Oh, and I can feel you
Even though I haven’t touched you
Yeah, that’s what love is
That’s what true love is
Wouldn’t want nobody else by my side
Ooh, and you can trust me
After all the lies I told you
Yeah, that’s what love is
That’s what true love is
Don’t nobody else deserve my time
I reach out to you
But my hands can’t hold enough
Enough of your greatness
You teach me patience
Like the best of our worlds collide
Never understood what it meant
It meant to submit to love
So beyond what lust is
Hey, it’s a blessing that you’re in my life
Make me look even better
When we shine, we shine together
Yeah, that’s what love is
Now, that’s what love is
Don’t nobody else deserve my eyes
I know what true love is
Yeah, down in my soul
Far more than you know
I appreciate you
God bless your maker
That’s what love is
That’s what love is
Look at this love
— Justin Bieber, That’s What Love Is
25 notes
·
View notes
A Certain 20th Anniversary
Hey guys, I'm back!
Alright, are you ready for me to make myself look awkward?
For those wondering, today (April 14, 2023) is the 20th anniversary of a certain TV show. One that mystifies and intrigues me, and horrifies others that aren't me. One with such a strange concept, that I just felt it was necessary to add lore to it.
Don't ask...
I've got nothing else to say. Let's begin...
I know what you might be thinking, 'oh dear, this is gonna give me SO MANY more nightmares!'
I can see where you're coming from, the siblings' appearances were (and still are) rather weird. Still, here they are now (with bios for each):
Fun Fact: If you're wondering what that thing is under Henry's pectorals, that's actually an opening. As the siblings grew older, they developed an extra layer of skin, making their fur pelts completely removable. However, the pelts still act as clothing, so the siblings prefer to keep their pelts on in public.
Fun Fact: All of the 5 Boohbah siblings have British accents (you know, because it's a British show?).
Fun Fact: The reason that Z keeps her hail in a pony tail is because when it's loose, her hair is a little out of control.
Fun Fact: The actor of Julian is the exact same actor who voiced Rokit in Mixels.
No, I am NOT kidding. Look it up.
Fun Fact: While at 1st glance, she may actually seem heavier than Z, Jane's weight is actually the same as Julian, it's just that she's a little shorter than him.
Yes, I created actual LORE out of this nonsensical concept.
For those who are upset, don't worry, I'm not planning for them to be recurring characters in my canon (mainly because it takes FOREVER to color them).
But for those who don't mind, I'm actually going to spend next week posting sketch/doodle pages for each sibling.
1 note
·
View note
i want to hold you (hostage) | rating: E
[graphic made using art by the wonderful user-null]
category: M/M | chapters: 4/4 | length: 21,700
[now with stunning fanart (nsft) by @deelavis]
listen to the corresponding playlist here
tags: alternate universe - canon divergence, mello POV, character study, mafia era mello, exes, unhealthy relationships, fantasizing, bondage, kidnapping fantasies, blow jobs, possessive sex, choking, degradation
summary:
Rico asks, casual, what Mello will want next, what he’ll aim for after he gets the notebook, and suddenly it’s like the ground has dropped out from underneath him, because the first thing that comes to mind is Near. His stomach sinks as he tries to regain some semblance of composure, fighting off imaginings both tender and cruel, furious with himself for being so weak-minded. Near, he thinks forcefully, is in the past. He isn’t an option for what’s to come— and even if he was, Mello wouldn’t want him.
(He wouldn’t.)
(He wouldn’t.)
(God. He can’t even convince himself anymore.)
50 notes
·
View notes
edit to add: it's because of this incredible fanart that i got this brainworm
no bc i need to talk about this, like i'm NOT DONE like bakugou as your next door neighbor !! since you were a child !! and it's a nice neighborhood and his parents seem well adjusted and have clean-cut professional jobs and hold dinner parties with your parents and they're always bringing something delicious for the neighborhood new year's get together.
BUT THEIR SON IS A LITTLE HELLION. the kid that had a mohawk in middle school and made fun of you for not using cuss words until you were like 13. and he's not a bad kid, bc he still is at the top of all his classes and never breaks the law or anything -- but he comes to school after his 16th birthday with a piercing through the middle of his lip and the clothes he wears are black and baggy and he drives an old beat up, cherry red shelby mustang and you're pretty sure he got the tattoo on his forearm before he was 18.
and your dad is like. absolutely not. don't even look at that boy. can't even be caught dead with him.
you've been neighbors for almost your entire life, but it's not like you're really friends. hung out together when there was no one else and your dad was too busy talking about the upcoming season for fishing and golfing to notice. your mom doesn't mind so much bc he's really not terrible, just a wicked little brat, and the week he started playing the drums, nobody in a five mile radius got any sleep. still blares music with open windows and turns it up even louder when you wave at him from across the lawn to shut up.
at graduation, he accepts his diploma -- summa cum laude, of course, the little shit -- and almost gets kicked off stage for sticking his tongue out in the picture. wears all this smudged liner under his eyes and gels his hair out at a million different angles. bc he's the WORST. and your parents try to throw a combined graduation party bc it's easier to plan, but of course bakugou could care less. doesn't even show up until the very end, after most of everyone is gone. counts all the money from the congrats grad! cards he got and then tells you,
"'m gettin' the fuck out of here after this."
you don't think he means the party.
"hate this shit," he grumbles, and you're surprised that he's even talking to you. in his backyard, in front of the beautifully built fire pit for those cold fall nights. it's still hot in june, but he lit it out of spite, bc he doesn't mind the heat. "never gonna be like these fuckin' losers, worried about what everyone else thinks of me 'n shit. oh the HOA will be upset if we decorate the lawn with skeletons, fuck you."
it makes you laugh--he kind of always does, with how crass he can be--and he looks at you, sitting in the wicker chair beside him. he looks like he's glowing in the fire light, liner looking even darker with the shadows on his face. he's traded the stud in his lip for a little hoop in his septum, another in his eyebrow almost hidden in his hair.
"know your ass is gonna stick around here," he says it like an accusation, frowning. "gonna fuckin'--look for some prince charming, tuxedo mask douchebag. shack up and buy a house in the hills or somethin'."
"maybe," you shrug, earning a scoff from him. now that high school is over, the future seems so--open ended. you thought you'd be prepared by now, after all that your parents have tried to instill in you since elementary school, but. you don't know. maybe you don't want to go to law school. "or maybe i'll--join a rock band. dye my hair pink and split my tongue, or something."
you stick your tongue out for emphasis and he watches you closely, sticking his own out in response. when you laugh again, he shuffles in his seat and looks away.
"whatever." bakugou snorts, "you don't know the first thing about bein' in a band. i'd have to teach you everything."
"oh, you think you could?"
"hell yeah," he grins, wicked, all sharp teeth and sin. "learn from the fuckin' master."
"oh my god," you roll your eyes, but smile at him anyway. his eyes dart down to the curve of your lips, the apple of your cheeks, and then he's looking away again. speaking into the fire instead.
"i mean i guess i could, if you wanted, or whatever." the only fully painted fingernail remaining on his left hand is his pinky, and he picks at with interest. "if you--wanna come with me, not like i give a shit."
you try to picture it, you and him. katsuki. in the passenger seat of his car with nothing but clothes in a backpack, money stuffed in your pockets. wherever he's going--you don't even know--but it couldn't be too bad, with him. stopping in a motel when the driving gets old, buying snacks to feed him so he doesn't have to take his eyes off the road. he could be there when you get your first tattoo, and even though he'd make fun of you no matter what you choose, you don't think there's anyone else you would want there but him.
"when are we leaving?" you ask it to the sky, open and unending. dark and dazzling just like him.
from the corner of your eye, you can see him look at you for a long time before he snorts again, soft. disappointed, almost, because he knows it could never be. your fate has already been sealed, molded, starting from the day you moved in next door, and no matter how much you'd love to throw caution to the wind and follow him--it's just a dream.
"first thing tomorrow," he murmurs, and your heart thumps harder in your chest. so violent that it hurts. when you look at him, his face is turned up to the sky, too. "don't be late."
451 notes
·
View notes