and hopped off the desk.
“See ya dude.”
—————————
And the day went by like most of them do for Manos. Time flew by and soon enough he was on the walk home from the line of shops he worked behind to his apartment, winter coat on and being pelted by heavy droplets of water. The putter patter was loud, but began to fade away as he thought to himself.
His lips were pursued as he tried and filter the thoughts streaming through his mind. Thoughts of the future, if this career could work out for him, if he could stick with it long enough, if he’d always enjoy his work. Thoughts of the present, if he was where he wanted to be in life, if he was doing good work, if he was missing anything. Thou-
*HONK*
He was snapped back to attention and found himself a step away from getting slammed with the front bumper of a speeding red pick up. Before he could’ve yelled anything back, maybe about how there was a stop sign right there, the truck was already speeding off and it’s owner already flipping him the bird.
The young man sighed as his mind was cleared of everything before, and sound of crashing drops of rain settled into the background once again.
Manos shook his head, looked forward, and walked home.
3 notes
·
View notes
Photo
The Legal Landscape for Start-ups: An Uncharted Territory
You've just started your business, and the excitement is overwhelming. You're ready to take on the world, but there's a small problem. You're not quite sure about the legal aspect of things. The terminology is confusing, the documents are long-winded, and it all seems like a language you've never encountered. But did you know that there's a solution for that? The Legal Shell app is the perfect tool to help you navigate the complex world of legal jargon and documentation.
Navigating the Legal Maze with Legal Shell
The legal world can be a maze for the inexperienced, but not anymore. The Legal Shell app is a revolutionary tool designed specifically for start-ups like yours. It simplifies the complex wording of contracts and agreements, transforming them into easy-to-understand language. The app scans your document and provides a legal opinion immediately. No need for endless consultations with lawyers or fear of signing something you don't entirely comprehend. The Legal Shell app is your personal legal advisor, guiding you through every step of your start-up journey.
Legal Shell: Your One-Stop Solution for All Legal Challenges
From legal compliance and regulations to legal procedures and documentation, the Legal Shell app covers every aspect of your start-up's legal needs. The app offers a comprehensive range of services, including legal consultation, review, analysis, and assessment. It helps you understand your legal obligations, formalities, rights, and responsibilities. It provides a legal solution tailored to your unique needs, ensuring your start-up's legal affairs are in capable hands.
Legal Shell: Building a Strong Legal Foundation for Your Start-Up
With Legal Shell, you have the expertise of a team of legal professionals at your fingertips. The app draws on extensive legal knowledge and experience, providing strategic advice and guidance. It helps you foresee potential legal risks and issues and prepares you to tackle them head-on, minimizing the chances of disputes and complications. Legal Shell is not just an app; it's a cornerstone of your start-up's success, helping you build a strong legal foundation for your entrepreneurial journey.
Embark on a Secure Entrepreneurial Journey with Legal Shell Now!
Building your start-up's legal foundation has never been this simple. Navigate the complex legal landscape confidently with Legal Shell. Download now!
For iPhones For Androids
Conclusion?
No, we are just getting started. The journey of a start-up is like a thrilling ride full of unexpected twists and turns. One of the most significant hurdles faced is bridging the legal gap. When it comes to legal matters, start-ups usually find themselves lost, trying to decipher intricate legal jargon and complex contracts. But, with the Legal Shell app, the solution is just a tap away.
Legal Shell: A Trusty Anchor in the Stormy Seas of Business Law
Designed specifically for start-ups, Legal Shell simplifies the complex legal landscape. It translates the complicated wording of contracts and agreements into simpler terms that are easy to understand. With this legal aid, the process of navigating tricky legal issues becomes a breeze. With immediate legal opinions after scanning a document, the Legal Shell app ensures that you are fully aware of the legal implications, requirements, and consequences your start-up may face.
More Than Just an App: It's Your Start-Up's Legal Lifeline
The value of good legal guidance in the start-up world cannot be overstated. With Legal Shell, you get more than just legal assistance; you get a tool that provides comprehensive legal services tailored to your start-up's unique needs. The app offers legal consultation, review, analysis, and assessment services, helping you understand your legal obligations and formalities. It serves as your start-up's legal advisor, ensuring your company's legal affairs are handled with expertise and diligence.
Legal Shell: The Key to a Secure Legal Foundation for Your Start-Up
The Legal Shell app is more than just a tool; it's a companion that guides you through the intricate labyrinth of business law, corporate law, and start-up law. It helps you foresee potential legal risks and provides you with strategic legal advice to handle them. In short, Legal Shell is an invaluable resource and a constant support system, helping you establish a strong legal foundation for your start-up. So why wait? Embark on your entrepreneurial journey with the confidence of having a reliable legal partner by your side.
Key takeaways
Legal Shell simplifies the complex world of legal jargon for start-ups.
The app offers a comprehensive range of legal services, including consultation, analysis, and more.
Legal Shell serves as your personal legal advisor and partner.
The app foresees potential legal risks and provides strategic advice.
Legal Shell helps establish a secure legal foundation for your start-up.
Conclusion
For start-ups embarking on their entrepreneurial journey, navigating the legal landscape can be complex and intimidating. Here lies the importance of having a reliable partner like Legal Shell. By simplifying legal jargon, providing comprehensive services, and helping foresee potential risks, Legal Shell propels start-ups towards a more successful and secure entrepreneurial journey.
0 notes
Text
Cull to Adventure, Chapter 17, Draft 1, Part 7
“Please do be careful with it this time,” Sheldon suddenly said over the intercom. “That one’s still in testing.”
Cull glowed green, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone as he heard the Shel-Drone buzz come closer. He silently accepted the weapon case, staring at it for a second before opening it.
“…Y-you don’t mind if I take a sec to practice, do you?”
It didn’t take long for Slimeskin Garrison to be covered by rough pictures made from exploded ink. Some of them were simple stick squids with bulbous tentacles, while others were exaggerated fireworks. Cull sighed contentedly, looking at his Blaster. He felt he had a better grasp on how this gun worked, or at least enough to get through the next five to ten minutes.
“A-alright, let’s d-do this.”
Once he dove back in, he took a moment to check the hexagonal monitors that adorned the cavern walls. Green scan lines concealed an abundance of numbers and graphs, their meanings unknown from where Cull was standing.
More worryingly, he saw a wireframe model of himself on a nearby wall, wearing his Agent garb. A line not unlike a heart monitor suddenly had a spike next to it as Agent 4 gazed at this. How did he miss this the first time? How did they…?
He let the Blaster fall, frantically searching himself for any kind of device that would lend the Octarians his biometrics.
“Hey, what’s the matter, Agent 4?”
0 notes
Text
day 3! another jokey one to buffer while i write the real stuff
1 note
·
View note
Text
I really like this photo, for one, it has all five band members in it, which isn't that common for a live shot. 2nd, notice the chain link fence on the bottom? Where the heck was this taken at? Interesting.
106 notes
·
View notes
Text
0600 Saturday 5/21/22
57, raining. Storm rumbled fitfully off and on, never truly committing to a whole "thing". Tossed and turned all night, decided to give it up.
Had a dream that was remarkable by my standards in that it was multi-part but all took place within the same location that did not appear to change. it was sort of a community college classroom/library/multimedia room, with a low ceiling and very dimly lit by failing flourescent fixtures hung at face level and the occasional wall sconce. i remember the carpet was rough and very brown/gray with age, and felt almost tarry.
First I was in a class of some kind, like english. I had a teacher much like Mr. Hardy from my real AP english high school class. in lieu of a real writing assignment I just did a cartoon journal, which was highly praised by the teacher. we talked about influences awhile, and i mentioned a cartoonist who largely inspire my work. he brought me into his office so we could talk more, and I saw one of the cartoonists books on his floor. we talked about this cartoonist (who does not really exist) and i learned some trivia about this guy and his relationship to poet/cartoonist Shel Silverstein (who did exist). the last thing the teacher told me was that this cartoonists latest works were real weird, he was doing a whole series of illustrations drawn from photographs of naked women taken by private investigators that he found online. i was kinda disturbed by this and left the room.
on my way out a class started filling the room. the instructor showed up almost late, a woman in her early thirties who appeared to have just left some other event where she had been dressed in what looked liked a denim version of the princess leia slave outfit. she was flustered and trying to get the class started while changing out of this outfit.
i decided to leave but on the way out I remember recognizing the work of a cartoonist being scanned and printed by a rough and rural man with large hands who seemed very tired. i asked him if he was the artist and the guy explained that he was scanning the work on the cartoonists behalf, on account of him being very depressed and never leaving the house. i remember one of the pieces, a watercolor sad face with stretched proportions and the eyeballs stretched into tubes trying to escape the sockets
i think i actually did try to leave the room... to find the cartoonists house. i don't remember this part of the dream, I just remember a watery image of a very small grey-blue house in a suburb.
i don't remember how but i was back in multi-media/classroom area. i was sitting across from a man who was building a guitar from a kit. i remember strings, and a bridge, and the pickups, like, holding them in my hands. he left to go talk to some young woman, leaving me with the kit. i wanted to build it for him but i didn't want him to get mad at me, and I didn't know what needed to be done anyway. i remember feeling annoyed at this guy. i overheard them talking about having sex, and the girl didn't want to do it there because the carpet was rough and gross. he asked her where they should go and she invited him to her room upstairs. i called out across the room "you might wanna put this guitar away before you go so nobody messes with it". when i was turned around he put it all in the box and back by a shelf, by the time i looked again they had already gone.
that's all I can remember.
interesting dream!!! gonna bake 4 quiches today on behalf of harriets mother, and uhhhhhhhhhh i dunno, fuck around, do some dishes, do some laundry, clean a thing, etc. etc. house shit
finished da sopranos yesterday. now my brain is free to latch onto something else
1 note
·
View note
Text
pumice, sphagnum moss, clay, rope
pumice > a result of volcanic activity
sphagnum moss > nz is known for healthy and quality sphagnum
i love how organic this looks. i think i’ve finalised a design!!! i think on a bigger scale this is a cushion for exhaustion. i plan to add peppermint oil instead of actual peppermint leaves because they don’t really smell unless you go really close to it.
a rounded cushion for the back - a place to connect with the earth while being able to lean comfortably
a cushion for the nose - peppermint is believed to relieve stress & anxiety
a cushion for the soul - incorporating “the giving tree” by shel silverstein through scanning a qr code & headphones provided
it is a cushion that also acknowledges the history of albert park. entitled “think twice,” as the individual is at rest, the design allows them to think about the fact that a tree stump is a resting spot. despite the tree having considerably no life, it can support the human to its end. the history meaning it was a settlement and a military barracks, then then “lungs of the city.” albert park in itself is a cushion! i want to portray this through mine (ok does this make sense bc it does in my head)
edit: added cotton to make it a bit softer. need to find something more sustainable as I don’t want to buy more cotton balls
0 notes
Text
DAY AFTER HALLOWEEN
by Shel Silverstein
Skeletons, spirits and haunts,
Skeletons, spirits and haunts.
It's a halloween sale:
A nickel a pail
For skeletons, spirits and haunts.
Skeletons, spirits and haunts,
More than most anyone wants.
Will you pay for a shock,
'Cause we're quite overstocked
On skeletons, spirits and haunts.
(Actual scan of my skeleton)
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
I Walk The Line (Pt.2/3)
There is one more part so stay tuned! Also want to give a very special thank you to @amysteryspot and @peakywitch for guiding me through this and helping out! I hope you all enjoy and stick around for the third and final part. | tags/moodboard? | pt. 1 | pt. 3
He’d thought about his wife all day, more so when he received a call to get home at a reasonable hour. To a childless home, nonetheless, seeing as they would be taken care of by Polly. But that was early in the morning and the suggestive smirk he sported dissipated into a frown as the day went by.
Clients and money and assholes wearing him down. Then your ten or so phone calls to pester on about his tardiness. You knew you were being clingy and it frustrated you to no end. But Peggy awoke a more feral and greedy side to you. A side that you’d only seen on lonely housewives whose husbands traded nights in for a trip to the whore house. But John wasn't like that. A loyal soldier to the end.
And if so, if you'd been correct and sure in your faith in him, if he were sure of his loyalty and eagerness to see you at the end of each day, why did he find himself plastered in the Garrison at ungodly hours?
John had been on his second glass of whisky when the doors to the pub opened and in walked three women, two of which worked in his house, one who unsuccessfully seduced him just two nights ago. Peggy fluttered her lashes at him as she made her way to the bar.
“Mr. Shelby,” she greeted with a slight nod.
“Peggy,” he nodded back, “surprised the missus let you out early.”
“It is Friday, sir. Even shrews are not all bad.” She giggled. He frowned. “Oh hush, don’t take offense. ‘M only joking.”
“Well, who's this John, eh? Looks like we haven't been introduced.” Arthur intervened, slapping John’s shoulder.
“Peggy, sir.” She extended her hand for him to shake.
“She works at the house, Arthur, surely you've seen her around.” John said, taking a gulp from his glass.
“Would've remembered a pretty face like this.” Arthur replied, making her giggle.
“You think I’m pretty, eh? Must be a Shelby thing.” She said, causing Arthur to raise a brow at his brother. The latter only stared at the sweaty glass in his hand. He was tired and it was late, home was calling. But Arthur persuaded for one more drink and Peggy whined that the night was just starting. Tommy broke out a new bottle and music seemed to pipe in out of nowhere. An hour more will do me no harm, he thought. Then I’ll go home, he convinced himself.
One glass turned into four. Chuckles turned into full blown laughter. Shoe tapping turned into dancing. And soon the prospect of going home was pushed away from his mind. He didn't mean it. The job was stressful enough as it was and the deal was almost closed. Taking care of four children was rough, even with all the help they had. The house was getting crowded and so was his mind. Distractions- that is all he craved for.
Peggy pouted and whined as she tugged on his hand for one dance, just one dance and then he could leave. He complied.
“What is with your frowning Mr. Shelby?”
“Lost in me head, ’s all.” He twirled her.
“Step out of it, just for a while. Let me take care of you tonight.” She purred in his ear, still following the music’s rhythm.
“You take care of the house all-“
“Oh John, come off it! Not the house. The house has troubles, so does the business,” she whispered close to his ear and touched his temple delicately, “so does your head. You need a good distraction.”
“I’ve got plenty-“
“You've got none.” She cut him off. “I’m good. I could be good for you. Surely being with someone younger would be more pleasing. More distracting.” She carried on.
“On what grounds are you suggesting I need younger?”
“On happiness, Mr. Shelby. Or rather a lack of.”
“I’m plenty happy.” He huffed as she giggled.
“Your house is dismissed and your wife is alone, yet you're here dancing with me, holding me close.”
My wife, he thought, my wife is waiting for me. He stared into Peggy’s eyes, his own cloudy as whisky danced through his veins. Heart thundering in his chest, my wife is at home waiting for me.
Arthur and Tom had been exchanging looks all evening. One glass too many, they thought. They were unloyal to their partners many times- John wasn’t. And although the times suggested men had to have their freedom in order to be happy they knew that some, their brother, were only content with one.
Alcohol lowers inhibitions and makes one slow. In their slow-moving paces they had misjudged the speed in which real time happens. And as their brother stopped dancing, as his eyes fogged and the wires ticked in his head, the doors to the Garrison slammed open.
There you stood with flushed cheeks and droopy eyes, scanning the room for your husband. Arthur cursed quietly and made his way over to you, “Y/N, love, we werent expecting you t’night!”
“Bet you werent,” you sighed looking over his shoulder, “I’m looking for my husband.”
“John?”
“Yes, John! Are you daft?”
“Just drunk, love. Why don’t ya’- why don’t ya’ sit, yeah?” Arthur stammered in a drunken manner as he tried to lead you to the side room.
“Arthur, no. It’s late. I just need to-”
“Just wait for him here-” He kept pushing you.
“Arthur- Arthur!” You raised your voice and furrowed your brows at his persistence, “Where’s John?”
Arthur dragged his hand through his hair in frustration, “Arthur, where is my husband?” You begged once more, eyes scanning his glassy ones.
In that precise moment you heard John’s name being giggled. He had seen you come in and tried to push Peggy away discreetly so as to not drag any attention his way. She insisted, grabbing at his suit and keeping his hands firmly on her waist. To her it was just a game.
“Pe-Peggy let go, now.” He insisted.
“Johnny, please no. Lets just go through the back.” She whined.
In between the tugging, the pushing and hushed pleadings, John looked to his far right and locked eyes with you. He saw a flustered Arthur attempting to shield him from view in an attempt to help him, yet unknowingly making him look far more icnriminating.
“Y/N,” he whispered quietly, arms going slack.
You made your way over in a slow pace, making your your heels would knock sharply against the wooden floorboards. Shoulderblades pushed back, head held high, and a darkness to your eyes that made John feel as if the room grew terribly cold, a dreadful picture of a torn woman with a temper problem. Peggy noted John’s deflated stare and turned around to encounter you, the lady of the house.
“Mrs. Shel-”
“You will get on the next available train and out of Birmingham. I don’t care where you go. I see you here tomorrow and I swear on my grave that I will cut your eyes out and feed them to you like grapes.” Your stare was cold, hard and determined, but your eyes gave you away. They pooled in silent emotion and unmatched confusion that could only be described as heartbreak.
“Y/N,” John muttered louder.
“Go f-fuck yourself John,” you whispered brokenly.
tags: @theshelbyclan
#John Shelby#john x reader#John Shelby x reader#john shelby imagine#john shelby fanfic#thomas shelby#Arthur Shelby#peaky blinders imagine#Peaky Blinders#peaky blinders tommy#peaky blinders john#joe cole actor#peakascum
123 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
geocomicworld
Geo Comics
desperait
have faith in me
essindia01
Eastern Software Systems
appalachianarchy
Deleuzions
studioacne
dance moon howl