#the duality of writers

[shalomniscient]

worship (like a dog) || rahu x reader [NSFT][MDNI]

Rahu is hardly the first person you know like this, in fact a few sinners come to mind immediately, but she is perhaps the worst of them all. She does little to conceal her desire; you know the way she looks at you, can feel it against your skin, and yet Rahu herself would sooner gnaw her own leg off than ever admit to it. Tonight, however, you intend to put an end to this fruitless and frustrating back and forth—one way or another.  Or, you help Rahu take what she wants. (and she does, more than you expect.)

cw. [NSFT][MDNI] rahu has a dick in this (a big one), deepthroating, facefucking, breeding, squirting, use of puppy as a pet name, multiple orgasms, praising, switch!rahu, switch!reader

wc. 4.2k of pure filth

You don’t normally wear dresses like these, so revealing and eye catching. You’ve always been more comfortable in the shirt, slacks and coat of your typical attire, given its sheer functionality and the way it sufficiently shields you from any wandering eyes. But desperate times call for desperate measures—like trying to get your self-proclaimed bodyguard, Rahu, to finally take you like you know she’s always wanted.

So here you stand, in front of a full-length mirror in your bedroom after coming back from another FAC-sponsored gala, Rahu standing vigilantly in the doorway just outside the door you left ever so slightly ajar. You can feel Rahu’s silver gaze burn against your skin as you undo the clasp in the front of your dress. The sleeves slip from your shoulders, revealing the angular line of your collarbones, and you hear Rahu’s breath hitch sharply. You eye her carefully in the mirror, aware that the neckline of your dress has dropped dangerously low. Right now, the only thing keeping the dress on your body now was the zip in the back. 

“Rahu,” you call to her. “Will you help me with the zipper?”

Rahu’s fingers twitch, but then she nods. Stiffly, she walks towards you, until she is almost pressed against your back. The mask she wears echoes the sound of her deep, steady breathing, and the first touch of her gloved hands against your back almost makes you shiver. Slowly, carefully, Rahu pulls the zipper down, and in the reflection you can see the way her eyes follow the movement of her hands, watching as more of your skin is exposed. You sigh blissfully as your back is exposed to the cool air of the room, a balm against your heated skin. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, turning ever so slightly to look Rahu in the eyes. 

“Will that be all?” she asks, her voice noticeably rougher, deeper. It makes goosebumps break over your bare skin. 

“I don’t know,” you counter, taking the smallest step closer. The upper half of your dress is still bunched in your arms, giving her a sinfully clear view of the curve of your chest, helpfully uncovered by the fact that you chose to forgo a bra tonight. And your panties, but Rahu would only find that out later. Hopefully. “Do you want it to be?”

She blinks, and you see her throat bob as she swallows. “I— I don’t—“

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, Rahu,” you whisper, your voice taking on an almost desperate edge. You lean up, close enough that only a few more inches would have your lips brushing the snarling face of her mask. “I want you. Do you want me?”

Rahu makes a sound between a growl and a whine and your blood sings. Her eyes were blown wide, silver nearly eclipsed by the blackness of her pupils. “If— if that is what you desire—“

You shake your head, taking one of Rahu’s hands in yours in an oddly intimate gesture that seemed a little out of place in the moment’s tense atmosphere. “Tell me what you want, Rahu.”

“I…” her words are strained, and briefly, you think she might step away. That the loyalty that keeps her by your side would be the same thing that drags her away from you tonight. But then her hand in yours squeezes gently, and her silver gaze burns with resolve. “I… want this. You.” 

Your heart stutters in your chest, an aching relief flooding through your body. A smile grows on your lips as your other hand finally releases your grip on the fabric of your dress, allowing it to slip off your body and collect like a silken pool at your feet. Rahu’s eyes flick down immediately to your exposed chest, and you laugh softly. 

“Like what you see?” you tease, free hand now daintily tracing the edges of Rahu’s mask. Your finger hooks in the clasp of her mask, tugging ever so slightly. “Then why don’t you take this off and have a taste?” 

Within seconds, she’s ripped the offending accessory off, letting it clatter onto the floor carelessly. And then with a forwardness you weren’t expecting, Rahu crashes her lips against yours in a bruising, breathtaking kiss, her large hand shooting out to grab at your waist, pulling you closer and squeezing. The pressure makes you gasp into the kiss, and Rahu seizes the opportunity to force her tongue into your mouth. 

Pressed so close to her like this, you become aware of something nudging against your thigh. You shift your hips, subtly grinding against her front, and Rahu groans, breaking away from you, her lips kiss-swollen and her expression pinched in one of beautiful pleasure. A flush creeps up her skin, and you feel her twitch in her pants. 

“You’ve gotten so worked up already,” you hum, her embarrassment utterly adorable. Your hand trails lower, reaching for her belt. “Let me—“

But Rahu catches your wrist, shaking her head. “It’s fine. I want… you first.” 

“Oh.” Rahu’s thrown another curveball at you, but you don’t mind. Definitely not. You smile up at her, the thrill of seeing your tall, mysterious bodyguard now a flushed, hard mess just for you making the heat in your core feel almost unbearable. “Alright, then.” 

You lead her to the foot of your bed, then take a seat. Rahu looks a little puzzled, but then you spread your legs, and Rahu gets the message. She swallows, eyes now fixated on your pussy, the slightest glossy sheen coating the inner lips. Slowly, she sinks to her knees, until her face is level with your hips, and you card your fingers through her long, dark hair. The sight of Rahu staring up at you from between your legs, silver eyes swirling with barely restrained hunger, makes your pussy clench around nothing. 

“Can I?” she asks, her hands coming to rest on your knees. Her warm breath against your wetness makes you sigh contentedly. “I want to…”

“You can, Rahu,” you encourage gently, applying the slightest pressure to the back of her skull. With your permission, Rahu dives in, licking a long stripe from your fluttering cunt up to your clit. The action pulls a low moan from you, your fingers tightening reflexively in her hair. Rahu repeats the movements a few times, before focusing her attention on your hole, prodding her tongue inside in a way that has you throwing one leg over her shoulder to pull her in closer. As you watch her eagerly lap at your pussy, you can’t help the small giggle that escapes you, barely audible over the squelching noises of her devouring you. 

“You—mhm—look so good like this, Rahu,” you breathe out, nails lightly scratching at her scalp. “Like a—ah—cute little puppy.” 

The words make Rahu whine against you, and you see her hips buck against the floor. Rahu’s eyes are screwed shut, the grip she has on your thighs almost bruising as a full-body shudder wracks through her. You laugh properly this time, very pleasantly surprised. 

“Oh, did you like that?” you croon at her, petting her head like you would a dog. “Do you like it when I call you puppy? My puppy?” 

“Fuck,” Rahu hisses into your pussy, strained and hoarse. One hand releases your thigh to fumble with her belt, desperate to free what must be her painfully hard cock right now. 

“Focus, puppy,” you whisper, tugging her hair a little forcefully, pushing her face back where you need her to be. “You said you wanted me first, right?”

Rahu makes a strangled noise, but resumes what she was doing before, though with a touch more desperation this time around. Her tongue plunges in and out of your gushing hole, smearing the lower half of her face in slick. One particular thrust has her nose brushing your clit at the same time her tongue drives deep into you, and you moan loudly, your heel digging into her clothed back. 

“Just like that, puppy,” you praise, feeling your first orgasm of the night tightening in your belly. “Just a little bit more, being such a good puppy for me right now.”

Rahu’s hips start bucking against the floor again as she feels more wetness collect on her tongue. She continues to eat you out relentlessly despite the growing burn in her jaw, the sound of your pitched moans and whines sounding like heaven to her ears. With one final expert stroke of her tongue she tips you off the edge, and you throw your head back in a long, drawn out moan, your fingers fisting as tightly as possible in Rahu’s hair, the sting painfully pleasurable. You gush into her mouth, the sweet taste of you spilling into Rahu’s hungry, waiting mouth. She gives a few more light licks to your twitching hole before pulling back, her breath heavy, face almost shining in the low light in the room. 

You release your grip on Rahu’s hair and sigh happily, smiling indulgently down at the Sinner on her knees. “You’re so messy, puppy,” you say softly, cupping her face and swiping your thumb across her lips. “But you did so well for me, so I should reward you, right?”

“Please,” Rahu breathes out, her voice brittle. You lean down and kiss her, moaning at the taste of yourself on her lips. 

“On your feet, puppy,” you whisper into the kiss. Rahu rises shakily, standing to her full height. From where you sit on the bed, you’re now face to face with her crotch—where a very sizable tent pokes against her pants. You admire the clothed size of it for a second, then grip her toned thighs, tugging her close enough that she’s only inches away from your mouth. Rahu makes a choked noise, her hands flying to your head, a beautiful red flush settling on her cheeks. 

“Shirt off,” you order quietly. Reluctantly, Rahu releases your hair, her hands rising up to fumble with the buttons of her shirt and tie, practically ripping her clothes off in her haste until she’s completely bare. You admire her full breasts and the hard contours of her abs, your eyes tracing over each scar that criss-cross her body, some paler than others. Gently, you lean up to press a kiss against a newer one, and feel her stiffen against your touch. “Relax, puppy. I’m getting there…”

Ever so slowly you move lower, until your nose is pressed against her navel. Your hands deftly unbuckle her belt, and you let it fall to the floor along with her slacks. You laugh at the wet patch on the front of her boxers, teasingly kissing the clothed tip, just enough to get Rahu groaning. Then, you hook your fingers in the waistband and pull, finally setting Rahu’s aching, weeping cock free. 

It’s pretty, you think. Just like Rahu herself. She’s definitely not the thickest, but she certainly makes up for it in sheer length, the reddish tip curved ever so slightly. Rahu watches as you stare appreciatively at her cock, her nerves feeling frayed by desire. 

“Please…” she begs, ever so slightly rolling her hips forward, so that her cockhead bumps against your cheek. “I want— I need—“

“Shh, don’t worry, puppy,” you say soothingly, languidly wrapping your hand around her length and delighting in the way she sucks in a breath through gritted teeth. “I’ll take good care of you. Just tell me what you want, okay?” 

“Want you,” she chokes out brokenly, “y-your mouth.” 

“Good puppy,” you say with a smile, then start taking her into your mouth. Rahu swears as she feels your tongue swirl around the tip, lapping at the precum smeared on it from before. Your eyes briefly roll back into your head as the taste of her blooms on your tongue, a taste so distinctly Rahu you feel your own wetness gathering between your thighs again. You keep going, taking more and more of her into your mouth, until you feel her bump the back of your throat. You open your eyes again, and make sure to make direct eye contact with her as you draw back, all the way until you let go of her tip with a pop. Rahu whines, her hand fisting in your hair, her chest heaving at her own strained breaths. 

“Eyes on me, puppy,” you order lightheartedly before swallowing her, but this time your hand pumps whatever remaining length doesn’t fit in your mouth. Rahu grips your hair tightly, needing all her willpower to hold her back from fucking your face. You hollow your cheeks and press your tongue against her cock, your hand sometimes wandering down to toy with her balls. Rahu pants above you, eyes almost watering at how fucking good you were sucking her off. But she keeps focused on you, like the good puppy she is. 

And so you get to see fully the way her eyes disappear into her skull when you take all of her into your mouth, letting her fat cockhead bully its way down your throat. Your throat spasms, unused to the intrusion, and you breathe in harshly through your nose to quell the mildly uncomfortable sensation, because the expression on Rahu’s face right now was something absolutely worth it. Only then do you start sucking her off in earnest, bobbing up and down on her cock. The wet sounds echo throughout the room, as you devour her with as much intensity as she did you a few minutes ago. 

“I’m— I’m going to—“ Rahu croaks out, her hips jerking forward as her legs feel unsteady beneath her. You blindly reach for her other hand, and bring it to your face. You look up at her, and hope she gets the message. 

Use me. 

Rahu’s pupils blow wide, and you feel her twitch in your mouth. Hesitance peeks out through the fog of lust, and you whine pitifully at her. You’d beg, but you’re too busy keeping her cock in your mouth. Rahu swallows, and you see her lust win as her gaze takes a dangerous edge to it that has you squeezing your thighs together. Her other hand winds in your hair, and she pulls back slowly, almost slipping out completely before ramming her way back in, making you choke. 

Her pace is brutal as she chases her high, going balls deep with each sharp drive of her hips. Tears burn the corner of your eyes but you love it, the way she uses your mouth like it’s her own personal cocksleeve. Rahu hunches over as her orgasm creeps up on her, groaning each time she bottoms out in your throat. Her thrusts start to get erratic as she gets closer and closer until—

“Fuck, c-cumming!” she whines, planting herself as deep as she can go and pressing you against her crotch. You gag as her warm cum fills your throat like a torrent, your fingers clawing at her thighs as you breathe in through your nose. You don’t know how long Rahu keeps cumming for but she cums a lot, and you try to swallow all of it but some of it escapes the seal of your lips around her cock, dribbling creamy white down your chin. She pulls you off her with a pop, moaning at the sight of her cum smeared on your face. Her cock is still hard, resting on your cheek. 

Your tongue darts out to cheekily lick a stripe up the side and Rahu jerks from the oversensitivity. 

“Seems like you still want more, puppy,” you tease, letting yourself fall back onto the bed. Languidly, you spread your legs, showing off your dripping pussy that had only gotten wetter when she fucked your face. You run a finger through your soaked folds and shudder, parting them so Rahu can get a good look at your painfully empty hole as it clenches around nothing. “You want to fuck this one too?” 

Rahu growls, crawling on top of you and pinning your wrists to the bed. She shuts you up with a kiss, which turns into a moan as her cock catches on your hole. It has you sighing in pleasure too, anticipation thrumming beneath your skin at the idea of Rahu filling you up with that gorgeous cock of hers. 

“C’mon puppy, you can put it in,” you encourage, rolling your hips against hers. You lean up, your teeth grazing her earlobe as you wrap your arms around her broad, muscled back. “Fill me up, make me yours. Take what you want.”

“Mine,” she rasps out, dragging her own teeth against the column of your neck. She lines her hips up against yours once, twice, before sinking in, her fat tip breaching your tight hole. Rahu snarls against your neck in pleasure as you throw your head back and moan, eyelids fluttering at the sensation of being filled. Inch by inch more of Rahu’s cock fills your needy pussy until her balls kiss your ass, and you can feel her pressed against your cervix. 

“F-fuck, you’re so big, puppy,” you pant, your voice shaky. “Fill me up s-so good.”

“You’re so tight,” she grits out, slowly drawing back. If fucking your mouth was heaven, then fucking your drooling cunt would definitely be ascending to divinity. When she thrusts back in she goes all the way to the hilt again, forcing a cry from your lips. The neighbors would probably file a noise complaint tomorrow, but Rahu can’t bring herself to care about them when she’s balls deep in the best pussy she’s ever had. 

Her pace is hard and deep, and you almost go cross eyed with each thrust. Her length allows her to reach places no one had ever reached before, and it’s only a matter of time before she finds just that right spot that has you creaming on her cock. And when she finally does you swear, nails clawing down her back as the coil in your belly gets impossibly tight. 

“Right there, puppy, right there— just like that,” you babble, and Rahu angles her hips just right to hit it every single goddamn time. Your cunt clenches on Rahu’s dick like it’s your lifeline, and Rahu feels her own climax build up again embarrassingly quickly. She pounds into you relentlessly, your wetness from earlier splashing out onto the sheets and against her thighs. 

“Gonna cum, puppy,” you whimper between moans, locking your legs around Rahu’s lower back to draw her in deeper. “Cum with me.” 

Rahu’s pace falters, becoming less rhythmic but her aim is still mind-numbingly accurate. She whines into your neck as she feels the pressure in her loins build and build and then you deliberately tighten your core and squeeze around her and she’s gone. Rahu bites down into your shoulder as she cums, hilting as deep as she can go, pressing harshly against that spot in your pussy that has you creaming all over her cock too. 

Your walls pulse around her as she spills warm, thick cum into your cunt, as if milking her for all she’s worth. Her hips stutter from overstimulation, her brain feeling like it’s turning into mush, but she’d rather endure this forever than pull out. You feel her cum fill every inch of your cunt, some of it spilling out due to the sheer amount and dripping down your ass. You can’t even hear your own screams of pleasure, entirely consumed by the force of your orgasm. 

When you finally come to again, Rahu is hunched over you, but her hips don’t stop. Her thrusts are jerky and uneven, cock still spilling into your cunt, but she seems too far gone to even think to stop. She bullies her way deeper into you, as if wanting to get all the way past your cervix to dump her cum right into your womb. You writhe beneath her, overstimulation setting your nerve endings on fire. You can feel your mind slipping slowly, but you retain enough semblance of coherent thought to try and push Rahu off, not for her to stop completely but just to slow down.

“R-Rahu, puppy, slow down,” you whine, tears prickling at your eyes as Rahu keeps targeting that spot inside of you. “‘s too much!” 

Rahu growls at that, her silver eyes taking on a feral edge as they glare into your teary ones. She pulls out swiftly and you sigh at the reprieve, only to be manhandled onto your front in an instant. Rahu flips you like you weigh nothing—and to her, you might as well have. You barely have time to process what she’s doing before she’s tugging your hips up, lining her cock with your pussy and sinking balls deep into you again. Your back arches and your lips part in a silent scream as Rahu resumes her brutal pace, rutting into you like some sort of wild animal. 

“I’m taking what I want,” she says roughly, echoing your previous words, leaning down to snarl them against the shell of your ear. Her teeth graze your neck and you sob, cunt clenching and fluttering as your mixed cum is forced out and drips onto the sheets below. One of Rahu’s hands grips your hip tight enough to bruise, while the other slips lower to toy with your clit. The assault of her fingers on the sensitive nub is far too much for you, combined with the way her cock is consistently hitting that perfect spot. The coil in your belly is wound tight, way too tight. 

“Rahu, wait, I’m gonna—” you choke out between moans, trying to warn her, only for the hand on your hip to move to your neck and tug you upwards so that you’re on your knees as Rahu slams her cock into you. The new angle pulls another strangled sob from you as her fingers work relentlessly at your clit. Your hips twitch uncontrollably, not knowing if you want to run from the pleasure or to it. “Rahu, please, please, please—”

The hand around your neck squeezes, her teeth ghosting the previous bite on your shoulder as she briefly cuts off your oxygen and the coil snaps, furiously. With a wail, you squirt all over the sheets, turning them a shade darker. Streams of it spill from your pussy as you go utterly brainless on Rahu’s cock, still thrusting away. You don’t get a warning, or perhaps you simply couldn’t sense anything beyond the bone-deep pleasure pulsing through every fiber of your being, but Rahu cums too, hilting as deep as she can go and dumping another load into your used cunt, her teeth sinking deep into your shoulder.

Her hips stutter as she rides out her orgasm, fucking her cum deeper into your womb. You’re practically boneless in her grasp, head lolled listlessly onto her shoulder, eyes half lidded as your pussy spasms with the aftershocks. When Rahu finally goes still, she releases her hold on your neck and the arm around your waist, and you tip forward onto the ruined sheets, utterly exhausted. Rahu, still buried inside you, follows, slumping over you as she pants into your shoulder.

After a minute (or ten, you aren’t quite sure, since Rahu had seemingly fucked the concept of time out of you), you gather enough braincells to speak a proper sentence.  

“You were really pent up, weren’t you?” you tease, a little breathlessly, turning your head to look at her. Her gaze is softer somehow, and definitely more relaxed. Rahu hums instead of answering, eyes flicking down to your lips. Gently, almost affectionately, she leans in and kisses you, lazily swiping her tongue along your lip. You can taste yourself on her, and a shiver runs through you. When you pull away, you can’t help but smirk a little, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Also… puppy, huh?”

Rahu’s eyes widen and then she groans, but you don’t miss the way her cock twitches inside of you. She buries her face against the damp skin of your back and you giggle at her embarrassment. “Shut up,” she mumbles, wrapping her arms around your waist and squeezing you. You can’t see her face from this angle, but the tips of her ears are a stunning shade of red. “We should… get cleaned up.” 

As much as you’d like to continue teasing her, Rahu was right. The state of your body and your sheets was definitely less than sanitary at the moment. Slowly, Rahu started to pull out. You wince as your oversensitive walls spasm, and Rahu presses soft kisses against your back in apology. She slips out with a squelch, and you sigh, suddenly feeling too empty. Rahu helps you sit up, and you shudder at the feeling of her cum and yours starting to dribble out of your pussy. Rahu sucks in a sharp breath at the sight, but thankfully, she doesn’t get hard again. As much as you enjoyed it, you don’t think your pussy could take another pounding from her.

Well. Not yet, at least.

(You end up showering with Rahu, to ‘save on your water bill’. Suffice to say, actually getting clean turned out to be a secondary objective. But neither you nor Rahu really seemed to care, so all’s well that ends well, right?) 

[p-s-yokubo]

Request for @antivirus9287

The boys are fighting!!

Okay so long backstory time. This request reminded me of the concept of kaos and zim interacting, which reminded me of this fanfic I was thinking of writing where zim and kaos do in fact interact and they do in fact fight. And by “thinking of writing” I mean that I had a scene by scene summary of the entire fic done and I just…..didn’t write it. And idk maybe I should. Maybe I was cooking idk. Oh and Glumshanks and Gir are there too. They interact. I like them interacting I think they’re fun. They’re all fun this whole fic would be fun I just didn’t write it bc I’m scared of it being shit—

Also bonus! Sketch of Glumshanks and Gir watching the boys fight:

[kissagii]

what's really unfortunate is that my irl friends expect high level reading comprehension and coherently phrased reactions when i read their writing

whereas here i can keysmash and simp and scream and make typos in the tags on a fic and that's more or less the ideal reaction

[weaimtomaim]

Honestly? They could stand to have a little more boring in their lives. If only because the brand of "excitement" they got involved in tended towards the more unsavory end of the scale. The universe really didn't have to keep throwing shit their way at a near constant rate.

Once Meredith gives the go ahead, Swindle takes off after Brawl, catching up with the tank quickly. "No wonder you haven't had any free time, that's quite the workload." He keeps pace with Brawl as they chat and make their way to the farm. "Reminds me that we need to do some maintenance on our ship. Always somethin', huh?"

Meredith laughed, quickly climbing into Swindle and buckling her seatbelt. She...learned the hard way these guys aren't like Officer Lancer, and tend to drive rough. That lump she got on her head stuck around for days. With a soft, but distinct click, she smiled, pulling the belt on tight.

"Ready! Oh, you're going to love the work I've been doing. Cleaned up the Orchard, got rid of a bunch of old dead stuff and spent half of winter scrubbing the muck and moss off the barn. Even got a new paint job!" How very domestic of her. Without the lads around, she lived a fairly boring life.

[benoitblanc]

the x-files in 3.17: what if the antagonist of this episode was a megalomaniac who was actively killing himself in order to feel a modicum of importance by literally stealing the free will of others to the extent that they end up killing themselves on his orders. what if mulder more or less explicitly said onscreen that he believes scully's life is worth more than his own and then proceeded to put his money where his mouth was by pulling the trigger on a gun to his own head without hesitation but managing to fight off mind control to avoid doing the same thing to her. what if the most dangerous monsters of all are, at their cores, nothing more than little men trying to feel big

the x-files in literally the next episode: what if cat eat people

[astro-nomaly]

Back on my shit again

[pucksandpower]

Describe what it’s like writing fics in two photos …

[gemrose]

See the ‘self’

in all that exists

let love be your

sole spiritual practice.

~ Meeta Ahluwalia

[rebellionmoon]

me: I write for myself and know that my self worth as a writer isn't tied to praise or validation. The joy of writing will never diminish even if I write content specifically catered to myself, even for an audience of only myself.

also me: *Praying for 1 comment on my new chapter Praying for 1 comment on my new chapter Praying for 1 comment on my new chapter Praying for 1 comment on my new chapter Praying for 1 comment on my new chapter Praying for 1 comment on my new chapter Praying for 1 comment on my new chapter Praying for 1 comment on my new chapter Praying for 1 comment on my new chapter Praying for 1 comment on my new chapter Praying for 1 comment on my new chapter Praying for---*

[fullmetal-scar-simping]

Posts through no fault of the op make me go insane because YES. YES EXACTLY. YOU NAILED A MAJOR PART OF THE SHOW'S TRUTHS DOWN EARLY. No, no stop, stop. The show isn't being hypocritical or badly written, it isn't unaware! You have discerned what it is laying out! Please, stop assuming the writing is already foolish and ill-thought simply because it hasn't been spelled it out by one of the characters yet (and just because it's an anime for teens).

[garden-the-goblin]

Big fan of the reoccurring motif in fiction where god is just a little girl. Like I adore how writers came to the unanimous agreement that the most terrifying thing you could be is a little girl left to her own devices. That's good shit.

[izloveshorses]

i know i always talk about how they cut crossing a bridge, but one thing we need to complain about more often is the cut Temper Tantrum in learn to do it. 'we decided it was out of character for anya to throw a fit like that, so we removed it' ??? okay??? god FORBID a woman get tired!!!!! looks like we aren't allowed be irritable anymore, ladies pack it up!

[thegirlwholivesin-delusion]

This poem was inspired by the post about hope (which I cannot find anymore but if anyone happens to find it please tag me!)

Introducing…

“The Duality”

Date of writing :- 14th December 2023

Poet :- Cherry 🍒

Theme of the poem :- The Duality of Hope. However much we dislike hoping , we still keep going due to the little hope we have in us.

Tagging people who wanted to read my poem in a separate reblog!

Hope you guys like it :)) [pun intended]

[humanconditionpoetry]

Title: No Different

Hello y’all, here is the poetry of No different. I hope you enjoy it!

Also it would help me as writer if you could answer the poll and write a why in the comments. If you are part of the writer communities that I am in and you already answered there, you can ignore this :). Thanks in advance!

No different:

The Sun

The Moon

The people speak in shouts

The Skies

The Ground

Found in doubt

The Flowers

The Weeds

In a garden of massive amounts

The Clear

The Muddler

Built a statue that is mount.

The Beginning

The End

Armies vast in their count

The Faithful

The Sinner

Sings in a massive recount

The Knowledge

The Ignorance

Falls on history with owned amounts

The Rainbow

The Storm

Left many to grapple in Paramount

The Joy of Fruits

The Pain of the Barren

Humanity’s plight in an ever continuous  miscount!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Duality…

The answer is found in the middle of the calamity

Birth of the sanity and release of a travesty.

No different, for dichotomy is a fallacy of the galaxy.

Extremes are depravity.

Two sides of coin, is still a coin in its alacrity.

[aceredshirt13]

Bertram “Bertie” Wooster, writing stories about Jeeves: My man is a genius. The most brilliant chap I’ve ever known. I would probably die without him. We have our little spats, and he’s got a rummy sort of schadenfreude in the soul, if that is the word I want, but my life with him is so pleasant that it’s all worthwhile. I am also passionately in love with him

James “Corky” Corcoran, writing stories about Ukridge: My best friend is literally the most annoying person alive. Can’t stand his dumb ass. Every problem I have ever had in my life is his fault. There is no interaction I come out of with Ukridge in which my wallet, my belongings, and my pride are intact. It is usually all three. I am also passionately in love with him

[savage-rhi]

Duality

Chapter 12: The Other Side

Summary: Sawyer Kiddo has walked a razor's edge as a hacktivist for several years, driven by the loss of her family in the Raccoon City incident. Haunted by past choices and fueled with desire for vigilante justice, Sawyer's work takes an unexpected turn when she ventures to Spain and crosses paths with Luis Serra—a man with blood on his hands long thought to be dead. Together they unravel a web of corruption and face an impending bioterror threat, fighting not only monsters but also the darker elements of their humanity. As they delve deeper into each other's pasts and the conspiracy at large, Sawyer begins to sense something unsettling about Luis—something that might be even more dangerous than their mutual enemies.

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Blink. 

"Why can't you be more like Carmen?" 

Sawyer had heard it a dozen times growing up. Over the years, it had become her mother's catchphrase—a weapon to discipline and guilt trip easily. Every stumble, every failure was laid out for judgment, carefully measured against her cousin's successes.

It was never Carmen's fault. Sawyer had always known that. Their families had written their narratives long ago, casting each girl in roles neither had chosen, and Sawyer tried—she really tried—not to resent it. She didn't hold it against her parents, not even while they looked at her with disdain and disappointment, but tonight, it felt different. The words that once just scraped now felt like they were digging deep, rubbing salt in wounds that never had the chance to heal. She felt the weight of every time she felt short, and every time she wasn't enough.

"I'm not Carmen," Sawyer enunciated bitterly. "Unfortunately, you got stuck with me. You might as well say the quiet part out loud." 

"Sawyer, that's not—" Her dad pinched the bridge of his nose, the same look he always gave her when he didn't know what to say or was too tired to keep trying. "Soy, you need to get it together."

"I was trying to get it together!" 

"By getting arrested? You call that getting it together?!" Her mother's tone was hoarse, eyes red from earlier tears, but her gaze wouldn't soften.

"Now, hon—"

"Don't hon me!" Her eyes stared daggers straight into her husband's. "She's lucky your brother Pax knows people at the RPD because of his janitor job at Umbrella! Do you realize that? Your daughter will have this on her record for the rest of her life!"

"Community service isn't that bad," Sawyer shrugged. "It beats sitting in jail."

"Jail is where you're heading if you keep this up!" her mother countered, hands flinching as she gripped the kitchen top. "Don't act like this is nothing!"

"Hey, I'm accepting the consequences of my actions, okay? What else do you want from me?"

Her dad stepped forward. "Sawyer, you're 21 years old."

"Yes, and?" 

"Kiddo…"

Sawyer shrunk into her seat.

She swallowed her words like a five-year-old caught scribbling all over the walls of the living room. She hated how years later, as an adult, his voice could still reduce her to nothing. 

"Your mom and I don't ask for much, except you get an education and stay out of trouble. But these past couple of years? It's like you can't even manage that. You were in community college full-time, and now, barely part-time, you're always in between jobs; why aren't you taking this seriously?"

"I'm doing my—"

"Don't even start," her dad interrupted. "Carmen's been employed since you both graduated. Your uncle Pax tried to get you the same job, and you declined, and your aunt Tori? She practically handed you that receptionist position on a silver platter, and still nothing. I don't understand it, Soy. Every time you're given a handout, it's like you're too proud to take it."

Carmen again. It always came back to Carmen.

Sawyer could feel the lump rising in her throat, but she swallowed it. "My odd jobs were helping me cover—"

"You mean your smuggling jobs?" her mother interrupted. 

Sawyer scoffed. "You're not letting me finish!"

"Why should we?" her mother balked. "After everything you've done, how can we trust you?"

"We never have money!" Sawyer yelled, the words ripping out of her like they'd been trapped for too long. "We never have anything! Don't you get it? That's why I dropped to part-time. I couldn't afford the tuition anymore, and we all know you can't afford it either! That's why I did what I did. That's why I didn't want to take those jobs Pax and Tori offered; it would keep me trapped here; they don't pay jack shit! I've been scraping together every penny I can to return to full-time and get a damn career! I don't want to be stuck here like you! I'm tired of being poor!"

"Committing crimes isn't going to get you ahead, Soy." Her father's tone was gentler now, but the disappointment remained.

"I know it bit me in the ass, and I know I fucked up, but—"

"But nothing!" her mother's voice rose louder than the storm in Sawyer's chest. "Are you seriously trying to justify yourself?"

"I'm not! Please, let me explain how I can-!" 

Seconds later, Sawyer's voice was extinguished, drowned out by her parents. Accusations flew, with words twisted into daggers aimed straight at things that hurt the most. It didn't matter how far she clawed through the dirt; Sawyer knew she wouldn't get a final say.

"It's not just about the weird music, the bailouts, or any of that! She's always with strange men. It's been like this since high school! God knows what else she's doing for money!"

Sawyer clenched her jaw at the insinuation. It was always like this—they feared the worst and assumed even worse. She wasn't going to explain herself, not when they wouldn't hear her out or didn't want to know her, the real her.

"Look, we're both upset, but we can't shame her for doing what normal twenty-somethings do. They have desires just like we did once." 

"But we weren't selling ourselves for money, Daniel!" 

"Maybe you should've had Carmen for a daughter instead," Sawyer spat, shattering the tension like glass, the bitterness curling in her throat like smoke as she finished. "Or even your dead son."

Her parents turned toward her, shock on their faces like she'd hit them both in the gut. Her mother's face twisted into something ugly and wounded, a fury rising in her eyes.

"It's too late to change that."

Sawyer's breath caught in her throat.

"Hon," her father's hand jerked, but it was enough. Her mother cringed as her expression faltered, regret dimming the anger behind her eyes. 

Sawyer made a fist so tight her nails bit into her palm. Finally, they said it—the truth.

She stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor like nails on a chalkboard. She grabbed her pack of cigarettes from the table, stuffing them angrily into her pocket. With shaking hands, she zipped her jacket and headed for the door. 

"Soy, wait—"

"Never thought I'd say this, but fuck both of you." Sawyer gulped, betraying the tears already burning behind her eyes. She paused at the door, her back to them, shoulders tight with pain. "I love you, but—" 

She left before the tears could spill over, immediately power-walking to get as far away as possible.

"I need to wake up. I need to wake the fuck up."

Blink. 

"Thanks for taking the heat," Carmen murmured. She offered a weak smile as Sawyer handed her a beer, but her fingers hesitated around the bottle's neck, too heavy with guilt to open it. "I'm sorry—"

"You have nothing to apologize for," Sawyer said confidently, her eyes narrowing slightly as if daring Carmen to disagree. "Even if you got busted and I slipped away, they'd still blame me. I'm the bad influence, remember? The problem kid."

Carmen's shoulders drooped. "It's not fair. It's never been fair," she whispered, the frustration of years unraveling in the quiet of her voice. "Maybe I can go down to the police station and—"

"No." Sawyer shook her head as her eyes softened. "What happened, happened. No one expected an undercover cop. You need to let this go. We screwed up and paid the price in our own ways. You still want to be a teacher, right?"

"I do…"

"Well, no place is gonna let you near kids if you have a record. You're lucky. You still have a future."

"What about your future?" Carmen asked, glancing up with an almost pleading look.

Sawyer took a long, slow sip from her beer, her eyes distant. "Pardon?"

"College. What happens to you now?"

Sawyer laughed. "I'll do my community service. Then I'll find some nine-to-five gig and save up. I'm good with computers; maybe I'll get a decent tech job and work up the ranks. College, well...I'll go back eventually. Somebody's gotta give me a chance again."

"You're the smart one," Carmen sighed, almost to herself. "You shouldn't be stuck like this."

Sawyer smirked and nudged Carmen's shoulder. "Hey, I might've teased you about aunt Tori dropping you on your head, but you're every bit as smart as me. Come on, between the two of us, you have the charm."

Carmen shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Yeah, but you're the one with all the plans ."

Sawyer chuckled, watching Carmen absently pet Abner, her lab retriever, who lay half-asleep by her feet. "If I could sleep like that, I'd be in heaven."

"If you slept that deep, you'd be dead," Carmen muttered.

"You worry too much," Sawyer teased, but her voice carried a hint of weariness now, a slight tremor that Carmen caught as she swallowed hard.

"I'm scared, Sawyer. I don't want to be stuck because of our stupid mistakes like my mom and dad or your parents."

Sawyer's smile faded, but her tone remained steady. "I told you. I'm going to take care of us. I've got it covered." 

Carmen stared at her, the fear in her eyes still there, unspoken. "You always say that."

"And when have I ever let us down?"

"Never," Carmen whispered with a smile.

"Exactly. I'm gonna fix this. I'm gonna fix this my way. Just watch."

Carmen sighed. "Sawyer, you need to wake up."

Blink. 

Sawyer bit the inside of her lip, staring blankly at her email. The inbox flooded with messages from her family, Carmen included. Each unread subject line felt like a rock pressing down on her back. How are you? Are you okay? Why haven't you called? They all blurred together as the mouse hovered over each one and sent it to a private folder on the screen.

She paused momentarily, eyes darting to the calendar hanging beside her bookshelf. 

September 22nd, 1998. 

When had summer slipped away...? 

Sawyer glanced back at the emails, her heart too heavy to open them—yet the longer she waited, the more it hurt to do nothing.

She'd done her time in solitude, getting her shit together like her dad always told her to. For herself, for Carmen. 

She'd call them tomorrow. 

She'd pick up Carmen after.

They'd both would turn a new page.

It's time to stop running and wake up...

Blink. 

"We lost our insurance today," Sawyer sighed. "I think there's only five sessions left that I can afford out of pocket unless we get something from that suit with Umbrella."

Carmen's hollow stare had grown colder with each passing second. Her once bright eyes were vacant, barely acknowledging the world around her. It was day four of the hunger strike, and the untouched plate of rice on the kitchen table made Sawyer uneasy.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to speak through the knot in her throat.

"There's a survivors' group about half an hour from here," Sawyer said tentatively. She nudged Carmen's plate, hoping for a response. "It might help, y'know? Since therapy hasn't been working, maybe being around people who understand what happened—"

Before she could finish, Carmen's hand slammed onto the table, dishes crashing to the floor. Then came the slap. It wasn't hard, but the sting of it left Sawyer reeling as she immediately grabbed Carmen's wrists, desperately trying to calm her. She watched her cousin's eyes become crazed, full of rage and something even more wrenching—despair.

Carmen snarled and writhed, attempting to throw Sawyer off. 

"Carmen, stop! Please! It's okay! Carmen, stop! Stop! Stop it! Stop!"

Then suddenly, she went still. Tears spilled down her cheeks, a broken sob tearing from her throat as she whined.

"I know, I know, hey, hey...it's okay," Sawyer whispered, pulling back as Carmen collapsed into herself.

Sawyer wanted to reach out and embrace her, but the space between them felt too vast like a chasm neither could cross. All she could do was watch Carmen's face crumple, more tears staining her cheeks.

At the very least, she offered a hand. 

"Hey, c'mon...it's okay,"

"I'm sorry...I wish I were dead," Carmen muttered, shaking her head. Then, barely audible, she whispered, "I wish you were dead. I wish it would've been you. I miss my mom. I miss uncle Dan. I miss Abner."

Sawyer was too shocked to notice Carmen getting up, muttering something about going for a walk. She didn't even hear the door click when Carmen finally fled. 

I wish you were dead.

I wish you were

I wish you

I wish

I wish you would wake up.

Blink 

The cabinet door creaked open, and there they were—bottles lined up neatly, their promises of escape whispering to her. Sawyer reached for one without thinking, the familiar burn of alcohol beckoning her to have a taste. 

Her fingers shook as she twisted off the cap.

There was no need for a glass. The bottle of whiskey was dinner, just like it would be breakfast and lunch.

As she swallowed gulp after gulp, only one thing went through her mind:

I don't want to wake up...

Blink. 

The scent of freshly ground beans wrapped around her nose, but it did little to chase away her nerves. The warm cup in her hands was a poor substitute for something to lean on to keep her grounded.

Sawyer never thought attending those stupid meetings would lead to anything other than awkward silence and a waste of two hours on a Saturday, yet here she was. For once, she had followed the counselor's advice: "Make a friend." 

Maybe it was the alcohol still buzzing in her veins, or maybe, just maybe, she was feeling something close to ease as she sat across from Samuel, the widow. He'd found her antics amusing, especially when the local pastor paid his visits to preach about "finding god" after losing loved ones to the undead.

They'd met only a week ago, but she spilled her thoughts to him like they were old friends. He was so easy to talk to, and it scared her how genuine he was. 

Samuel pulled Sawyer from her wandering thoughts. The familiar crease between his eyes told her something more was on his mind.

"I'm sorry about what you've lost, Kiddo," his voice heavy as his slumping shoulders. 

Sawyer blinked a few times, swallowing the lump in her throat. She exhaled sharply, feigning nonchalance. "It's whatever, you know? We've all lost something. Maybe the preach had a point...we're gonna carry this crap for the rest of our lives, aren't we?"

Samuel leaned back, his mouth twitching as he tried to suppress a smirk. "That bloke was full of 'horseshit,' as you so eloquently pointed out. Mid-coughing fit , no less."

"I was such a jackass that day, wasn't I?" Sawyer snorted, not able to help it. A grin tugged at her lips.

"I'd go with 'asshole,' but you got Sonny and Joyce to laugh. They haven't smiled in weeks. That's a win in my book."

They both chuckled, but Samuel's face grew serious as their laughter subsided, his eyes searching hers while humming thoughtfully. 

"Penny for your thoughts, professor ?" she teased.

"Oh please, I'm not that handsome," Samuel smirked, but his gaze softened. "I was thinking…maybe we should do this more often. Y'know, make it a weekend ritual. After the meetings, we come here and shoot the shit. Be friends, at least."

"Friends, huh?" Sawyer tilted her head and smiled amusingly. The counselor never said anything about scaring the friend off. "We could be more than just friends if you keep buying coffee for me."

The silence that followed hung heavy, and then Samuel's hearty laugh broke through the tension, catching Sawyer off guard. 

"Yeah, I'll stick with caffeine as my main squeeze."

Sawyer rolled her eyes playfully and giggled. 

"C'mon, what does she have that I don't?" she asked, gesturing toward the cup in his hand. 

Samuel grinned, his crow's feet capturing his mischief. "For one, she makes my heart race, and I know where she's been—unlike some people."

"Asshole!" Sawyer tossed a napkin at him, but she couldn't help the laughter rippling up from her chest. "I'm flirty, but I'm not a harlot!"

"Sure, act like one." Samuel snorted.

"You would've gotten along great with my parents," Sawyer muttered with a snort, leaning back into the booth and shrugged. "I'm all bark and no bite in that department, but my offer still stands for you."

Samuel's smile softened, but his gaze didn't waver. "Maybe when you're not dying."

This wasn't right. He never said that to her, no. She could've sworn he said, "Maybe when you're not a functioning alcoholic anymore." That's how it was supposed to go. 

"Ouch," Sawyer grimaced, blinking as she tried to play out the scene. "You're never gonna get a girlfriend with that attitude." 

"Well, I landed a wife once, and you're never gonna get a boyfriend with your personality either."

She forced another laugh, but her chest felt heavier now. She couldn't smell the coffee anymore. The cafe and all the people inside felt like they were somewhere else, in a fog she couldn't conceptualize.  

"All the more reason why we should be friends, right?"

Samuel leaned forward, his voice low and serious. "You need to wake up, Kiddo."

"What?"

Blink. 

She sat in a courtroom. The warmth of that moment with Sam—felt like it belonged to another life. The lights above hummed faintly, and all Sawyer could hear was the pounding of her pulse against her chest like a drum in a warzone.

Her gaze fixed on the man on the witness stand, her late uncle Pax's boss at Umbrella. His voice was mechanical as he recited the same excuses: "corporate responsibility," "miscalculations." Each empty word shredded what little remained of her patience. 

They had stolen everything from her, from Carmen. 

Sawyer's shaking hands clenched tightly at her coat pockets, fingers wrapped around the cold metal of the gun hidden within.

She could feel it anchoring her rage as the courtroom withered.

She wanted to scream and tear down the facade of a mourning niece and daughter, to make him and everyone who was under the thumb of that godforsaken company pay. 

"Wake up!"

Sawyer's head snapped up. The voices were everywhere now, loud and insistent, drowning out everything but a sharp ringing in her ears that doused the judges' screams. 

"Wake up!" 

Blink. 

Through the haze, she could make out Luis. Blood smeared his mouth, and his eyes—wild and glowing, something more than human—met hers. Fear clawed its way up to her throat as she gagged on bile. Her body refused to move away, too weak to respond. She reached out with shaky fingers, brushing his hand before darkness pulled over her eyes. 

A warmth bloomed inside her. It was foreign but strangely soothing like something deep within her clung to a final spark. When she came to, the world was coming apart around her. Luis was cradling her body in his arms, the terror in his eyes contrasting with how gentle he was being.

"I know...I know it hurts," Two Legs whispered. He lowered her onto something hard, something cold. His hands reached for her head, supporting it as he peered over her face. 

Stay awake…

"Hey...!" A broken smile stretched across his lips when her eyes fluttered open. "Hey, you..."

She had never seen anyone look so happy and relieved to see her alive. 

"Carmen…" Her cousin's name slipped out before she could stop it, no louder than a breath. It was all she had left.

Two Legs leaned closer, brow furrowed in confusion. "What?" 

He called out to her somewhere far away, a distant echo bouncing off invisible walls she couldn't see. 

"No…no, no, no!" 

Sawyer felt Luis's hands shaking in his weak grip on her. He muttered something she couldn't make out. His breaths were uneven and quick as if he was running out of time, trying to avoid death's scythe from reaping its next victim.

A hand found hers, warm and sticky with blood. 

Suddenly, pain—sharp, searing pain in her right arm. Something pierced her skin, jolting Sawyer back into awareness for a moment. She gasped. A red string went from Luis's arm to hers.

Everything went dark again. 

Realities' coldness faded, and a heat she hadn't known in years washed over her. Voices came with it, distant and muddled as if they were speaking underwater—familiar but lost.

Sawyer didn't understand any of it, but the noise calmed her. It was like hearing a lullaby one had forgotten, the memory just out of reach, but there if one had the strength to peel the layers away.  She wanted to touch those endless voices, but it wasn't needed in this place—not when she could feel every vibration like a thousand hands reaching out to greet her.

She was floating. 

A new sound appeared—faint at first. 

"The truth may be stretched thin, but it never breaks, and it always surfaces above lies, as oil floats on water."

"...For I've heard that what they call fortune is a flighty woman who drinks too much, and, what's more, she's blind, so she can't see what she's doing, and she doesn't know who she's knocking over or who she's raising up."

"I have never died all my life."

She knew that voice, knew it in her bones. 

Samuel…?

Between the lines of the text, another voice—a more profound, softer one—spoke in the spaces between. Sawyer couldn't understand words, but the tone held her, soothed her. It felt like a pull, gentle but unstoppable, tugging her away. She fought for a moment to stay—to hear the rest and hold on.

And then, just a vibration—faint, wordless, like sound without shape.

Blink. 

Blink.

Blink. 

"It's time to wake up, Kiddo." 

Sawyer's senses returned as if rising from a bottomless abyss. A blanket pressed gently against her skin, and she curled her fingers into the softness beneath her, grounding herself. Her eyes, unfocused at first, settled on her hand resting across the mattress.

Her skin looked paler than she remembered, and the glint of an IV needle buried in her vein caught Sawyer's attention. She traced the red tube upward, following it to the unmarked blood bag beside a saline solution hanging from an IV pole. She swallowed reflexively, blinking to clear her vision further.

The attic she lay in felt impossibly distant from where she'd last been. It wasn't the cramped, dusty kind—this space was open and refurbished, with sunlight pouring in from a window so bright it hurt to look. Only the tops of distant trees were visible beyond the glare.

She shifted, wincing as the needle tugged against her hand, and glanced at the ceiling. A large net hung just above the bed, hooked from one side of the room to the other and overflowing with blankets and pillows. The material nudged to one side like a forgotten cocoon—like someone had been sleeping in it.

Wooden beams crisscrossed above her, worn smooth by time but looking recently polished, string lights draped across them. Shelves lined the far wall, cluttered with mismatched knickknacks—framed photos and old books. The air had a faint, comforting scent of citrus and lavender, like someone had tried to make the space inviting despite its makeshift feel.

Her lips twitched into a weak smile. 

Heaven…? The thought slipped into her mind, playful but fleeting. 

If heaven had IV bags and hammocks, maybe…

Her gaze drifted to a book beside the nightstand. She reached for it, then paused, feeling a strange disconnection between herself and the body she was only beginning to reclaim.

"Oye, bella durmiente!" a familiar voice called out, playful and full of mischief. "You look like crap!" (1)

"I feel like it," Sawyer groaned softly, turning her head toward Two Legs as he finished climbing a flight of stairs. "Why do you have to speak in tongues?"

Two Legs grinned, leaning against the doorframe, his eyes relieved.

"My apologies for being excited to see you..." He paused, squinting while looking her over more closely. "Ehh, mostly dead?"

"I see your tact hasn't changed," she quipped, trying to sit up further. 

"Five days isn't long enough to form a new habit, I'm afraid."

"That's how long it's been?" Sawyer blinked while a dull ache sank in her chest.

"Yeah..." Two Legs trailed off, his grin faltering as his gaze drifted to the floor. "I didn't think that you'd..." He quickly cleared his throat, hiding behind humor again as he raised a coffee cup between them. "I uh—bought you a little pick-me-up."

"Liar," Sawyer teased, though her voice staggered. "You got that for yourself. I can see it on your face—you weren't expecting me to wake up. Probably came to check if I had a pulse."

Two Legs chuckled, shrugging as though he could brush off the truth. "Caught me red-handed!" 

He walked over to the bed, the teasing glint returning to his eyes. "Although between the two of us, you need it more than I do."

Sawyer smiled. "You cut your hair down and shaved the beard off."

"How nice of you to notice." Two Legs grinned. His expression was gentle, as if her noticing something so small reminded him that things were okay again.

"How come?" 

Two Legs shrugged, his smile dimming slightly. "Eh, I got tired of rolling out of bed looking like Jesus and felt nostalgic for 2004."

Sawyer snorted, wincing at the ache it caused, but the laugh still escaped. "Relevant year?"

"You have no idea," he sighed, shaking his head before handing her the cup. His fingers lingered on the edge of it for just a second longer than necessary. "Go on."

Sawyer accepted it reluctantly, taking a small gulp. She winced, the taste strange in her mouth, lips tightening into a thin line.

"Too sweet?"

"No." Her voice was quiet, almost strained. "I can taste my blood in between my teeth. Not the best combo with coffee." 

She grimaced, shutting her eyes as a wave of nausea passed through, a slow exhale escaping her. Her gaze fell to the top of the cup while a faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"All it's missing is bubbles."

Two Legs raised a brow, his grin widening. "Bubbles?"

"Yeah," Sawyer said softly as if she were seeing something far away. "When I was younger, I wouldn't drink anything unless it had bubbles in it ."

Two Legs let out a small chuckle, his gaze lingering on her face. "Why?"

"I was a weird kid?" Sawyer tried to laugh with him, but the sound came out rough and uneven, her throat scratchy. The glow in her eyes faded just as quickly as it came. "Maybe it was a sensory thing. I thought they were neat to look at."

Two Legs hesitated, unsure what to say, then made a small gesture.

"Lemme see that."

Sawyer blinked, confused, but handed over the cup. She watched as he fished a straw out of his pocket and stuck it into the coffee. Her eyes narrowed, ready to protest, but then he met her gaze, something playful and tender rising there, and he blew bubbles into the drink.

Sawyer burst out in giggles despite herself. The sound filled the room. Two Legs, grinning, exaggeratedly puffed his cheeks and did it again.

The heaviness in her heart lifted for a moment, feeling as though she could breathe again.

He handed the cup back with a dramatic flourish. "Your bubbles, madam."

Sawyer's grin widened, her cheeks flushed from the laughter. It was well worth the pain that came after the fact. "You're so cliché, you know that?"

Two Legs winked, the mischievous spark in his eyes still there. "I aim to please—and you're welcome."

Sawyer winced as she tried to sit up further. Her eyes, still heavy from exhaustion, swept around the room again. "Where are we?"

"My humble abode," Two Legs smirked. He glanced between Sawyer and a worn rocking chair nearby, finally pulling it up beside the bed so he could sit. "We're in the Costa Brava region. About eight hours from Madrid, give or take."

"All this time, I thought you lived in a van," Sawyer scoffed, though it came out weaker than intended.

"Haha, good one!" he replied, trying to keep things light.

She sighed, rubbing her temples, then finished the coffee and set the empty cup aside.

"Anyway," she muttered, swinging her legs off the bed's edge and pushing herself to her feet, wincing as her legs wobbled beneath her. "Give me an hour, and I'll be gone."

"Wait, what?" Two Legs shot up from the chair, his eyes widening with concern as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, trying to coax her back to bed. "The last thing you should be doing is running around. You're in no shape to leave. You need to take it easy."

"I can't," Sawyer whispered, almost pleading. Every part of her body screamed at her to lie back down, but she refused to listen. "I have 24 hours left to get on a plane or…you said I was out for five days, right?"

"That's right," Two Legs nodded, his brow furrowing as he hovered beside her, unsure what to do. His hands twitched as if ready to catch her if she fell. 

Sawyer's face paled. "Oh, shit..."

Two Legs swallowed hard, noticing the fear creeping into her expression, and stepped closer to try to calm her down. "I'm sure you can find another arrangement to get out of Spain."

Sawyer's shoulders slumped, and her eyes were distant as she murmured. "It's not that simple."

Two Legs frowned. "How so?"

"It's like I told you back at the hotel," Sawyer sighed. She couldn't help but recall that last night before everything went wrong—the night before she was shot. "Everything's fake. All my travel papers, documentation…and Kari, that fucking—" 

Sawyer paused, her vision swimming as she fought back a sudden wave of dizziness.

"Easy. Take another breath," Two Legs murmured, his concern hidden behind a gentle command. "VITA can still help you out, right? Even without all the paperwork they did for you?"

Sawyer's lips pressed together, frustration bouncing as she tried to focus.

"I don't know," she admitted quietly, her mind drifting back to that failed attempt to access the archives, a gnawing suspicion that Kari had sabotaged her. She swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how close Luis was, his breath warm, his face just inches from hers. She looked away, her pulse quickening for reasons she didn't want to investigate, before she winced and sank back onto the bed, her legs finally giving in.

"I've never been in a situation like this."

"I guess this means you're stranded," Two Legs replied, his relief tangible when she sat down, though his eyes were clouded.

"Yeah," Sawyer let out a weak laugh, but there was no humor in it. She caught onto the tension in his features, the worry that mirrored her own. "You seem upset?

Two Legs rubbed the back of his neck, furrowing his brow before leaning back in the creaky rocking chair. "Not at you. Just the situation, what happened back there, in Toledo."

Sawyer's face softened as she studied him. His shoulders held tension even though he attempted to appear relaxed, and his eyes wandered like he hadn't rested well in days. She wanted to ask about Kari and the complicated mess between him and her but now wasn't the time.

He looked like he was barely holding it together.

"How did you get away?" she asked instead, her voice a bit quieter, as if acknowledging the gravity of what he'd been through.

"I ran like hell," Two Legs chuckled, the kind of laugh that only came from someone trying to chase away something that still scared him. 

"Obviously, or we wouldn't be here," Sawyer grunted, trying to lighten the mood, but the reality crashed down on her as she glanced at her bandaged shoulder, packed with gauze. "Did you take me to a hospital?"

"Nope," Two Legs admitted, almost proudly, though his voice was softer now. "I, uh, pulled a MacGyver, as one might say. I broke into a medical supply facility and patched you up. The bullet skimmed an artery—it didn't go all the way through, but you lost a lot of blood. Guess my minor in anatomy came in handy, huh?"

"And then some," Sawyer gingerly touched her shoulder, wincing as she felt the stitches beneath the wrappings. Her brow furrowed, confusion clouding her thoughts. "Wait, how the hell did you get me here in one piece? I was eight hours away when I got shot…"

"Here comes the crazy part." Two Legs hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck, his playful tone faltering. "After I stitched you up, I…well, I hooked an IV from me to you. Then I found a motorcycle and had you sit up front and lean against me to keep the blood flowing. Rode the whole way like that."

Sawyer's eyes widened in disbelief. "How the fuck did I not drain you dry?"

"Adrenaline?" Two Legs laughed sheepishly like he was trying to hide how close he'd come to collapsing. "I made some stops along the way, gave myself a break…then kept going."

Sawyer stared at him for a long moment. Her eyes flicked up to the IV pole and the blood bag. "And that up there…that's yours too?"

Two Legs nodded, his lips quirking into a faint smile. "Made it myself."

"Oh, you're crazy…" Sawyer murmured, shaking her head as she let out a shaky breath. "How did you even know our blood was compatible?"

There was a slight pause before he answered, his eyes darting away.

"There were some tests in the facility. I took three, just to be sure."

Sawyer had a sinking feeling he was lying. A brief flash of memory surfaced—Luis's face, pale and tautened, his eyes dark and feral. Blood smeared across his lips. She shuddered, forcing herself to dismiss it as a hallucination from her blood loss, but the unease lingered.

She frowned and glanced at the empty cup before her, biting her lip. 

I almost died…

"Well," she said with a forced casualness, "give me a day to recoup, and I'll be out of your hair."

"Wait, you said you can't get home."

"I'll find a way; I always do." Sawyer insisted, her tone a little too firm. She gave a sharp nod, more to herself than to him. "We've helped each other enough."

"That may be true," Two Legs began, pausing as if carefully choosing his next words, "but we're both still in the hot seat, and I don't feel comfortable letting you go out there while you're still injured. You'll have no protection here."

"You don't think I can—" Sawyer started, her irritation rising.

"Hear me out," he cut her off, his voice softening. "I know you're strong. Hell, you took a bullet helping a man you hardly know. I'm not underestimating you. But you don't know your way around Spain like I do, and there's a good chance Alvarez is looking for us. We're better off together than separated."

Sawyer hesitated. He was right, and she knew it, but admitting that felt like admitting weakness, and that scared her more than the pain in her arm. 

"But I…"

"I want you to stay," Two Legs plead. The sincerity in his eyes made Sawyer's heart skip. "It's the least I can do for…for getting you caught up in my mess. At least until you're back on your feet, how about that?"

Sawyer's gaze dropped to the floor. The truth was, she didn't have the strength to argue anymore. The consistent pain radiating down her arm reminded her she wasn't at one hundred percent. Still, she hated feeling vulnerable and needing help. 

"Alright…" she muttered. "I'll stick around, I guess."

"Great then!" Two Legs' smile was big and warm, too warm for the grey still swirling in her head. "We'll figure this out. Trust me!"

Sawyer was silent for a long moment, staring at her hands. She felt a knot in her stomach. "Should we talk about how we will deal with Kari and what happened between you two back there?"

Two Legs' face fell slightly. 

"Let's table that for now," he said calmly. "I may look like I have it together, but these past few days have been hard for me too. I know you have a hundred questions, and I'll answer them, but…If it's all the same to you, I need time to get my head straight."

Sawyer furrowed her brows, feeling sympathy despite the questions clawing at the back of her mind. She nodded slowly.

"First things first!" Two Legs exclaimed, his voice bright with an almost contagious excitement. He disappeared downstairs momentarily, returning with a crinkling grocery bag filled to the brim, which he promptly set on the bed beside Sawyer.

"I bought you some snacks. I wasn't sure what you liked, so I got a little of everything. The pantry's stocked, fridge too—and oh! Clothes, I got you some clothes!"

Sawyer blinked, her groggy mind struggling to catch up. "Clothes?"

"Yeah!" His grin widened, a proud glint in his eyes. "Shirts, pants, underwear, socks...based on what you had on."

It took a second for her to register what he meant, and when she did, a flood of realization hit her. She wasn't wearing her original clothes—hell, she wasn't even wearing a bra.

Her heart gave a startled lurch as she glanced down, then quickly back up at him. 

"You looked at my body?"

Two Legs' face flushed deep red, his hands shooting up defensively.

"I—I had to clean you up! You were unconscious. I wasn't going to leave you lying there in...well, you know." He shifted on his feet, clearly flustered, dropping his hands. "But I swear, I didn't peek at anything. I...I respect ladies."

She stared at him, her mouth slightly open, torn between shock and something resembling gratitude. He was an awkward mess, but the sincerity in his words disarmed her.

"Oddly comforting..." she muttered.

Two Legs slapped his forehead suddenly, struck by another thought.

"Oh man, I forgot body wash, conditioner, all that…If you don't mind smelling like me, you can use my stuff for now. There are more blankets downstairs, a deck, umm...kitchen area's a bit of a mess 'cause I haven't had time to—"

"Luis," Sawyer interrupted gently. Her throat narrowed as she looked at him, at this man who had taken care of her when she was most vulnerable. "Thank you."

Two Legs expression eased, nervousness melting into something more caring—something that whispered he was just glad she was awake. He smiled faintly, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks as his mind raced ahead of him. 

"Can I ask you something?"

Sawyer shrugged. "Sure, it's not like I'm going anywhere."

"Who's Carmen?"

"What?"

"You said her name a lot when you were bleeding." His gaze searched hers. "Is she another one of your friends, like Sam?"

Sawyer's face darkened as a flood of emotions surged forward. She took a shaky breath, ignoring his eyes, pretending she hadn't heard him right.

"I need some time alone...if that's alright," she whispered.

Two Legs' eyes widened for a fraction of a second, realizing he had crossed an unspoken line.

"Yeah, yeah, sure...um," He nodded, stepping back, his usual confidence faltering. "I'll be downstairs. Just holler if you need anything. I'll check on you later, yeah?"

"Okay..."

Sawyer's mind was already shutting him out as she turned away and lay back down. 

Two Legs stood in the doorway, watching her frame disappear into the sheets. For the first time since meeting her, she looked small and lost. He didn't know what to say, so he slipped out of the room, the door closing with a soft click.

Once downstairs, he pressed his back against the wall, releasing a deep breath he didn't even realize he was holding. His arms shuddered, pulsing almost violently, his fingernails shifting from blunt to sickle and back again, between human and parasite.

"Mierda joder," he muttered under his breath. (2)

Two Legs stared at his hands for a long moment with resignation as he focused on his breaths, controlling himself.

"You can do this," he whispered to himself, jaw tightening. "You've got a plan. It'll work." 

He had already made arrangements and figured out his "meals" for the next week to keep himself from spiraling, especially now that she was awake. Then he let out a dark, humorless chuckle, rubbing his temple.

"If you were human...if you were Luis, you'd be thrilled right now. Over the damn moon. There's a woman in my bed, hell yes!"

His cheeky grin faded into a frown. "But no...there's a woman in my bed, and I can only think about how not to kill and eat her."

His conflict churned, making it even more complicated when he thought about what had happened earlier. When Sawyer stood up from the bed, her body so close to his, it sent a jolt through him, standing the hairs on his neck. How the faint scent of her lingered in the air, her skin warm...he was painfully aware of the distance between them, or lack thereof, and how easy it would have been to pull her closer.

Two Legs sighed. His body reacted before his mind could catch up, and the hunger bit at him, primal and instinctive.

"I can do this..."

He curled his hands into fists to steady himself and keep from doing something he couldn't take back.

Notes:

1. Oye, bella durmiente! = Hey, sleeping beauty! 2. Mierda joder = Shit, fuck