Dollface

back to work again tomorrow...

NOOOOOOOOO 💔💔💔💔

Rick Sanchez definitely tastes like whiskey, tragedy, and divinity. He probably kisses you like he needs your oxygen, like you’re the IV tube keeping him alive.

oh you are absolutely too hard on yourself! there's beauty in our differences and whatever you come up with, whether it is like something i would write or not, i am sure i am going to love it regardless! on the contrary, it would be boring if all of our writing looked the same!!! i'm excited to see your work and your own style :D <3

it is absolutely essential to have friends you can have extremely insane pervert conversations with. this is kind of what makes life worth living

article by Jed Olsen

Neliel with no mask

TW: angst, mentions of smut, addiction

Kisuke and the reader have a friends with benefits type of deal going on

You never slept well in someone else's bed. Especially not Kisuke's. He always kept his room freezing, making it all the harder for you to sleep through the night. You woke up again and again, shivering, pulling his sheets tighter around yourself, though it was futile.

The sun had just begun to rise when you woke again, still trembling, aches rattling in your hips and core. You shuffled and tossed as gently and quietly as possible, trying to find a more comfortable position to see if you could squeeze in just a little more sleep.

Kisuke stirred next to you, causing you to tense up and freeze. With your back turned, you couldn't see him, but sensed his movement, heard his tired sigh as he sat up and fumbled around for something. Then, there was more weight, more warmth, added to your body as he pulled another layer of blanket over your shivering form.

He breathed another sleepy sigh before stilling once more, so easily whisked back into his slumber. You pulled the new blanket up a little higher, shutting your eyes more contentedly, though you still couldn't drift off so easily, not with your mind already planning out your escape, calculating where your various clothes were scattered and how you were going to put them on and gather your keys as quietly as possible, how you were going to slip out without having to face him, without having to see what he looked like with the early light pouring in through his window.

You could hardly sleep again, not with how loud your mind was and how you wished for the safety of your own bed. You creeped out from under the covers, wincing and freezing when the bed creaked under you. After confirming that Kisuke was still sleeping, you kept moving, tip toeing along the floor as you pulled your panties back up, clipped your bra on, threw your clothes back over your drained figure. You clenched your keys tightly off of his bedside desk, careful not to let them jingle.

It was about to be a success as you headed for the door, ready to slip out into the morning without a trace.

But then he called your name, his voice hoarse with exhaustion, not asking for you, demanding you. You reluctantly turned to face him, laying on his back with his chest exposed, staring at you with an intensity that made your chest burn.

"Why are you always running from me?" Kisuke asked, keeping his voice level, no hint of what emotion hid behind his question.

"I'm not running." You stood like a deer in headlights. You were running, just not fast enough, and now you were going to get hit.

"You're sneaking out," he observed, tucking his hands behind his head. "You always do."

You never expected him to say anything about it. It wasn't the first time you'd been caught, but it was the first time he was calling you out. It made your cheeks burn with embarrassment, to be seen by him in this way. Why now?

"Sorry," was all you could manage.

"I was inside you last night," he reminded you.

"What is this?" You asked him, clutching your keys tighter.

"I'm just curious," he said, his lips pulling into a grin. Just like that, his wall was back up, the easygoing, nonchalant facade. "Go on. I won't hold you up any longer."

Your mind, body, and heart were at war. A sudden wave of sadness pummeled you, and you knew you had to get out quickly. You weren't going to cry in front of him, especially not when he had that stupidly handsome grin on his face.

So you ran without looking back, an emptiness rapidly expanding in your chest. You knew what this was - an addiction, a poison, like any other drug, a bad habit you couldn't quit. You clung to the little joys and pleasures - the names he called you when he was inside of you, the innocent kisses he peppered along your nose and forehead, the demand that you look him in the eye when you took him in your mouth or when he took you in his, the promise, when you came, that you were his. My girl. Mine. You replayed those moments in your head over and over again until they weren't enough, until you needed more again, another dose. And then, like any high, there was always the crash - like right now. Anxiety, sadness, numbness, and the cold. It was always so cold.

When you were in the confines of your car, you sobbed, clutching at your chest, wishing you were anybody but yourself. Maybe if you had just a little more love for yourself, a little more backbone, a little more respect, you wouldn't run. You'd demand affection, you'd demand warmth, and if you didn't receive it, you'd leave and never come back. You'd ask for more blankets instead of shivering violently to the point where you couldn't sleep. Maybe you'd even curl up against him. You'd touch him and let him touch you without it having to be sexual because yes, you were inside me.

I was inside you last night. It was incomplete. Where was the rest of what he wanted to say? I was inside you last night, and now you can hardly look at me? You can't stay longer? You can't even wake me up to tell me goodbye?

It made you cry angry tears now, cycling through the stages of grief all in one morning. How could he expect you not to run? He always noticed how cold you were too late. If only he had pulled you into his embrace instead of turning away, or give you clothing of his to stay warm. If only he had just made it clear that he wanted you to stay, that you weren't a burden or just a body taking up extra space in his bed. You may have been running, but he sure as hell wasn't doing much of anything to chase after you.

You had your own sentence to complete. You were inside me, and now you can't even hold me?! You can't even ask if I'm warm enough?! If I'm okay?!

Alone again, you piled on as many blankets as you wanted. You dried your tears and you caught up on the sleep you missed when you were too afraid of how big your heart was and too afraid that he would hear it beat for him. You ignored the biggest fear of all, that you'd never stop running, that it would always end in this way, with you, alone.

A/N: woke up cold, sore, and not in my own bed this morning + can't stop thinking about Kisuke, and what do ya know, it inspired me to write this !!! i'm a BIG irish exit girly, for better or worse :') (probs worse). i'm also extremely passive and avoidant, all this to say, this is definitely a personal piece. i promise im fine !! im much happier than i used to be, but alas, healing isn't linear and sometimes those bad habits like to creep back in.

to anyone who feels like they're alone, who feels like their heart's too big for this world and their passion too loud, i promise you, you're not alone, and please don't ever stop being the beacon of love and light that you are. take care of yourself. set boundaries. be vulnerable. be LOVE

<333

❄️

Shinji Hirako Cosplay

Shinji and Momo as a cat and a hamster 🐱🐹

Momo's face always reminded me of a cute hamster 🥺

A Shinji piece from 2021 I never got around to finishing :)

(Can you spot the very tiny Vizard mask on the spoon in the teacup?)

*Please do not repost without giving credit to the artist!*

Illustrated by I. Tanvir (@tanviriillustration)

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