#I suck at writing dialogue

[vntildavvn]

The Quarry | Interview Ending

Abigail

"It was so dark and I couldn't see anything." Abi began, "It wasn't a normal animal but it wasn't human and I couldn't do anything, I tried so hard to help him but it wasn't good enough, I wasn't fast enough." The officer frowns at her in utter confusion, "Abigail..." They trail off and the girl looks up, red clinging to her like a second skin. "You said that it was your friend, Nicholas -" She shakes her head, "Nick, it wasn't him, he wasn't himself, it wasn't his fault." With an unsure sigh, the officer stares, "What wasn't his fault?" It's silent for a moment and Abi finally speaks, "When he was turning into one of those things, he didn't mean it..." She utters out quietly, "He didn't mean it." This time the words sounded more unsure, taunted by her actual thoughts.

Dylan

"What happened to your hand, Dylan?" The question held a hint of concern, unsure if the young man should instead be in the hospital rather than in a dirty interview room for disease to hurt him even more, but Dylan only shrugs and smiles, more of a grimace as he replies. "It's nothing, it's a precaution or was..." He trails off, dazed but alert all at the same time and the officer clears his throat, "What do you mean by a precaution?" The Lenivy boy looks up as if the man had asked something stupid but he replies to him in a calm voice, the most calm he had been all night. "It was the only option, okay? So I wouldn't turn into a werewolf." The officer raises a brow at the words, "Werewolf?" Now he was sure the boy needed to get that wound seen to, it was as if the unsure tone was dismissed by Dylan as he's quick to look around sharply, "What about Ryan? Was he okay after everything? And the others, did everyone else make it?"

Emma

Emma Mountebank was practically rocking in her seat, a look of disbelief as she eyes the officers with judgement. "I am telling you, it was on the island!" Her voice raises in a sharp annoyance, "It chased me and attacked me and I almost didn't get away!" She confirms, "I told you about the photo, the one on my phone, the proof is right there on my camera!" The officer stares with a look that Emma knew meant he didn't believe her, "Miss -" She cuts into his words quickly, "You're not listening to me." Before the officer could say another word, Emma scoffs and leans back into the metal of the chair, "If you aren't gonna even listen to a word I've said then let me go, I wanna see my friends, I wanna see Abi." At least her friends knew what happened was true, at least they believed her when they lived through the exact same threat.

Jacob

"So you sabotaged the van on purpose?" Jacob's eyes are watery, tears wobbling and threatening to slip, he didn't want to be a weak link to them. "I didn't know what would happen, I just wanted another night with her." The officer writes something down sharply, "Who was it?" Jacob did not understand why he asked but he answered "Emma, I wanted to spend more time with her. We had a moment at the lake but it all went to shit..." It fell quiet before the officer spoke, "What do you mean by that?" Jacob sighs at the officer with an irritated glare, "Oh, I don't know, maybe finding a fucking dead body or being caged next to a monster who used to be my friend, you decide!" The officer stares with some curiosity, "Was the body male or female?" Jacob is quick to look up, "I don't fucking know, I was too busy in trying to get the rotor arm, all I know is that it was gross as shit!" The officer speaks into one of the recorders placed on the table, "Please make a note to investigate further..." Jacob lets out an unsettled sigh as the room falls quiet once more.

Kaitlyn

Kaitlyn Ka was nervous but she didn't show it. Her face is blank as she stares ahead, keeping her breathing steadily calm but it doesn't stop the thundering heart that makes her throat close up with anxious waves engulfing her and making her ears ring that she barely hears the officer who asks another question. "The gun used on Caleb Hackett, it has your fingerprints on it. Would you mind explaining why that is?" The brunette looks up with furrowed brows, a sense of outrage that barely manages to be held down against her words, "He was a fucking werewolf! He tried to kill me and Dylan and if Abi hadn't given me the silver shells then I wouldn't be here in this room right now!" It's the officers uninterested stare that makes Kaitlyn shake her head and scoff, "So you intended to shoot him?" The officer twists at her words, trying to tell a story that was anything but true. "No, that is not what I said, you aren't listening to me!" Shuffling in her seat, she sits forward in anger, "I am trying to tell you that I didn't have a choice, I shot him in self defense not knowing it was him and even if I did, I would do it again because he was trying to kill us and he would have if I didn't do what I did!" She stares at the officer with no doubts, remaining silent.

Laura

"What happened Laura?" The blonde was silent for a few moments, lips in a thin line and face blank as she tried to tell a story that needed to be heard. She felt familiar with the questions, the interrogation tactics, observing Travis Hackett over the months and learning a thing or two and knowing what the officer in front of her wanted to know. "I did this to end the curse, I did this to cure Max and for this whole nightmare to end." She says calmly, "A family was found dead, Miss Kearney." The officer replied, "The Hackett family, Constance Hackett was found shot dead, Jedidiah Hackett was strangled until his neck broke, and Kaylee Hackett was found dead in a pool and a few camp counselors have said you were the one who killed her!" It was clear the officer was unhappy with her response but Laura didn't care anymore, "Everything I did was to stop more death from happening, every single thing that has happened tonight was to stop them from causing more bloodshed and tragedy." The officer glared ahead, "And so you stopped it by causing more bloodshed yourself?" Laura glared back, not letting his comments get to her, she didn't care anymore.

Max

"Is Laura okay?" Was his first question unanswered by the officer in front of him and Max couldn't stop his thoughts taking over, about Laura and all that blood, the screams that blurred between fear, waiting hours on that island, isolated and alone. He was no longer alone, stuck in a police station as an officer spoke quietly to him. "What were you doing on the island?" He frowned but answered honestly, "It was to stop me hurting anyone else, to stop me from killing anybody." The officer let her confusion be known, "What do you mean, Max?" He lets a sigh leave him, "When I turned into that thing, into a giant monster, I wasn't in control and so Laura left me there so she could end the curse once and for all." He admits with a weak smile, "I guess it worked..." He trailed off, a look of relief crossing his features that he wouldn't have to ever live in fear of losing control, losing himself to a monster.

Nick

"It was some kind of animal." Nick said quietly, voice low and tired. Covered in red like Carrie White on prom night. "I remember Abi... She tried to - she tried to help me. She never stopped looking out for me even after those things I did and said to her." He admits, guilt all over his face, it's what makes the officer intrigued as she speaks up, "What did you do, Nick?" The Furcillo boy fell silent, he felt sick to his stomach, disgusted by the words he said that were simply not true, words he tried to fight against while this monster clawed its way out and turned him into an evil, a thing that he feared of becoming. "I remember her face, I remember how scared she looked, how upset, how much terror was in her eyes when I -" He stops, "I didn't want to do that, I'd never do that to her, I didn't mean to hurt her." He admits, "But I did, I hurt her. I know I did."

Ryan

Ryan was quiet and still in his seat apart from his left leg bouncing up and down with fear and his eyes wandering the room with paranoia. "We've identified the body of your camp leader, Chris Hackett." The woman's voice was steady as she spoke, "Is there something you'd like to tell us, Ryan?" His frown deepened, "Chris was - he was a good man, he always looked out for me." He let his words go quiet, "He told us to stay inside, I should've listened, I should've convinced the others to stay inside, I should've done more and maybe this wouldn't have happened..." The officer wants to know more and so she pushes at him, "What wouldn't have happened, Ryan?" It fell quiet for a moment before he spoke once more, "The werewolf attacking Nick and Abi, Dylan's hand being cut off, Kaylee..." He trails off before continuing, "Chris never let me down before, he was always looking out for me, it isn't fair, he didn't deserve this. If I just knew the truth, if I'd believed in something I thought was just a story then maybe I could have changed things." The officer in front of him clicks her pen and asks one final question, "What story would that be, Ryan?" He meets her gaze and lets a quiet answer follow, "The Hag of Hackett's Quarry..."

#the quarry #kaitlyn ka #dylan lenivy #emma mountebank #abigail blyg #jacob custos #nick furcillo #laura kearney #max brinly #ryan ezrahler #supermassive games #video games #alternative ending #interview endings instead of that shitty ass podcast #I suck at writing dialogue #but i was bored #and this came to me #definitely until dawn inspired #interviews

[coirionin]

dread having to write anakin interact with other characters beside a baby and artoo.

can u imagine? conversation???? shudder

#ughhhhhh #im gonna fucking lose my mind #i SUCK at writing dialogue #eden grace

[nikholascrow]

“shake what your mama gave ya!”

“i’ve been trying to shake the crippling anxiety for years i just cant seem to lose it”

#i think i am so much funnier than i am #shit post #i suck at writing dialogue #mommy issues #nikos random thoughts

[mermaidfanficlibrary]

If you notice a lot of my headcannons and smaller oneshots/drabbles dont have dialogue its because I suck at writing them. I find it so bland when I write it and I just dont know what a character would really say unless im in a huge writing flow. Its easier when it comes to bigger fanfics because I have a baseline with the main story and can branch off of it.

Sorry if this makes no sence its just a thought rn

#🪸.mermaid time #🪸.mermaid shitpost #i suck at writing dialogue #dialogue is hardd #explaining things with colorful words is so much better

[celestialwrites]

saying ‘i love you’ without saying ‘i love you’ dialogue prompts

@celestialwrites for more!

♡ “to me, you are perfect.”

♡ "don't you realise? you are my world."

♡ "you brought me back to life."

♡ "the only way i know how to describe what i feel around you is home. i feel at home."

♡ "it's as if my entire life i have been sinking in a storm and you came and pulled me out."

♡ "you know i stayed for you, and frankly, i don't regret it one bit."

♡ "with the whole of my heart, i believe that together we are infinite."

♡ "i never intend on leaving you. you hear me? never."

♡ "thank you for being the shoulder i always needed, even when you hated me."

♡ "i can't live without you!"

♡ "never leave me, my heart couldn't bear it."

♡ "i've spent my whole life waiting for you."

♡ "consumed in darkness, you darling, were my light."

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL WRITERS!!<3

#when i tell you guys im so sorry i haven’t posted much recently - i really am so sorry!! #writing and reading slumps suck and i’ve been so busy #thank you all for your patience ! #writing prompts #writing prompt #creative writing #angst prompt #angst writing #writing fluff #fluff prompts #domestic fluff #writing inspiration #story prompt #dialogue prompts #dialogue prompt

[fitpacbo]

hiiiiiiii (manipulative) /j

Tubbo refused to look Pac in the eye. “Yeah dude, cause you’re a dilf.” 

He had never heard that term before. “What is a dilf?” 

With wide eyes, Tubbo finally looked over at him before letting out a nervous laugh. “You don’t know?” 

“No?” Pac said feeling more confused than ever. Why was Tubbo so nervous? Was his face going red? 

Tubbo laughed again. “Don’t worry about it dude. Don’t even worry about it.” 

You whisper to Fit: fit what is a dilf

Fit whispered to you: EXCUSE ME?!?!?

You whisper to Fit: :( is that a bad thing?

Fit whispered to you: WHO CALLED YOU THAT

You whisper to Fit: Tubbo :( 

Fit whispered to you: Holy SHIT

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

You whisper to Fit: ?

Fit whispered to you: dilf= dad id like to fuck

You whisper to Fit: QUE???

Tubbo jumped when Pac ran in and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Que??” 

“What?” Tubbo said with a nervous laugh looking up at Pac. 

“Fit told me what DILF means.” 

Tubbo stared at him while his face started to flush a deep red. “Ah fuck he exposed me.” He tried to squirm his way out of Pac’s grip but was unable. 

“Do you mean that?” 

Tubbo froze. “Do you want me to mean it?” 

Pac considered this before nodding enthusiastically. “Very much so.” 

Tubbo let out another nervous laugh before Pac kissed him hard. Why hadn’t they been doing this sooner? Holy crap. 

Ugh Tumblr user Kierawantstocry, you make me want to cry because you’re manipulating me into thinking /j

The kiss made Tubbo feel numb. Not in a bad way, of course. The way Pac’s lips crashed with his was addictive. He could have died in that very moment and he wouldn’t have cared if it meant he got to experience that in his last second. However, he wasn’t expecting it to happen like this. Tubbo didn’t not enjoy the kiss, that’s for sure. There was just a nagging anxiety in the back of his mind. What if Fit hated Tubbo for kissing his boyfriend? What if this small major action (mistake?) destroyed their delicate balancing act? Tubbo already thought that the dynamics of the morning crew were fragile enough with Fit and Pac’s blossoming relationship. What if all of that comes crashing down?

There’s the sound of the warpstone activating and the heavy sound of Fit’s footsteps. Pac’s face lights up and he rushes to greet his boyfriend, leaving Tubbo alone with his anxieties. The pair of lovebirds return and Fit has an unreadable expression on his face. Tubbo prepares for the worst with a nervous grin. “Hey, Fit. How are you?” His anxiety is clear in his voice.

“I have a bone to pick with you,” Fit growls, stepping forwards to stand face to face with Tubbo. The younger man visibly pales and swallows uncomfortably.

“Look, if this is about what happened with Pac, we can-“ Tubbo is cut off as Fit grabs his hair and pulls him into a passionate kiss. Tubbo’s eyes widen and Pac cheers in the background. The bald man eventually pulls away.

“How dare you call my boyfriend a dilf and not even acknowledge me?” Fit’s voice is light and playful. Tubbo sighs with relief as he realizes that he’s not going to get murdered today. However, the brunette is incredibly confused.

“Are you not… mad at me?” Fit laughs and kisses the other on the cheek. He grabs both Tubbo and Pac’s hands and pulls them close.

“You know what they say, a triangle is the strongest shape.”

#can you tell I hate writing dialogue? #ahahahahagagah #did anyone get that glaringly obvious iron widow reference? #lowkey kinda hate this but I have everything I write so suck it #qsmp #qsmp shipping #fitpacbo #poly morning crew

[puppyeared]

Thinking about my old pkmn ask blog

#I’m not really active in the community anymore but more because I grew away from it #I think about coming back a lot but Im not really sure what id do lol. I mean I think my storytelling and writing #skills have somewhat improved. but i still really really suck at making endings #although maybe I could make it like something that resolves the main problem and then just open for any interactions.. #….fuck. I’m actually considering it now. I love impulsiveness 🧍 #ugh but the other problem was that I would slowly stop updating as the dopamine slowed down and then just abandoned it altogether #multiple times in fact. since I’m the one making the content and not consuming it eeeuuhhgggghuhuhhhhhhh #this lil guy was supposed to have a story around his estranged family and his own problem with identity. I think I could still pick it up #i suck at writing edgy aloof dialogue so it always felt a little stilted or off when I wrote his dialogue. but I love him #myart #my art #oc #pokemon ask blog #pokeask #moss eevee #pokemon

[sracha]

they went on a date 🤕

#rosebird #big brown eyes summer again. sorry i cannot work with those high beams looking at meeee #strqrock au #sorry i have neglected to mention a third of this au is their strange and beautiful situationship #while they work at Maria’s music store. its great they only break up three different times🫶 #they went to that deftones sandwich shop. someone is still hungry i guess 🫣 #summer like I’m sending you subliminal messages to come in so i can suck you in an interesting and peculiar way. is it working. #i hate writing dialogue. psychic blasts my keyboard. goodbye.

[helpimstuckposting]

Part one | part two | part three

Artwork

—

Robin and Steve went up to sing a few more times, though Steve was still emotionally rattled a bit. Give me your phone, Eddie had said, come to the show any day this weekend, he said, just text me and I’ll come out to give you a pass. What the fuck was Steve’s life right now? Once he told Dustin about this, Steve was going to have bragging rights for the rest of their lives, the kid would never have the high ground again. No matter what his ego said.

Eddie was back at the table with his band mates. Jeff and Gareth, Eddie had introduced them. Steve was just a little bit tempted to do a Corroded Coffin song to fuck with Eddie, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to pull off the vocals anyway. The band had refused to go up at all, said they had to rest before their show tomorrow, that causing a commotion wouldn’t be a good idea either. Steve was a little bit sad he wouldn’t get a personal show in such close quarters, that would have really made Dustin jealous. As it was, Steve could probably claim this as the kid’s birthday gift for life. Not that he would.

He was almost more excited just to tell Dustin than he was to go to the show at all. Though, he was very excited, this all still felt like a hallucination. Robin had pinched him multiple times, just to check he wasn’t dreaming. Not that he asked her to, she just did.

He couldn’t tell what Eddie was saying to his band mates, but Steve could still see the wide smile on his face, and for once Steve didn’t choke on his words or skip a breath.

Across the bar, stage lights in his eyes, he could see Eddie throw his head back and laugh - the pull of his skin making Steves mouth water. He was so drawn to Eddie, to the soft edges and eyes that held fireflies, and sure he was nervous around him, who wouldn’t be? But at this point, Steve could either not do anything and he’d never see Eddie again, or he’d shoot his shot and if Eddie rejected him the outcome would be exactly the same; Steve had nothing to lose. If he had to wrap himself just a bit in King Steve in order to finish the song calmly and walk over to Eddie, that was his business. Everyone needed armor now and again, and growing up the center of attention taught Steve exactly how to pull that armor out and engulf him.

After their song, probably the last of the night, Steve marched right up to Eddie’s table with a new-found determination. He had nothing to lose.

“Hey Eddie, can I talk to you?” He asked, lightly brushing his fingers against Eddie’s forearm. He didn’t want to grab and seem too forward or pushy, didn’t want to seem crazed or too much.

“Sure!” Eddie replied, glancing once over to his friends (who shot him mocking looks and little smirks) and leaned heavier into Steve’s touch. He followed Steve over to the dark hallway past the stage, the one leading to the bathrooms. It was a bit dingy, but perfectly quiet and out of the way for what Steve wanted to say.

Steve turned around to face the rockstar, felt closed in with him in this little space. The worst Eddie could do was take back his offer to go to the concert this weekend, that’s it. Steve kept repeating it over and over again in his mind, trying to convince himself he could really do this. Before, in school, Steve had been so cocky and so confident. It didn’t matter that Robin always told him to cool it, to humble himself, he was a Harrington, he was King Steve, all the girls wanted him and all the guys wanted to be him, it was easy.

But then a high school girlfriend, one he was genuinely serious about, had called his love bullshit. She said he wasn’t worth it, that it was all an act and their relationship was another bullshit dance their parents had pushed onto them. He never felt like King Steve after that, not really. He felt the mask and the act and the character he played but he never felt like that person again.

Here, in the back of the bar with the lights dimmed and the music from the stage dampened between the close walls, with Eddie looking at him with so much patience for someone he only met yesterday, he felt like it didn’t matter if he had the kings mask on or not. He could be Steve and that would be okay.

“Steve?” Eddie asked when Steve hadn’t said anything. His fingers trailed lightly against Steve’s forearm, gently gliding into the palm of his hand. Steve clasped onto the soft touch, turning his palm into Eddie’s.

“I was wondering how long you were going to be in town?” Steve said, his inflection pitching up into a question.

“Tuesday we’ve got another show about two hours from here. Going back to our roots, so to speak, and after that we’re back on the road,” he replied. So, four days. They had performances Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, and Steve worked the weekends anyway. He could take Dustin to the show on Friday and then maybe… if Eddie was free, maybe Monday…

“Would you go to dinner with me?” Steve asked, tugging on the hand still held in his own. He pulled Eddie toward him just a step, letting the musician get closer if he wanted to. If he chose to.

Edit took a step closer, then another, the tips of their shoes stopping against one another.

“I’d love to,” he whispered between their shared space. “Does Monday night work for you?”

Steve huffed out a laugh, “Monday is perfect,” he said. “I’ll probably stop by your show tomorrow, if that’s okay?” Steve still wasn’t quite sure he was awake and not hallucinating, that he wasn’t drugged and unconscious in a hospital bed somewhere. He just wanted to double, triple and quadruple check that he was fully awake and welcome to just show up at this concert without a ticket.

“I said any day this weekend, of course you’re allowed to come tomorrow.”

“Well, sorry for kind of not believing this is actually happening after a rockstar I met yesterday said I could just show up to his concert completely unannounced without a ticket and waltz right in like some kind of famous lunatic or something!” Steve shouted a bit more than he intended to, quieting quickly and glancing around to make sure he wasn’t causing a scene.

Coast clear, his eyes darted back to Eddie who was pulling a strand of hair over his lips, and very clearly trying to hold back his laughter. Steve rolled his eyes. He couldn’t believe how quickly he was thinking fondly of this rockstar, like he knew him, like was comfortable being around him.

“Sorry, sorry,” Eddie laughed, “I promise it’s allowed. Just text me when you’re outside and you’ll be lead into the venue, okay?”

Steve nodded, tugging on Eddie’s hand just to remember the feeling.

The two groups dispersed shortly after their conversation, Steve and Robin heading back to their apartment while Eddie and his band mates went back to their hotel or bus or wherever musicians on tour stayed while in town. It was late, around 1am, but Steve couldn’t wait to tell Dustin the news. The little twerp would be awake anyway, Steve was certain.

He called the second they got back to the apartment, Dustin picking up on the second ring.

“What’s up, what’s wrong, what happened, are you okay? Is Robin okay?” He answered in a panic.

“What, I can’t call my favorite duckling just to talk?” Steve replied, trying to lighten the mood so Dustin wasn’t worried.

“Duckling? Steve what the fuck, it’s one in the morning!”

He rolled his eyes, though Dustin couldn’t see, “oh what, like you were asleep? Tell Suzie I say hi.”

“Hi, Steve!” a soft voice crackled through the line. Dustin and Suzie always FaceTimed until one of them passed out, talking about nerd things until some ungodly hour. He smirked down the line.

“Yeah, okay, whatever. Why are you calling?”

“You’re gonna want to sit down for this, Buddy, are you sitting? Are you planted firmly on your ass?”

“My ass is firm,” Dustin joked back, a small ‘very firm’ chirped in the background.

“I… did not need to know that, never ever say that to me ever again. I hate you so much.”

Steve could practically hear Dustin rolling his eyes over the speaker. The kid was predictable, Steve could probably guess his every move on the other side of the phone.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m the love of your life, what do you want? Why do I have to be sitting?”

“Robin is the love of my life and you know it,” Steve said. He took a deep breath, preparing to give the best news of Dustin’s life. “So you know that band you’re obsessed with?”

“Do I know the band I’m obsessed with? Yes, Steve, I know Corroded Coffin.”

“Okay, you keep up this little attitude of yours and I won’t tell you I just got tickets for their show tomorrow,” Steve blurted out. He was half expecting Dustin to continue through more arguments about his attitude, completely bypassing what Steve just said. Of course, Dustin was never one to miss the important information.

It was silent on the other end.

Steve pulled the phone away from his ear, waiting a few seconds before the inevitable scream from the other end. He could hear Dustin yelling back and forth between asking Steve questions and relaying the information to Suzie. He wasn’t loud enough to hear any actual words or questions, but there was no way in hell Steve was going to put the phone back to his ear with Dustin going berserk on the line. He didn’t want to ruin his hearing before even stepping foot inside the concert venue, how ironic would that be?

“Dustin!” Steve shouted into the receiver to no avail, “Dustin… Dustin! I swear to god I will answer your questions but you have to ask them one at a time, bud.”

There was a deep breath, a few muffled reassurances from Suzie, and then it was quiet again. Steve hesitantly placed the phone to his ear, waiting for the first question.

“Steve… how the hell did you get tickets? The show was sold out! All the days are. I know, I checked!”

“Okay, so I… didn’t technically get tickets,” Steve cringed.

“… WHAT? YOU-,”

“Dustin! I swear to god, I’m getting us into the concert tomorrow.”

“How, Steven?? HOW are you getting us into a sold out concert tomorrow for the biggest band to perform in Indy in years, the day before opening night?”

“Okay first of all, never call me Steven again. Ever. You got that? Never ever. And second…,” he paused, mulling over his choice of words, “I uh… I know a guy who’s working the venue.”

Steve could only hear Dustin’s breathing over the speaker. He didn’t know if he broke the kid or if he was trying to decide if Steve could be trusted after nine years of friendship. Maybe Dustin thought he was delusional, he wouldn’t be the first person to think that tonight.

“Is this a rich person thing?” Dustin finally asked.

“A rich- Dude, I make $20 an hour, no this isn’t a rich person thing, Jesus Christ,” Steve muttered. A snort like a lawn mower revved from behind Robin’s bedroom door, and Steve contemplated the pros and cons of shaving her head in her sleep for the third time that night.

“Well sorry! Forgive me for not believing you!” Dustin shouted sarcastically, the earlier hysteria bleeding into his words again (though thankfully not as much as before). Steve told Dustin to take another deep breath before continuing.

“He told me to text him when we got there, they’ll let us through. I already told him we’re going tomorrow, he’s prepared and reassured me like three times that he’ll personally make sure we’re let in. Do you want to go or not? I swear to god, kid, I could still rescind the offer.”

“Steve if you take this back I will shove my hand so far up your ass-”

“Oh like you could take me, Henderson, I don’t think-”

“You lost to Jonathan, I think I could do just fine.”

“Sounds like you don’t want to see a concert tomorrow, I think what you mean to say is ‘Oh my god, Steve, this is the best news of my life, you’re the greatest guy ever, I can’t believe I know someone who can get me into a concert for my favorite little rock band’,” He taunted, raising his voice to a pitch that absolutely wasn’t Dustin’s, but he knew it would rial the kid up anyway.

Henderson’s put-upon sigh crackled through the receiver, and Steve couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. Dustin could be exasperated all he wanted, Steve knew this was going to be an amazing experience for him, even if they had the shittiest seats possible.

“They’re metal, Steve. Metal.”

“Yeah, yeah, pick you up at 7!”

“This better not be a trick, or-,” Steve hung up before he got caught in another round of banter. Cutting Dustin off always brought Steve a sick kind of pleasure, the kid could go on and on and on, honestly it was self preservation. He headed to his room to finally sleep, kicking Robin’s door as he went. She would be spared from a buzz cut tonight, he was in a good mood.

—

I’ve started tagging these as ‘the upside downers’ because that’s what I’m naming Stobin’s band, if you want to follow that tag specifically! I also always tag helpimstuckwriting for any of my writing

Tag list:

@weirdandabsurd42 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @snapshotmaestro @youraveragemushroom @stxrcrossed186 @remuslupinisthevoiceofgod @notfrogsunderatrenchcoat @irethsune @m-owo-n @phantomcat94

#i hope I got the banter right #i always feel like I’m terrible at dialogue #i like writing it but the ‘he said’ ‘she said’ tags are so awkward #sorry if it sucks lmao #stranger things #the upside downers #stobin #steddie #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #dustin henderson #stranger things ficlet #stranger things fic #famous eddie munson #fanfiction #helpimstuckwriting

[nburkhardt]

There might be a lot of them but I mean, how could I not try my hand at this? Especially after watching this and going “yep that hurts”. Granted, I ended up just using the line (“I know he used to be an asshole but…”) instead of going off the sound a whole lot.

Anyway….timeline is all screwed, don’t think about it too hard. Also clearly not canon. Obviously. Only hints of steddie.

~~~~~~

Look, he knows okay? It’s pretty well known across town. It’s no secret and he’s ashamed of it all, it��s something he doesn’t want to reminisce anymore. He’s grown and he thinks he’s better, hopes he’s better. Swears he hasn’t been like that for a few years now, so why does everyone keep bringing it up?

Why does he have to keep proving himself? What does he have to do for them to stop bringing it up?

The first time it happens, he brushes it off. Mostly because it’s true, he was an asshole and he was still learning and breaking himself from who he was. So, it makes sense for Nancy to say it to Barb and then again weeks later to Jonathan. Truth be told, he thinks neither of them believed Nancy.

(it’s a stab straight to the heart when she calls him bullshit)

It’s months before he hears it again, that he nearly forgot the words. It makes him freeze when he hears it from Dustin as he’s cleaning the Byers’s kitchen. The kid is arguing with his friends about why he’s even here. It’s like he’s hit with a bucket of cold water to hear, “sure, he can be an asshole but he’s here to help!”

Sure those words work to help the other kids lay off Dustin’s back, helps make them grumble less about him. But to him? The words sting and it feels worse coming from the kid who he actually likes, thinks they could be close. Clearly there’s a line between them.

He does forget the words, not even an hour later when Billy fucking Hargrove smashes a plate against his head and beats the shit out of him.

Almost a year later and who he was is thrown directly in his face on his first day of work at Scoops. It’s such a slap to the face, not even a full week after his dad cuts him off.

“Thought an asshole like you would on his way to college with daddy’s credit card”

The smile he had on his face just barely falls, mostly because he forces it to stay in place. It also stays because he’s frozen mid-step to introduce himself. Instead, he drops his hand and moves around her and starts working. The words swirling in his head all day, making him stay quiet and just do the job. Even when girls flirt with him, he ignores and works through it.

The “You Suck/You Rule” board came to be a few days later and he sucks it up and is civil with Robin over it, gives it his all to be friendly. If only just to make this job easier and so he doesn’t get fired for being rude. It isn’t until Dustin comes back from camp and the whole Russians and drugs on the floor for Robin to say it again

“You were such an asshole…”

He doesn’t fully hear what she says, it’s hard with the ringing in his ears and his brain froze the minute the word came out.

After it all, even with his brain screaming at him to run away to lick in his wounds, he doesn’t. Forces himself to see one of the EMTs and to help Robin find her parents and promises that she can call whenever she needs something. It’s only after that, that he makes his way home to have a breakdown over it all.

Despite it all, he does call Robin and Dustin his best friends. (Probably his only true friends, if he’s honest.) And he regularly hangs out with them, and sometimes drives Dustin and his friends around. It stops only because he and Robin get jobs at Family Video and the kids start high school.

He breathes easier now, he thinks. He’s been out of high school for a while now, hasn’t been “King Steve” since ‘83. Robin and him are close enough now that he doesn’t freeze anymore, only overthinks their friendship a little bit.

Spring Break rolls around and the moment Dustin and Max storm into Family Video, he’s immediately on edge. Doesn’t show it, of course. The whole search for Eddie Munson, he’s on edge.

He can’t tell if it’s because of the upside down or if those words will make itself known, again.

Everything is a blur, to be honest. Especially after he’s dragged under water and choked by the bats. Nothing really processes for him, it should worry him, actually.

What he does remember is thanking Eddie and being called metal and Eddie saying, “I guess I couldn’t accept the fact that Steve Harrington was actually a good dude”

That somehow swirls in his head after and he doesn’t get it. He’s spiraling over it, to be honest. Even if he’s also on autopilot making sure no one dies. After it all, rushing everyone to get their wounds checked and to make sure Max is alive, Eddie’s words are still swirling and he’s still confused.

He thinks about it every single day that he visits Eddie in the hospital. The other man isn’t awake, much like Max. He doesn’t speak much during the visits, too busy in his own head. Sometimes he mumbles the words back to a too-still Eddie, sometimes he questions the words and in turn, questions Eddie. Never getting any answers to his questions.

If he’s being honest, he doesn’t actually want answers. Maybe Eddie didn’t mean it, maybe he was just being nice in the moment. And he doesn’t want to hear Eddie say “thanks for saving me, but you’re still an asshole”

If he heard that, he’d probably break.

So, he stays quiet. Much like all those other times his friends called him an asshole.

Weeks go by and he doesn’t bring it up. Doesn’t even mention anything that happened in the upside down, even after Eddie wakes up and they’re friends now. Even after Max wakes up, nearly three months later.

They all regularly hang out together, including Eddie’s band mates. Who he can tell definitely don’t like him. So when they’re around, he doesn’t even bother Eddie. Even if all he wants to do is be near the metal head. But he can see it on their faces when he does stand close to Eddie, they never say anything in front of him and he can’t tell if he feels better about that or if he’d rather they do say with him near.

Ultimately, he hears the words again and causes him to actually have that breakdown he knew was coming.

It’s like the world hates him. Because he was having a good time, he was starting to actually believe Eddie’s words and was inching his way to the man, and of the places it happens at his house.

He’s sitting on a lounge chair watching Dustin try and fail at pushing Lucas into the water. Eddie’s curled up in the lounge chair pushed next to his, they’re talking about nothing in particular and he’s hyper aware of how close they’re getting right now.

“I don’t know, man, maybe-“ Eddie had started to say when someone else’s voice is louder and catches his attention.

“Oh, I know. Steve’s definitely an asshole”

And he freezes immediately, his body going rigid and growing hot, tears well up in his eyes. He can’t hear anything else and his eyes are blurry now but he has to get away. This is too much, he can’t breathe anymore.

He nearly falls into the pool in his rush to get up and away from everyone. He doesn’t even know who said it, not that it mattered right now. All that matters is getting away, he can’t be near them anymore. Needs to be alone, to breakdown by himself.

Why do it in front of all of them when they so clearly think it’s true?

“Steve’s definitely an asshole” swirls in his head as he forces himself to rush to his room. Clearly, they were just keeping him around as a buffer- because why else would any of them keep him around? Better to let the asshole get beat up instead of kids, right?

He falls onto the floor as soon as his door is shut and let’s out the sob that was stuck in his throat.

~~~~

Well that hurt 🥲

(Part two) (part three) (part four) (part five)

#angst #I’m sorry #steve harrington #steddie #steve harrington fic #you can bet your ass the one who said it at the end is Mike #because he’s the biggest asshole to Steve tbh #he was most likely talking with one of Eddie’s band mates #I suck at real dialogue tbh #but I could try at the happy ending this would get #BECAUSE HE DESERVES IT #Desperate Prayers of a Cursed Man fic #nburkhardt writes

[rozugold]

Woe villaininnit be upon ye

#dream smp fanart #villaininnit au #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #tubbo #rozoodles #been feeling bad. needed to draw ma boy #he doesn’t have any dialogue cuz I couldn’t think of anything skdhdj #Tommy writes the revive book out when stressed because he finds comfort in the repetitiveness of it #though ​he gets too sucked into it sometimes #distorted illusions

[cerise-on-top]

I was on Tik Tok and a video appeared of a woman getting ready (makeup, clothes, etc.) to wait for her police wife, I thought of this scenario with Alejandro. Could you do a oneshot like this?

Hey there! Please don't request oneshots or fics or something like that from me, I usually only write those when I'm inspired ^^; I made an exception this time, but please keep that in mind!

Waiting for Alejandro

Among those gentle dreams of twosomeness, where the lovely was the ordinary and loneliness was as far away as the end of the universe, you prayed. With your eyes closed, with your mind showing you beautiful, vivid dreams of your loved one caressing you, giving you the love you yearned for, you murmured along words of love. The gods would be benevolent enough to let you experience that happiness just once more. Where the wars would never end, where the fights were eternal, you hoped for a small respite from it all, granting such to a lone, tired soldier. A warm hand on his cheek, a smile you almost forgot in your wake, tender words exchanged. The pain of being alone was forgotten for just another moment, tearing your heart open any other time. But alas, a dream was as fleeting as a petal drifting through the wind.

Birdsong, louder than what you were used to, tore you from your peaceful slumber, the light shining through the window. It was not bright, but it almost blinded you. And even on this morning, as the birds sang about their love for one another, as they joined one another into an aria of affection, you felt the lightness of your bed. Even this morning, Alejandro had not yet joined you. You turned to his side, images of him slumbering away flickering in front of you. Your safe haven, your sanctuary of rest, was incomplete without him. Taking his pillow into your arms, you closed your eyes. His scent had faded entirely by now. As it was, nothing remained aside from blurry memories. Had you taken him for granted this entire time? Had you not been a good enough partner? Would he even return? Pangs of insecurity gnawed at your heart. Everything was going to be alright, Alejandro was alright. He was going to return soon.

And on your nightstand laid your phone. In your sadness, it seemed less appealing than usual. And yet, somehow, this morning, you felt more drawn to it than usual. Anxiety coursed through you. A simple “I’m coming home tonight” would ease any and all insecurities you had, but the disappointment of not seeing any messages would be too great. Taking it off the charger, you held it in your phone for a moment, running your finger along its case. Curiosity was a strong drive for many, but for you it held more sadness than anything. How long has it been since you had last seen Alejandro? Too long, but today likely wouldn’t change anything. Devoid of any contentment, you sighed. Maybe you should go back to sleep, delude yourself within those dreams of love. He was to return, for you would fight a seven nation army by yourself and boast an empty victory otherwise.

Another few minutes passed, sitting hunched over your phone without ever turning it on. You didn’t know the time, it didn’t matter. It was nothing you needed to know for the time being. An answer to your prayer came in something you didn’t want to see: Your phone vibrated, the screen lighting up and displaying a message.

I will be home in one and a half hours, wait for me 🥰

The sender was Alejandro.

Without batting an eye, you unlocked your phone, hovering your fingers over the virtual keyboard. You wanted to respond, you needed to, but your mind went blank. What were you to say when your mind wouldn’t respond, but your heart sang a little tune? Dancing in its cage, soon to be freed from its shackles. On its stage, it grew warm underneath all the lights. There was naught but a single person as its audience, but the cheers were as wholesome as they were genuine. It beat, it danced in hope. One and a half hours. All this time you were alone, you grew tired, exhausted even. Jumping up from your bed, you made haste towards your closet, picking out some lovely clothes. Alejandro had always loved seeing you in these, complimenting you every time. Today was a day unlike any other. It was special to you in so many ways, you hoped you could make it a day unlike many others for Alejandro as well.

The time spent in the bathroom was not marked by its brevity. Your hygiene made for the base of it all, combing your hair and brushing your teeth so you could feel clean. Although you would have loved to indulge in this little ritual, there was relatively little time. Between rushing to put on your fancy clothes and applying your makeup, you messed up quite a few times. Your speed could have rivaled that of professionals. Even as you poked your eye a few times, even as you applied more makeup than what was likely needed and you had to scrape off little bits. Looking in the mirror, your heart sank. What have you done to yourself? The precipitance caused you to look questionable at most. Alejandro deserved better than that. It was a special day, one to be celebrated. You could under no circumstances afford to look the way you did.

This time with more leisure, you applied everything yet again. Although you may have looked far from perfection, Aphrodite would have been proud of you either way. Rushing to look at your phone, you looked at the time. Ten minutes and the text would have been one and a half hours old.

You stepped outside. The warm sun hit your face and you looked around. No one yet. For as much as every fiber of your being wished for the time to fly by, for those ten minutes to be skipped, you tried to submit to your patience. You had waited for months, surely you could wait another few minutes.

And yet, those ten minutes didn’t seem to pass. If pain and suffering could turn seconds into minutes, then this little waiting game of yours had been turned into hours. Even as you took in the sun’s warm rays, closing your eyes while remembering all those times Alejandro complained about your vitamin D deficiency, as he forced you outside to soak up the warmth, the time didn’t seem to pass. With a sigh you leaned onto the rails.

Thanks for the ride, amigos!

The door to a car was forcefully closed shut and you opened your eyes. Indeed, there he was in all his glory, waving to those who had driven him home. The waiting had paid off. However, you had no control over yourself as you slowly moved towards him. As if on instinct, as if a moth drawn to flame, as if a child seeking its mother’s affection, you sped up, running right at him. Your heart beat loud and heavy in your ears, it was almost unbearable. However, he, too, seemed to have taken notice of you, standing still as he awaited your embrace.

Stumbling and tumbling about, you eventually reached him, wrapping your arms tightly around him. If he was smoke in the air, then you were the jar he was being captured with. You never wanted to let him go again, simply reveling in his touch instead. Alejandro seemed to reciprocate as he wrapped his arms around you as well, laughing as he did so.

“Someone’s very eager to see me today, eh? Good to see you too.”

“I missed you so much, you have no idea.”

The grip he had on you was somewhat tight, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. And for a moment, he was no longer a fighter, holding the one he loved the most. The wars were over for the time being, he could finally focus on something equally as important. And for a moment, the world was at peace. However, in order to protect such properly, he had to let go of you eventually, holding onto your shoulder for a moment longer still.

“Look at you, all dolled up just for me. You look stunning today, mi amor.”

“Thank you, I wanted this day to be special for the both of us.”

Taking on his role of a warrior yet again, he put his arm around you, shielding you from any and all harm there may be. Even in the comfort of his own home, Alejandro couldn’t help but fight whenever needed. It was his calling, his raison d’être. Even during the most peaceful times, threats of war always lingered. His walls were high still, only lowering them so you could get inside his heart and paint it with your love. Walking you towards your shared home, he hummed a little tune.

“I’m so glad to finally be home again. Now I can spend my time with you and relax a little bit.”

“Shit, I didn’t cook anything, though. I’m so sorry, Alejandro.”

He laughed yet again. That melodious, loud laughter you came to adore over the years you spent with him. After opening the door, he gave you a gentle peck to your forehead.

“Don’t worry too much about it, we can always just order some takeout.”

#cod #cod x reader #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader #this is the 100th request I've written for CoD #and overall I've written 118 things for the fandom #that's so much I have never written this much before. not even for my previous fandoms #this took so long to write even if it may not seem like much and I'm not even satisfied with it #could be worse but it could also be a lot better #writing headcanons is much easier and takes a lot less time as well which is why I usually just stick to those #also me not really taking requests for anything but HCs goes for anyone #the Farah one was an exception since I had a vision that I really wanted to write #but it's rare for me to be inspired enough to want to write a ficlet or something like that #but I really need to get better at writing dialogue. I've always sucked at it #practice makes perfect I suppose but I really gotta find something longer to write at some point #I do have one idea but I'm not sure if I should write it

[wikiangela]

seven sentence sunday

tagged by @giddyupbuck @daffi-990 💖💖

finally made some progress on the phone sex fic so here's just a lil bit of it haha (under the cut bc im still so unsure about this one jfc)

prev snippet

___

“Shit, Eddie, feels so-” a moan breaks out of him, then a frustrated groan. “My dick is fucking leaking.” he says, which is followed by another picture, a little blurry and angled weird, Buck already lost in pleasure and with only one hand available. It shows Buck’s pointer finger all the way inside himself, but the focus this time is on his dick and his stomach. Eddie swears he can see that dick throb through the picture, so hard and veiny and angry red. It rests on Buck’s stomach, painting it with pre-come, that generously leaks out. Eddie’s mouth salivates.

“I really wanna lick it all off and taste you.” he moans, eyes not leaving the picture. “Bet you taste fucking amazing.” he says, as quietly as he can muster, but it’s taking everything in him not to just scream in pleasure. Or to get in his car and drive to Buck right away. Unfortunately, he can’t – so he does the next best thing and takes a picture as well, hand wrapped around his cock, thumb circling the slit and gathering the wetness there. 

“Eddie.” Buck’s tone is pleading, begging.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gayarthur @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @jesuisici33 @diazblunt @911onabc @eddiediaztho @housewifebuck @thewolvesof1998 @fortheloveofbuddie @lover-of-mine @gayhoediaz @callaplums @rogerzsteven @watchyourbuck @hoodie-buck @monsterrae1 @hippolotamus @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @forthewolves @honestlydarkprincess @wildlife4life @spotsandsocks @disasterbuckdiaz @eowon @theotherbuckley

#seven sentence sunday #buddie phone sex smut #listen I have no idea what I'm doing with this one #i feel so unsure about this like i haven't in a long time and i think it must be fall bc i always feel just so awful in autumn #i wasn't even sure about posting this snippet ngl lol #miiiight be trying to do something with buck's praise kink bc dialogue-focused fic seems like perfect opportunity but idk if its working lo #the amount of research i did is crazy but aahhhh idk anything lmao #so my question is: who can I spam in the dms with snippets so you can tell me if it sucks or not lmao #buddie wip #buddie fic #buddie #wikiangela writes #my writing #fic snippet #my wips #buddie smut #smut

[suddencolds]

Fool Me Twice | [6/6]

Part 6 is finally here! 🎉 (6/6 feels so surreal to write.) I think this will be the last installment out of this mini-arc, but I definitely want to write more of these two in the future (+ have a lot very loosely planned, if I can ever get around to writing it).

Part 6 ft. fake dating, cold-induced exhaustion, and questionable decisions

You can read part 1 [here]! The other parts are listed in my [fic masterlist].

—

Yves isn’t sure what he expects.

He wakes up early to shovel snow from the front porch, makes breakfast, weighs his options over breakfast, and then—maybe ill-advisedly—texts Vincent before he heads out for work.

Y: tell me you got some rest last night! 

V: Of course

Y: more than 3 hours? 

V: Do you even need to ask?

Y: i’m sure no one would mind if you took the day off Y: give someone else a chance to be the most irreplaceable person in the room for a day!  Y: i swear i’ve never seen you take a sick day

V: No need. I’m feeling a lot better today

It’s said with such conviction that Yves thinks he has no reason to question it. It isn’t like Vincent to be outright dishonest, after all. If he’s claiming to be feeling better, he must be at least on the mend.

It’s for that reason that Yves resists the urge to go out of his way to check on him. The office building is spacious enough that neither of them has a reason to cross paths, usually, except potentially at lunch.

And either way, it’s nothing Yves should have to concern himself with—Vincent can take care of himself. He can, and he will, Yves thinks. Perhaps in the future Yves will be able to take him out for a proper dinner, as a way of showing his thanks. But until then, things will be back as they’ve always been, barring the unusual circumstances over the last few days. Yves will go back to regarding Vincent as nothing more than a colleague—as someone he cares about to the appropriate extent, as someone whose life he’s in only tangentially.

And Vincent doesn’t need anyone—least of all, Yves—to look out for him. Yves likes his coworkers, but he knows better than to confuse civility with friendliness. He and Vincent certainly aren’t close enough to be properly considered friends.

It’s with that reassurance that he goes about work for the first few hours of the day. It’s easy, as always, to fall into the flow of it. He’s a little more tired than usual—he finds himself stifling a yawn into one hand during the morning team meeting—but not quite tired enough to be nodding off, at the very least.

Work always feels longer when he’s tired, though it’s never too long of a stretch until lunch. As a general rule, he likes to tackle the more difficult work in the morning, after he’s had his morning coffee, and save the more structured, less demanding busywork for after lunch. It’s interesting, but it’s work nonetheless, and all in all, it goes by especially slowly. He very pointedly does not allow his mind to wander. Halfway through his morning, Laurent shows him some of the ridiculous emails he’s gotten from a particularly standoffish client, and Cara comes over to peek over his shoulder and laugh with him about Laurent’s businesslike, unwavering civility, and the morning goes by faster after that.

It’s only when he’s a few steps away from the break room that he hears—or, rather, overhears—

“I’m sorry,” someone says, from the other side of the door. It takes him a moment to recognize the voice for who it is—the new hire. Angelie. Right. It’s not that he means to eavesdrop, but he thinks it’s strange that she feels the need to apologize at all. It sounds like the kind of apology that she really, sincerely means—not one given out of thinly-veiled obligation, not one exchanged only as a business courtesy, and that makes him pause.

He wonders what it is that she thinks she’s done wrong. Maybe if he sticks around, he can reassure her afterwards—he knows how intimidating it can be to be new. “When I asked you for help, I didn’t realize how much work it’d be.”

“It’s— it’s ndo problem, snf-!” Whoever she’s talking to says. As if Yves doesn’t know immediately; as if Yves hasn’t been thinking—or rather, trying not to think—about said person all morning. “I’m used to it.”

“Still, if I had known how long it’d take—”

“It’s really okay, Angelie.” 

“You’ve been such a big help to me. I didn’t know until Charlotte told me you’ve been here all morning trying to—”

“It’s fine. This isn’t any sort of special circumstance. I’mb - snf-! - frequently here early. J-just a second—” For a moment, Yves wonders if they’ve lowered their voices to speak more quietly, but then the reason for the lull in the conversation becomes evident. Vincent coughs—harshly enough that, even through the wall, it sounds almost certainly painful. When he speaks up again, his voice sounds noticeably hoarser than before. “Sorry. I— coughcough - I’m happy to be - snf-! - of assistance, really.”

“Thank you,” Angelie says. “I honestly don’t know what I would do without you. I think I’m good from here—but um, if you don’t mind me asking…”

She hesitates. For some reason Yves can’t quite parse, she sounds uncertain.

“What is it?” Vincent says.

“Um, are you okay?”

All of a sudden, the apology makes sense.

“What?”

“You— seem—”

“I’m fine,” Vincent says. 

“Okay.” A beat. “Do you need cough drops? I have a whole bag at my desk. I always get sick when I’m in new places, so—it hasn’t happened yet, I mean, but I wanted to be prepared in case it does. If you want any, I have a ton to spare.”

Yves hears the static whir of the coffee machine as it comes to life. 

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m okay,” Vincent says. “Though, you should - hH… hh… hH-hih’GKT-! snf-!” The sneeze doesn’t sound relieving in the least, and the sniffle which follows seems as good as useless. “You should keep your distance.”

“Well, the offer still stands if you end up needing them later,” Angelie says, sounding uncertain. “Thanks again for all the help.”

“It’s no problem. If you run into any issues later, don’t be afraid to reach out.”

He hears footsteps, receding—Angelie is going back to work, he realizes. And, judging by the sound of the coffee machine, Vincent is still here, making his usual morning espresso.

Yves really shouldn’t interrupt. He should turn around and head back to his office desk. Really, it’s none of his business if Vincent is okay. It’s none of his business whether or not Vincent got to the office early today, as usual, despite working so late last night. It’s none of his business whether or not Vincent is feeling well enough to be here in the first place. Perhaps he should go back to his desk—perhaps he doesn’t need coffee as imminently as he’d thought.

Against all logic, he finds himself on the other side of the break room door.

At the sound of the door opening, Vincent looks up. Yves catalogs his appearance in silence. His hair is as neat as usual, his jacket ironed, his tie perfectly straight, but there’s an unusual flush high on his cheekbones, a paleness to his complexion.

“Yves,” Vincent says.

His voice practically cracks on the syllable, as if he’s just a few conversations away from losing his voice. He sounds so distinctly unwell, Yves realizes.

And he looks exhausted. The dark circles under his eyes are even more prominent than before, and when he lifts his elbow to his face to muffle a few harsh, breathless coughs into his sleeve, there’s an uncharacteristic sluggishness to the motion of it. When he lowers his arm, there’s a thin sheen of water to his eyes—from the sheer force of the coughing fit, perhaps. His eyes are a little red-rimmed.

Vincent sniffles, though the sound is so congested that Yves isn’t sure it’s made any difference at all. Past them, the coffee machine beeps to signal that it’s done.

Yves pushes the door shut behind him. His mouth feels dry.

“I wadted to - snf-! - properly thank you for last ndight,” Vincent starts. “I realize that—” His eyes water, and he blinks, reaching up with one hand to rub his nose. “That you - hH-hHih…” He veers away from Yves, steepling both his hands over his face as his shoulders jerk forward with a forceful, “hihH’GKT’ShhuH!” And then, just a few moments later, another - “hH… hiIH… HIIh’NGKTshHh!-!” The sneezes—even stifled—sound loud enough to grate on his throat. It’s no wonder his voice sounds off. “I realize that you ended up staying a lot later than you planned to.”

Yves stares at him. Is this really what Vincent thinks he wants to hear?

“And I apologize if I came across as…” Yves sees the moment Vincent’s gaze unfocuses. He sees the way Vincent tenses, cupping a hand over his face for another, “HIh’Gktt! Hh… hHh… hiih—!”

The look of ticklish desperation—his eyebrows creased, his expression slack—doesn’t let up, even as his breath settles. Vincent rubs his nose with the bridge of his index finger, sniffling again, as if to coax out the sneeze that his body seems so adamant on denying him—

“hiHH-’IksSHuhh! … hHIH… Hh… hh-hIih—HIih-TSCHhuuh! snf-!” A soft, almost imperceptible exhale. “Excuse mbe, I...” His voice practically gives out on that note, and he takes a halting step back, veering aside with another fit of coughs.

“You said you were feeling better,” Yves all but snaps, when he’s done.

Vincent looks off to the side. “I’m not as tired as I was yesterday,” he says. “So, in that regard.”

He turns aside to lift the coffee mug from where it sits on the machine. There’s a slight tremor to his hand when he picks it up, before he steadies it—indicative of one too many cups of coffee, perhaps—or, knowing Vincent, probably a lot more than that.

“In that regard?” Yves repeats. “So you’re feeling worse off in every other regard?” 

He doesn’t mean for it to come out so accusatory, but a part of him feels—betrayed, maybe. By the dishonesty of Vincent’s response, by the intensity of his own worry.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Vincent looks like he’s about to say something more, but then he’s hurriedly setting his coffee down, raising both hands to his face, again, for—

“hiIH… HIIH’GK-t! Hh! Hih… HIih’IZSCHhuh!” A single, breathless, “Sorry,” and then - “hhH-! snf-…!” Yves watches his expression crumple as he jerks forward, his eyes watering. “hiIH-NGkt-! Hh…. HHh… hiIH-!... HH‘IIKTCHhuhH-!”

The sneezing fit is punctuated by another round of coughing, which all but confirms that all this sneezing is making Vincent lose his voice faster. 

Yves passes him a coffee napkin. Vincent eyes it for a moment before taking it, gingerly.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Yves says. “You’re clearly unwell.”

“I’m fine. I had a couple calls this morning.”

“You didn’t think to cancel?”

“They were urgent.”

“And what do you think our clients would think if they see that you’re clearly coming down with something?” 

“I took medicine to suppress the symptoms,” Vincent says, glancing off to the side. “A few hours ago. It’s - coughcough - just starting to wear off.”

“I don’t get it,” Yves says, feeling the frustration build in his chest. “You’re not going to recover quickly if you keep pushing yourself.”

“It’s just a cold. There’s nothing I can do but wait it out.”

“There are plenty of things you could do. You could take a sick day, for one. You could head home early. You could even get more than a few hours of sleep, instead of—” Yves looks toward the coffee mug in his hands. “—insisting on taking cold medicine and keeping yourself awake with caffeine. Just how many cups of coffee have you already had this morning?”

“I’m fine, Yves. 

“As you’ve said,” Yves says, a little bitterly. “Though, even if you insist on lying to everyone else, at least you should be honest to yourself.” 

Vincent is quiet for a moment.

When he speaks, his voice is carefully even. “Is that why you’re so upset?”

“What?”

“It’s because I told you I was feeling better.”

Yves supposes that’s part of it. But another part of him is frustrated—with himself, first and foremost, for putting Vincent in this situation in the first place, for inconveniencing someone he’s already indebted to, only to have to watch from the sidelines, guiltily, with no way to help. Back then—with Erika, with crew, with university; with the cheating, and the aftermath; with the apartment hunting, with the start of his job, with everything else—Yves has always disliked the revelation that there’s nothing he can do.

“You’re free to lie to me,” he says. “I know we’re not close. But I care about you, which is why I asked.” 

“I don’t think you understand.” Vincent takes a measured sip from his coffee. His hand trembles slightly when he lifts the cup, and Yves has the sudden urge to take it from his hands. Vincent sighs. “Do you know why I told you I was feeling better?”

That seems obvious enough. “Because you wanted me to stop asking.”

“Because I don’t want it to be anyone else’s problem,” Vincent snaps. “Especially not yours.”

Before Yves has the time to fully process that statement, Vincent continues. “I don’t want my assignments to be work on someone else’s plate. I don’t want my health to be someone else’s problem. You already stayed so late last night—you went out of your way to get me dinner. How could I possibly ask any more of you?”

The sentence seems to grate unpleasantly against his throat for the way that he winces a little, turning aside to cough harshly into his fist. “I’m not feeling well today, but I knew you’d be worried if I told you. And how could I knowingly take up more of your time? After everything you’ve done for me already?” 

His sentence tapers off into another coughing fit, which he emerges from with another wince. It must hurt his throat to speak.

“I wasn’t being honest when you asked me how I was feeling,” Vincent says—finally an admission, but hearing it now doesn’t make Yves feel better at all. “But it would be selfish of me to make this any more of your problem than it already is.”

In lieu of responding, Yves takes the coffee cup from his hands and sets it down, gingerly, on the countertop. He takes another mug—unwraps an herbal tea bag from the cabinets, while he’s at it—and fills it to the brim with warm water, for the tea to steep. He stirs in a spoonful of honey. Steam rises from the cup in white wisps, and with it, the faint smell of chamomile.

When the tea is ready, he holds the cup by the rims, turning the handle outwards for Vincent to take. Vincent regards it with confusion, his eyebrows furrowing slightly, and for a moment, Yves wonders if he should clarify that it’s meant for him.

But then he takes it. Watching him lift the cup to take a sip—seeing the brief, miniscule flash of relief as his throat dips with a swallow—makes something tighten in Yves’s chest.

It takes everything in him not to cross his arms outright. 

“You are really a hypocrite,” he says. 

“What?”

“You helped Angelie, just yesterday. You helped me when I was just starting out. Both of us made our work—and our training, and our inexperience—your problem.” For all the things Yves has asked of him—for all the things he’s seen others ask of him, however inordinate—Vincent has never once complained. 

“You’re always taking on things for other people, because you know you’re capable of doing them,” Yves says. “How is it any different if it’s you?”

Vincent doesn’t say anything, to that.

“You’re harder on yourself than you are on anyone else,” Yves says, with a sigh. “Even if you tell me not to worry, I’m still going to worry about you. But it’s not a burden to me.”

Something in Vincent’s expression stills. 

“I know I can’t change your mind,” Yves says. “But you should get some rest—whenever you can. You’ve already done more than enough, I promise. I—or anyone else on the team—can take up anything that can’t wait until you’re feeling better.”

Vincent turns away, his shoulders trembling on an inhale, and Yves barely squeezes in a preemptive “Bless you,” before—

“Hh… hiIH’EKkTSHuhH! Hh… hh… HiIH’IIKKtsCHuhH! snf-! ”

He lifts his free hand up to cover, his eyes squeezing shut as he muffles the sneezes into his wrist. It’s a miracle that the tea doesn’t spill, Yves thinks.

When he emerges, a little teary-eyed, sniffling, he really does look tired. He says, “I don’t understand why you care so much.”

Isn’t it obvious? Yves opens his mouth to say just as much, only…

…Only, Vincent looks genuinely stricken.

“I like you,” Yves says, because it’s the truth. Because he wants, suddenly, for Vincent to know it. “Do I need any other reason?”

“That seems… impossibly simple.” “It is,” Yves says. For a moment, he wants to tell Vincent just exactly how simple it is, just how easy Vincent is to like.

“I didn’t intend to worry you,” Vincent says, looking off to the side. “I didn’t expect for anyone to be worried in the first place.”

Yves—who frequently worries about people, whether they want him to or not—laughs. “If you don’t want me to worry about you, you should hurry up and get better.”

At this, Vincent nods, contemplative. “Duly noted.”

“Which means getting some proper rest.”

“I’ll consider it.”

(Yves half expects that to be a lie. But when he gets to work the next morning, Vincent’s desk is unoccupied, for once, and there’s a small packet of cough drops leaned up against his desktop monitor—so he had asked Angelie for them yesterday, after all—and a stack of files set off neatly to the side, marked For Later.

Yves supposes he can deal with that.)

#snz fic #sneeze fic #sneeze kink #snz kink #snz #as promised! posted today! #it sucked the life out of me to write this installment 😭 heart to hearts are so difficult and i really struggle with writing like #inter-dialogue descriptions #i hope it was alright 😵‍💫 #i have many many plans for these two in the future if people are still interested in reading them still #to anyone who has left feedback in the tags for prev parts i owe my life to you 😭 thank you for encouraging me to finish this #my fic #yvverse

[snailvibes]

The dream was already dead with all the implications it was just a piece of their soul but they didn’t need to stomp on my heart by confirming it💔

#sigh #idk I think a small part of me was hoping the interview would be like #actually no that’s agent 4 sucked in the Memverse we just didn’t write any dialogue about it for some reason #third dlc copium returns ig #snails ramblings #splatoon #agent 4 #splatoon 3 #side order

[cleaningbones]

plato's meno (3rd/4th century BCE) + sweet smell of success (1957)

#i am insane abt this part of the dialogue.... #funnily enough i kinda despise reading platos socratic dialogues but GODDAMN can plato write homoeroticism #the things he'd have to say abt sweet smell of success............ #also i can't edit for shit ik this sucks ass #but if i didn't do it who would? #sweet smell of success