#i feel like i got posessed

[dr1lldash]

i attempted to write angst but it ended up being like 40% me bullshitting ow lore, 40% fluff and 20% angst

venture x overwatch agent!reader 4.4k (oh my god)

You had been a member of Overwatch for only a few short weeks when you first met them. You had gotten word of a potential attack by Talon in Petra, and Winston had personally chosen you to go with the team.

“It won’t be dangerous,” he told you, “Well, it won’t be any more dangerous than usual.” You were to go with Hana, Lena, Brigitte and Lucio. You were friendly enough with each of them, meaning that the silences on the aircraft ride over weren’t too awkward.

Stepping off the aircraft, the hot air hit you full blast. It wasn’t humid, so it was manageable, but you were glad you wore as little clothing as possible. A tank top exposed your arms, and the pants you wore as part of your uniform were loose, allowing for decent air flow.

The five of you were surrounded on all sides by high, rocky cliffs, and as you looked around, you noticed a steep dropoff only meters away from your ship. You made a mental note, taking a step to your right to ease your anxiety. Tents littered the ground, long cables stretching out and disappearing into caves. You followed Brigitte past the tents, up a small staircase and into one of the caves. You were trying your best to pay attention to what was being said while still admiring the desert surrounding you, but you failed.

“What did she say?” you whisper to Lena, who was only a foot or so ahead of you.

“Talon is trying to get some artifact that the Wayfinders have been working to get, we’re gonna stop them.” She gives you a look. “Could you not hear her back here?” You shrug. “Let’s move up, then!”

The two of you walk faster to pass Hana, now standing almost directly behind Brigitte and Lucio. Brigitte turns back to look at you and flashes a smile. “Isn’t this exciting? I’ve never been here before. Or to any archeological dig, actually.” You nod back, trying to match her enthusiasm.

As you get deeper in the cave, the air cools significantly and you shiver slightly, suddenly wishing you had dressed in layers. You see a rather large monitor with a holograph globe behind it, a few members of the Society studying them and talking amongst themselves.

“Dr. Faisal?” Lucio greets the man staring at the monitor, glancing down to take notes in his notebook every few seconds. “It’s good to see you.” The doctor turns around and Lucio holds out a hand, which the doctor happily shakes.

“It’s great to meet you all,” he smiles. “I wish it were under better circumstances, but we’re happy to have you all here.” He gestures behind your group. “If you’d follow me this way, I have information more relevant on another computer.”

The five of you move apart, making a walkway and following the doctor up a rocky incline. The monitor there is very similar to the one he was taking notes at, but features small, pulsing blue dots, one a few meters away from the others. “Talon,” Hana almost growls.

“Indeed. We think they’ll be here before nightfall.”

“Why are they coming here? Do you know what they’re looking for?” Brigitte questions.

The doctor shifts nervously on his feet. “We don’t know exactly what they’re looking for, but we know where it is.” He pauses. “We just uncovered a hidden treasure chamber, just above our heads, but we haven’t yet been able to explore it. Someone should be trying to find a way in as we speak.”

“Someone?”

“A member of our team, someone all too eager to volunteer.”

“Is it possible there’s anything else Talon is interested in?”

“There is a potential excavation site that we haven’t yet been able to find a safe way into. It’s far down, and the floor above it is very unstable. We’re unsure if we’ll ever be able to explore, although I doubt Talon has the same penchant for life that we do. I’d hate for us to miss something important, but I’d hate for someone to get hurt more.”

“Can we see?”

Dr. Faisal nods. “Of course, I just ask that everyone is careful.” After the five of you nod, the doctor leads you away, down a few more sets of crumbling stairs, through a storage room and into a large, open area where the sun is able to beam directly onto you. The floor is crumbling, more than the other parts of the site, and you’re able to look down into the abyss. A cold wind blows through the cracks in the floor, and as you lean forward ever so slightly, a strong hand grips your arm, pulling you backwards. As you try to regain your footing, rock falls from where your feet had just been, widening the gap.

You turn back to look at your savior, and you’re met with a pair of beautiful brown eyes, thick eyebrows and a barbell pierced through one of them. “Thank you,” you say, blinking rapidly.

They look down at you, face a bit softer than it was a moment ago. “No problemo,” they say, flashing you a grin. One of their teeth is chipped, and you can’t help but think that it suits them really well.

“Sloan,” the doctor starts, “thank you for joining us.”

“Sorry I’m late,” Sloan responds, releasing your arm and rubbing the back of their head with their hand. “I did manage to get through the wall, though!”

“Was there anything of interest?”

“Oh my God, yeah! Tons of gold, a bunch of pottery, and some things I can’t even begin to describe!” They bounce on their heels for a moment, then seem to remember where they are and calm themself down. “I asked some of the others to pack it up so I could help you.”

Before anyone can respond, a loud, metallic whirring fills the air. Talon had found you. Lucio speaks, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard. “Doctor, go help the others get the artifacts onto our ship. We’ll drive Talon off, we’ll keep the site as safe as we can. Do you need a weapon?”

Dr. Faisal waves him off. “No, I trust all of you to keep us safe.” He turns to look at Sloan. “Do you want to fight?”

“Absolutely.” Their voice is calmer than it was a few minutes ago, and as you turn to look at them again, you see a fierce look in their eyes. “You all get out of here, I’ll make sure everyone and everything is protected.” The doctor nods in understanding.

“Please, don’t get hurt.” They flash a grin at him.

“Who, me? I’ve got a lot more to see before I die.” Dr. Faisal gives them a look before patting their shoulder, turning and jogging further into the caves.

A deep laugh chills your spine as he disappears. “Are you waiting for us?” A tall, muscular man is stalking towards you, followed by several other figures in black uniforms. “How kind of you.”

The battle that follows is a blur. You’re struggling to keep up, and although you manage to knock a few Talon members to the ground, they keep getting back up. The floor further crumbles beneath your feet, but you seem to be the only one bothered by this. You have completely lost track of Sloan, but every so often you hear a loud drill beneath your feet before they fly out of the ground, distracting whoever is currently fighting you before they dig back down into the earth.

Slowly, Overwatch comes out on top. Some of Talon’s forces drag their fallen comrades off, presumably back to their ship, while the others, visibly exhausted, fight until they fall. You think the battle is almost over, and you start to relax, until you hear Sloan call out, “Watch out!”

Time moves in slow motion as you turn your head and see Doomfist cocking his fist, staring straight into your eyes. He flies through the air, and right as he’s about to hit you, a figure comes between you, blocking you from the punch. Sloan lets out a loud grunt, falling to the ground as Doomfist lets out a sound of disapproval. Looking around and finding himself alone, he rolls his eyes.

“We will be back.” He walks off at almost a leisurely pace, and a minute later, you hear that same whir of an aircraft fill the air and slowly fade.

Exhausted, you fall to the ground. “Is everyone okay?” Brigitte calls out.

Lena, Lucio, Hana and you all give out some form of affirmation. You look to your side, and see Sloan lying face-down. Only their chest seems to be moving. You reach out to touch their shoulder, shaking it gently. “Sloan?” They don’t respond.

“Sloan is hurt.” Immediately, the entire group gets their second wind. You race back to the aircraft with Hana, grabbing a stretcher and carrying it back. Brigitte helps Lucio to gently load them on, and you follow closely behind as you load back onto the aircraft. Sloan is barely moving, letting out groans of pain in random intervals, and their chest is moving more and more rapidly. The flight to the nearest Overwatch base feels like it takes forever.

Even as the medic team takes them away, you follow closely behind, tears welling up in your eyes. “Is everything okay?” The worry in Angela’s voice is clear, but you can’t get words out without sobbing.

“They’re a member of the Wayfinder society,” Brigitte explains. “They helped us fight off Talon, but they got hurt. I don’t know how badly.”

“They were helping me,” you manage to say, “Doomfist would have killed me. Are they going to be okay?” Angela does her best to reassure you, telling you that the fact that they’re still breathing is such a good sign.

“Their vitals aren’t ideal, but they haven’t lost a lot of blood. I think they broke some ribs, but I’ll have to check for internal bleeding.” She takes both of her hands in yours, looking you straight in the eyes. “I promise you, they will not die. Everything will be okay.”

You know she doesn’t make promises she can’t keep, but you still can’t calm yourself down. Angela releases your hands before she runs into the med bay. There’s a small window allowing you to look in, but as you glance in, you see Sloan connected to several tubes and you know if you keep watching, you’re only going to make yourself more worried. You allow Brigitte to walk you away, taking you back to your room.

“Are you going to be okay?” she asks, rubbing her hand on your shoulder. “I can get some food for you, we can watch a movie -”

“I’ll be okay.” The sobs are beginning to subside. “I just need to sleep.”

“Okay.” She lets go of you. “You can call me if you need me. You know where my room is, right?” You nod. “They’re going to be okay. Angela is the best of the best, I promise.”

She exits your room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You fight them as hard as you can, and as the adrenaline fades from your body, you realize how exhausted you are. You curl into a ball, clutching your pillow to your chest, and allow sleep to overcome you.

You wake up hours later to sunlight streaming in through your window. You rub remnants of tears from your eyes and stretch, wincing at the aching in all of your muscles. You sit up, swing your legs over the side of your bed, walk to your bathroom and take a long shower before changing out of the sweat-stained clothes you’ve been wearing since the day before. You’re still exhausted, but you feel a bit refreshed.

You skip breakfast, making your way to the med bay to see how Sloan is doing. You almost don’t want to enter their room. There are less tubes attached to them than there were the day before, but they still look unwell. They’re sleeping, and there’s a consistent beep on the heart monitor next to them. You watch them through the small window for a minute before deciding to enter their room.

There’s a stool underneath a desk in the corner of their room, and you pull it out to sit on it next to their bed. You fiddle with your hands in your lap, unsure of what to do or say. It’s not like they can hear you while they’re unconscious, anyway.

“Thank you for saving me.” The words are barely audible, and your voice cracks a bit as you say it. Tears start to well up in your eyes again, worrying about what could happen to them or what could have happened to them. You know you wouldn’t have been holding onto life as well as they are, that you probably wouldn’t have even made it back to the base.

“Any time.” Their voice is hoarse and it sounds like it took effort for them to get the words out. You look up at them to see a soft smile on their face, eyes smiling as they look back at you.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were awake.” You stand up. “I can go, I’m sure you need rest.”

“Can you stay?” These words are clearer. “I was only sleeping because I was bored. There’s nothing for me to do here.”

“There’s the TV, if you want to watch that.” You grab the remote off the desk and offer it to them. They shake their head.

“TV doesn’t interest me like people do.”

“Oh.” You set the remote back down on the desk, sitting down on the stool again. “What do you want to talk about?”

The next few hours pass by quickly. Sloan asks you questions about yourself, and you answer as best they can. Sometimes they go off on tangents about completely unrelated things, usually regarding the Petra digsite, although sometimes they talk about omnic history. You make a mental note to ask Echo to visit them.

Their stomach rumbles, interrupting your conversation. “Have you eaten today?”

“Not since breakfast.” They pout. “I asked for something sweet, but nobody would bring me anything.”

“I’ll ask Dr. Zeigler if I can give you something. She said your vitals were fine yesterday, I’m sure I can bring you a cookie or something.” They flash a grin at you, making your heart skip a beat.

“You’re the best!”

You walk out of their room, stopping by Angela’s office to get permission. She double checks Sloan’s vitals on her computer, and nods in agreement. “They can have something small. A cookie, a piece of cake.” She looks up at you. “They’re recovering well. I’m glad you’re talking with them.” You fight the blush spreading on your cheeks as you walk to the canteen. You get lunch for the two of you, and a small slice of chocolate cake for Sloan.

Their face lights up as you walk back into their room. “Hey there!” You hand them the tray with the cake on it, and they’re quick to start eating. The conversation picks back up easily, and the sun shining through their window fades sooner than you would expect. They pout as you say your goodbyes, but let you go after you promise to come back the next day.

Sloan stays at the base for the next eight weeks, the two of you spending as much time together as you can every day. Angela lets you know that they broke several ribs, as well as bruising their jaw and pelvis. Their injuries could have been a lot more severe, and considering the circumstances, they should have been, but they were as okay as they could have been. She manages to convince the Wayfinder Society that they are better off recovering in a stable environment, and although they want to get back to the digsite as soon as possible, they relent, allowing themself to stay at Overwatch’s base.

About six weeks into their stay, when they’re mostly healed but the medical team still wants to keep an eye on them, they get their own room just down the hall from yours. The Society sends a bag of their belongings, and they waste no time pinning posters and maps all over the wall. Seeing them in their own clothes is a huge change from the hospital gowns you’ve grown used to seeing them in. Most of what they were wearing at this point were simple t-shirts with cargo shorts or jeans, but it suited them so well. They looked much more comfortable, too, which made you happy in a way you can’t fully describe.

One day, you were walking to their room from yours, intending to get breakfast with them in the canteen as the two of you had been doing since they got a little bit more freedom. As you’re about to knock on their door, you overhear them talking.

“I’m so glad you’re safe. You make my life so much better, I really don’t know what I’d do without you, Rosetta.” Your heart sinks. You had come to terms with your slight crush on Sloan a little while before, but you should have known that they already had a significant other. Someone as attractive and funny and passionate as Sloan wouldn’t be single, after all. You decide not to bother them, figuring that they’re on the phone with their partner, and you make your way back to your room, resigning to having snacks for breakfast.

A few minutes later, you hear a knock on your door. “[Y/N]?” Sloan’s voice calls out. “Are you there?”

You hesitate before answering. “I’m here.”

“Are we getting breakfast?”

“I’m not feeling well, sorry.”

“Oh, uh, okay.” You hear them take a step back. “Feel better soon.”

You don’t answer them, instead wrapping yourself in a blanket and looking out your window. An hour passes, and you hear footsteps pause in front of your door before disappearing in the direction of Sloan’s room. When you open your door, you find a box filled with tea bags, honey, cough drops and a book, with a note telling you it’s from Sloan, small drawings littering the paper. You take it in your room but leave it on your desk.

The next day, Winston once again asks you to go on a mission, this time in Rio de Janeiro. Lucio once again joins you, as well as Winston himself. It’s quick, you leave in the morning and you’re back in time to fall asleep in your own bed, but you’re glad to have the distraction from Sloan. You’re trying to get over your crush on them, you really are, but you can’t help but feel hurt that they didn’t mention a significant other. You’d been talking almost nonstop for two months, you almost thought they felt the same way about you.

It doesn’t help that they had taped a note on your door while you were gone. It was a simple “I hope your mission goes well!”, but it makes a lump form in your throat. You want to crumple it up, throw it away, but you can’t bring yourself to. You set it on top of the book they gifted you the day before, crawling into bed and fighting the urge to cry yourself to sleep.

You’re woken up the next morning to a soft knock on your door. “[Y/N]?” Sloan’s voice is low. “Are you awake?”

You want to stay silent, pretend you’re asleep, but you force yourself to answer. “Yeah.” It sounds colder than you meant for it to.

“Do you want to get breakfast?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Oh.” The enthusiasm that you usually hear in their voice is gone, and you feel your heart twist. “I guess you’re still sick. Have you drank any of the tea?”

“I don’t like tea.” A lie. Despite not talking about it before, they had gotten your favorite kind of tea.

“Oh.” There’s a moment of silence. “I’m sorry.” You hear their footsteps fade in the direction of their room once again, and you turn on your side to cry on your pillow.

It’s petty to act this way, but you need space and you can’t just ask for it. This hurts both of you, but you’re sure it’s for the best. They’ll be gone in another week or two anyway, back with Rosetta, and they’ll forget all about you. Sloan will be back to the Wayfinder Society, and you can focus on work again.

You end up crying yourself to sleep, waking up hours later to a soft knock on your door. You recognize the pattern as Sloan at this point, but they don’t say anything, they just walk away. Confused, you open your door to find a dinner tray with a bottle of water and a slice of chocolate cake. A sticky note on the tray confirms that it’s from Sloan, reading “I miss getting dinner with you. I hope you feel better soon.” There’s a scribble towards the bottom. Your guess is that they started to draw something but decided against it, which somehow hurts more.

You eat slowly, drinking the water bottle rather quickly. The cake is dry, and the frosting sticks to the roof of your mouth. You set your tray on your desk, next to the box of gifts from Sloan that’s laid forgotten for the past few days

You sigh, looking once again at the unopened bags of your favorite tea. They’re probably sleeping, but you need to try to talk to them, to apologize for how you’ve been acting. Some sort of closure will make you feel better, and you need to accept that they aren’t going to be yours. It’s not fair to cut them off like this, not to them and not to you. Determined, you exit your room, walking down the hall to Sloan’s room.

Your determination wears off as you approach their door. You put your hand up to knock, and realize you don’t know how to start the conversation. Do you tell them what you feel? Do you apologize and hope they don’t ask questions? Do you just ask them to grab a late-night snack with you? God, are they even going to be awake?

You start to lower your hand when their door opens. Sloan looks at you, a look of surprise on their face. “I didn’t expect to see you. Are you feeling better?”

Tears start to well in your eyes and you don’t fully understand why. You turn to leave, but Sloan grabs your wrist. “Did I do something? You won’t talk to me. I…” They let out a sigh. “I thought we were friends.”

You blink the tears away, turning back to face them. “I want to be friends, it’s just hard.” Sloan looks down at their hand, still holding onto your wrist.

“I know what you mean.”

“You really don’t.”

They won’t look you in the eyes. “I really like you, [Y/N]. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Tears start to flow on your cheeks, making it harder for you to breathe. They look back up at you.

“You just want to be friends, and I ruined it. I should have kept it to myself, I’m sorry.”

You’re confused. “What do you mean?”

They cock their head at you. “Is this not about my note?”

You shake your head slightly. “What note?”

“The one inside the book.” You grimace slightly.

“I…haven’t opened it yet.”

“Wait, then what is this about?”

“What does the note say?”

Sloan lets go of your wrist, bringing their hand back to rub at the back of their head. “I, uh. I forgot.”

“I can go read it.” You turn to go, but Sloan grabs onto you once again, this time a bit tighter.

“I like you.” You turn to face them, eyes wide. “I liked you the first day we met, and I swear I didn’t do it on purpose, but I’m really glad that me getting hurt meant we could spend more time together. These past few weeks, eating and talking and just hanging out have been some of the best times in my life outside of the Wayfinder Society. I’m really sorry if I made things awkward, [Y/N], but…I like you.” They let go of your wrist. “I’ll ask Dr. Zeigler if I can go tomorrow. I wish we could have been friends.”

This time, you reach, grabbing them on the forearm. Their skin is softer than you would have thought, warm and muscular. “I really like you, Sloan.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” There’s a frown on their lips. “It’s okay, you don’t have to.”

You reach out to grab their chin with your other hand, pulling it softly towards you and placing a gentle kiss on their lips. Their eyes widen for a second before they close, placing their free hand on the small of your back to pull you closer to them. Your lips start to move together, the kiss deepening ever so slightly before the two of you pull apart. “I really like you, Sloan,” you repeat, your lips ghosting over theirs.

“Me too,” they whisper. “I mean, I really like you, too, [Y/N].”

“Do you have to go tomorrow?” You look up at them, admiring their features.

They shake their head. “I think my ribs hurt again. And my jaw.”

You laugh, pulling away from them just enough for the two of you to breathe. Their hand is still on your back, and you let go of their forearm, sliding your hand down to theirs instead. They lace your fingers together. You hesitate, worried of what their response will be, but you ask anyway. “Hey, Sloan?”

“Yeah?” They mumble their response, looking down at your hand in theirs.

“Who’s Rosetta?” Their eyes snap up.

“Do you want to meet her?” They don’t wait for a response, running back into their room. You hear a few things hit the floor, but before you can ask if they’re okay, they’re back in front of you, albeit out of breath. Cupped in their hands is a rock with some sort of purple crystal sticking out and googly eyes glued on the front. “Ta-da!” They flash a grin at you. “She’s so cute, right? I got worried that she was gonna get hurt when the Society sent her over. Sometimes her eyes fall off, but she’s all good!”

You feel a sense of relief, and your crush deepens just a bit. “She’s adorable,” you tell them. Their eyes are on Rosetta, cooing at her and making faces. “I’m glad she’s okay.”

[lucabyte]

On autonomy, and what it means to be Obliged to Help.

Bonus:

[spaceandbones]

Homicipher MC is very cool and groundbreaking for her trope subversion of "cute weak human mc thrust into a world of monster men" by being a serial killer and a vicious monsterous brute warped by a world she unknowingly made blood sacrifices to and I don't ever want to take away her autonomy BUT there is also something fascinating to me about the concept of her having No memory of killing people and No Idea why she even would in the first place

[cicadacelebration]

obsessed with whatever this thing is why is she like that

[97tears]

“Serge liked having control of gilbert” no he doesn’t That’s not true

[urlocallesbiabs-reblog-sideblog]

the last time reigen let dimple possess him, it was, well, — it felt fucking great, despite everything. standing in the eye of the storm, indestructible, fast, strong, agile, powerful, together; having entrusted him with reigen's useless old little body and gotten a 200% return on the investment! so what if he wanted to feel something at least a little bit like that again, if he missed the crowdedness under his skin? so what if he's been feeling kind of lonely lately, especially when off work, what with mob being busy, and himself not being all too close to tome-chan yet, and not letting himself get all too close to serizawa? so maybe reigen starts letting dimple possess him from time to time, just, casually. most of the time the possessions aren't even justified, but it's not weird if they don't talk about it. dimple enjoys being able to breathe, and says exactly that; reigen enjoys being together, and says nothing of it.

reigen never admits any of his reasons, obviously; neither does dimple admit that he deeply appreciates what reigen does for him. it's just a weird little thing that happens between them, largely unacknowledged, mentioned either not at all or through crude lighthearted jokes, with emotions welling in the whitespace between words.

over time, reigen gets his head out of his ass, and him and serizawa become good friends, best friends, boyfriends, even, and later move in together. the thing with dimple continues to happen because there's no real reason for it to stop, and frankly it's not like they ever discuss that; it just carries on. katsuya's been noticing for quite a while that Something has been happening, but he never felt like it's his place to ask, especially when it seemed so silent — nearly non-existent, despite being very real. well, whatever arataka chooses to do with his free time, right?

***

one night katsuya stays out drinking with his school friends a little later than he was expecting, and comes home a little drunker than he was going to. he finds arataka in the kitchen, chopping some vegetables, main lights off and over-the-counter lights dim and amber around his frame; he's so, so pretty, and katsuya hugs him from the back, reaching to try and place a kiss. arataka turns around, his face flashing a wide grin and very bright red cheeks. "oh hi," dimple says. katsuya backs off clumsily, and stammers, "ah, i'm so sorry! i was expecting arataka to be here, but it's you, ah-h-h, this is awkward, again i'm so sorry!"

"no big deal," dimple waves off, and turns back to chopping. "fyi, usually when i'm here, it doesn't mean reigen's not — i don't displace him, yanno? just hanging around in his head, it's like buddy time." he grins again. "right now he isn't, though: i'm just puppeteering the thing. he passed out on the couch waiting for you, and i thought y'all wouldn't appreciate not having shit to eat for breakfast. i'll whip up some stir-fry for tomorrow and dump this back where i found it for a good night's sleep, dw about it"

"ah," katsuya says eloquently, "thank you."

he doesn't leave the kitchen, still — changes positions, getting comfortable, leans on the counter, and watches dimple work. his quick movements, his(?) elegant hands, his concentrated expression, his(?) golden hair, his red cheeks. he looks so handsome like that.

"you look so handsome like this," katsuya says before his brain-to-mouth filter catches up to the rest of him.

dimple puts the knife down and stretches his(? arataka's?) hands out before him, admiring. "it's a beautiful body," he admits. it's not a grin, but smile, softer this time; private, even. "don't tell reigen i said that, but — i really enjoy this; being like this. not just the whole getting to be alive, running around and breathing and eating thing, though of course that too, but also — you know what i mean," he shifts a shoulder up. "possessing anyone is fun, but possessing reigen..." he runs one of his(?) hands down another of his(?) arms, lightly — almost reverently. "it's nice."

katsuya's breath hitches.

he's standing closer than he remembers being. arataka is so pretty like that, in this soft lighting; dimple is so pretty like that, in this soft body.

"i still want to kiss you," katsuya whispers.

dimple's breath, just for a flashing moment, hitches too; he wouldn't admit it. "go ahead," he says, louder than a whisper, but way quieter than his voice.

katsuya does.

it's not chaste and not desperate; gentle-slow and quick-curious, soft, warm, almost exactly the same as every kiss he'd had before, just like this, but so unlike them, and almost tangibly new.

it feels great.

"it feels great," dimple breathes. "it's been a long time, and i've kind of... forgotten what it's like. so i've always wondered how it would feel if i did it."

"you mean, kissing in general, or?..." katsuya makes a terrible, embarrassed pause. "...kissing me?"

dimple shrugs, and turns back to the cutting board again. chop-chop-chop! katsuya stares, maybe a bit dumbly.

***

katsuya wakes up in the middle of the night, slightly less drunk but significantly more disoriented, and stumbles towards bathroom, and gets arataka's phone flashlight shone right into his fucking face (and then quickly towards his feet with a bit-louder-than-necessary apology).

" 'm going to the bathroom", katsuya explains.

"ah, i'm just heading back. samesies moment!" arataka jokes.

katsuya buffers.

"i kissed your boyfriend last night and i'm so sorry!"

"...you are my boyfriend, tsuya," he raises an incredulous brow, and then a hand to brush at katsuya's forehead. "you alright, buddy?.. uh, do you mean you gave me a kiss while i was asleep? if so, it's fine, you shouldn't worry about little things like that-"

"no! i mean kinda yes? agh, i mean dimple-was-posessing-you-while-you-were-asleep-and-i-kissed-him-and-he-kissed-me-back-i'm-so-sorry!"

"ah yea he does that someti- you What? dimple WHAT? wait, did you just call dimple my BOYFRIEND?"

***

the conversation that ensues is horrible. not because anyone's fighting — no one is even angry, unless you count violent bafflement as a subtype of anger — but because a honest, serious, 3-way conversation regarding dimple, gayness, feelings, and gay feelings for dimple, by definition can not be not horrible. arataka takes a smoke break in the middle. (he quit 5 years ago, but a guy needs exceptions). katsuya feels the closest he's ever felt to a heart attack, and that's including all his previous life experiences. dimple grows out a weird little perfunctory foot to tap it in the air.

but they try their best, and they figure things out.

in the end, not much changes; they still don’t talk about too often, but now it feels more like comfortable lack of necessity rather than avoidance; they all just get it. and occasionally, dimple possesses arataka while he kisses katsuya, and oftentimes vice versa.

it's nice.

[wormthing]

frankenstein's creature is the world's most normal girl

[localfandom]

okay but i feel so bad abt the actual jimmy in adon : (

[mbat]

idk who this person is but i fuck with them

[infectedpaul]

when she gets worse >>>

[crunchchute]

me itching to post some cosplay pics i just found because i look good there but also fighting for my life to Not post them cause i dont want my face online

[4giorno]

im feeling so much in this trailblaze quest. first i was so impressed by caelus's VA's sob acting and next i got fucking obliterated by that jumpscare in the corridor

[todayisafridaynight]

making all of you read this cute arasawa fic right now about jo and ichi's tattoos this isn't a request it's a demand

[ruvi-muffin]

Slowly but surely "home" is starting to feel safe again

It's been nine years

[hiwelcometothemonstersancturary]

Wha?! I would NEVER feel guilty for any of this!

Writers should NOT feel guilty about:

Skipping a day of writing.

Not having a perfect first draft.

Partaking in sinister, arcane rituals for inspiration.

Working at their own pace.

Enlisting demons and/or helpful spirits to aid them with editing.

[chauvinist-without-a-cause]

Some customer had to have bought the box of jell-o pops that killed communism in the mind of Boris Yeltsin. What an artifact to pass out to the kids one afternoon