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i sort of want 2 post my art on tumblr again but at the same time im scared to ❤️
To fix BBC‘s Merlin you just have to make Merlin a pacifist or adopt a no-kill rule and have Morgana keep killing and stepping over corpses to achieve her goals.
shipping yhk not in a romantic or platonic way but a secret third way (⬛️⬛️)
i love the league of villains but as antagonists they could literally never even compare to akatsuki. i know the settings are different and naruto’s world is more brutal but like cmon. come on
a lie for your time chapter 5 is up! you can read it here <3
I fucking hate that Homestuck has so many little gems scattered in it's absolute hurricane of terribleness
Bc like. One second there's Dave Strider a traumatized kid who fronts as being super cool and uncaring and strong to make up for how small and weak his guardian makes him feel on a daily basis, and then when he actually gets the ability to be strong he immediately uses it to take care of his friends because at his core he's just a kid who cares about people and literally time travelled when he lost his first pair of shades that John gave him and does everything can to get them all out of it alive. He also has a sick fucking god tier design I'm sorry the gear timetables??? His whole thing is music and he uses time travel like rewinding a record shut UP THATS SO COOL
There's the class and aspect system that is actually remarkably interesting for analysis of character and what someone values and is willing to fight for. Rose being a light user but eventually succumbing to grimdark as a metaphor for her true purpose being a mediator between the two, Karkat being a knight of blood that tried his best to protect everyone with friendship instead of bloodshed, but this approach literally lead to half of his friends dying violent bloody deaths that he couldn't protect them from.
But then the universe is a fucking frog, and hundreds of people died bc it's genetics were fucked up because a bunch of 13 year olds were put in charge of it. And troll racism. And gamzee. And faygo?? And hate sex and buckets and selfcest and millions of different timelines and gamzee and murder and underutilized characters and just the worst dialogue ever etc etc
Like I could go on for literal hours about classpects and character analysis in this stupid series bc they're genuinely good and interesting but every time I see something actually from the comic my bubble of "this isn't that bad, actually!" Is popped and I and forced to slog through hundreds of pages of ableism and bad writing and stupidity and I'm TIRED😭
im going to vent abt 2 completely unrelated things in the tags now i wont give you context or anything and ill censor many words so dont bother reading plus im completely fine i just felt like complaining :*
compensation
hamzahthefantastic x reader
description: going against your wishes, your boyfriend decides to fight another match after spraining his wrist the last time he boxed. injured, he returns home to his girlfriend, who can't help but feel more than just "angry."
mentions: boxer!hamzah, bf!hamzah, angsttt, female reader, sub! hamzah, blood, bruises, nsfw!
GUYS IM SORRY I FORGOT TO POST THIS PLS DONT KILL ME
--
this was the first time that hamzah kept you in the dark, betraying your trust in him.
he was always a strong-willed, passionate boy; in fact, it was one of the things you found attractive in him. he kickstarted his youtube with his resilience and determination. giving up was simply not an option for him; one way or another, plan after plan, he'd get his goal even if it meant he had to cut off his limbs and sell them. if hamzah wanted something, he would get it, similar to a horse kicking whenever it's being restrained. though, normally, he knew when to stop pushing, especially when the cost was more than the benefit.
the last time hamzah boxed, his wrist fractured like a 6 year old cracks a wishbone. you, obviously, knew that getting hurt was apart of his hobby; you didn't like it, but you accepted that it was inevitable for some part of him to be banged up and broken. he allowed you to stay in the hospital with him during the time he was getting monitored, meaning that you were allowed to hear the doctor tell him that he had to wait 6 weeks to box again.
during the hospital visit, hamzah realized he had a match in exactly 5 weeks. you argued with him, telling him that there would be no way in hell that he'd be able to box until his wrist is fixed. of course, being as stubborn as a mule, hamzah argued back that he had to fight if his life depended on it. eventually, the night settled in as you laid in bed together that night, cuddling; he told you that you were right. reassuring you that he wouldn't be fighting, he kissed you goodnight. you thought you wouldn't have to worry about it anymore.
that was, until tonight, an hour after the match: when hamzah walked in the front door, bloody and bruised.
his eye began to swell, darkening around the indents of his skull. the black eye that adorned his face was accompanied by a deep gash that exposed the layer beneath his skin. he looked at you with guilt plastered in his banged up face, furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips being muted by the extent of his injuries. you didn't have to guess where he was: you felt betrayed by the fact that you knew exactly what he went out to do. alongside his injuries and deception, came a girlfriend who wasn't going to speak to him.
--
not a single word was said when you grabbed his other wrist and walked to the bathroom with him; the room was filled with silence and guilt radiating off of him. he was currently sitting on the toilet seat as you rummaged around the medicine cabinet for materials that would help you fix his wounds. though you were upset, you weren't going to leave him to tend to his own injuries; you were still his girlfriend, after all. sitting on the floor, you grabbed his wrist to check how worsened it became.
"baby-"
"no, hamzah."
from your previous arguments, you knew that hamzah has a habit of overloading you with pet names. he knew he fucked up; you know he fucked up. him starting his sentence with "baby" helped you realize that he knew he's in the doghouse.
taking the textured, cotton gauze, you began to wrap his wrist with a softness that foiled your emotions towards him. you felt his eyes trained on you like the aimbot of a video game; his gazed fixated on every single movement you made. he noticed the way that you still looked so pretty even when you were mad at him. the way your face looked, tensed and full of agitation, created a pool of guilt that he swam in. he hated making you upset, but he simply needed to box. it was passion. it was commitment. he had to do it; at least, that's what he was telling himself. however, no matter how much he told himself that he had to fight, he knew it was wrong of him to go against your wishes and back. he knew you wanted the best for him and his physical being.
"i'm sorry. i shouldn't have gone tonight. i was being stupid and i shouldn't have went behind your back like that."
you listened to him apologize, yet, didn't respond. in fact, you didn't even look at him. there was no acknowledgement of his apology; it was almost like it never even happened in the first place. he needed to know how truly upset you were. instead, you focused on wrapping his wrist with a second layer of gauze, to keep everything in place.
"baby, please. just talk to me- i don't care if you cuss me out or give me hell for betraying you like that, just- please talk to me," his mannerisms were tense and rushed, "how do i fix this? how do i get you to speak to me? i'll do anything- i swear- you want me to quit boxing completely? i will. you want me to do all the housework in this house? i will- i'll do every single chore. shit, if even just sitting in a corner for days with no food or water would get you to speak to me, i'd do that. please, baby- please."
you finished wrapping the gauze by the time he finished his speech about what he'd do to get you to speak to him. you began to touch his face, examining the bruise on his eye and cheekbone like a scientist looking through a microscope. suddenly, he grabbed you by the cheek, forcing you to look up at him.
"i'm sorry. please, just speak to me. i'll do anything. talk to me. i just wanna hear your voice."
listening to him yearn for your voice made you feel a certain type of way. yes, you were mad. however, in a way, this whole situation was turning you on. you hated to admit it, but your boyfriend looked attractive with a black eye and bruised cheekbone. the fact that he was begging for you to speak to him made the sexual tension you were feeling within you even worse. his submissive side was creating a potion of ecstasy in your stomach; you wanted to see how far he'd go.
you sighed, "i don't know anymore, hamzah. you told me you wouldn't. i trust you less."
"i know, pretty, i'm sorry. i'll earn it back, i promise. i shouldn't have gone tonight. i was being an idiot."
standing up as his face followed where your eyes were, you rubbed it against his open wound, earning a wince from him as he gripped onto your waist. butterflies emerged in your stomach, causing you to feel similar to how light a fairy is.
"thanks for the warning," he said with sarcasm and irritation laced in his voice, opening his eyes from the hard shut he indulged in
"you don't deserve one."
he pulled you onto his lap, causing you to straddle him on the toilet seat. taking your cheeks, he cupped your face in his hands and sighed. he looked at you with a level of submissiveness you haven't seen in him. normally, hamzah was the dominant one; yet, you didn't mind that the roles switched.
"what can i do to get you to not be mad at me?"
"i dunno. you're a smart boy," you grabbed his cheek and stroked it with your thumb, "figure it out, baby."
you saw a lightbulb flicker on in his eyes. he sensed the tension in the room wasn't only angry, but there was also sexual tension in its silver lining.
"you want me to make it up to you?"
you leaned towards his ear, now whispering, "how are you gonna do that, hamzah?"
you felt something poke at your ass from beneath you, a slight twitch emerging from it too. your words made him as hard as a rock.
that's so fucking hot.
"baby, i thought you were mad at me."
"oh, i am. trust me, i'm fucking pissed."
he kissed you on the cheek, "i'm sorry."
he kissed you on the jawline, "i'm sorry."
he kissed you on the lips, "i'm sorry."
moving down to your neck, he kissed it longer than the pecks he gave you previously. you felt a sucking motion, as well as his tongue swirling on your sweet spot, shortly after. your breath got heavier, almost as if your lungs were being weighed down by hot air. your lips parted as he sucked a dark spot onto your neck.
"i'm sorry, pretty girl. forgive me?"
"not yet."
his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "why not?"
"i need more than that."
"tell me what you need, pretty. i'll do it."
you leaned closer to his ear, kissing his neck and the area between, "you know what i want from you."
standing up from the toilet seat, your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you to your bedroom. your lips began to intertwine with his as he walked through the hallway, your tongues melting together like two lollipops on a hot day. he laid you down on the bed, still kissing you with everything he had; he needs you to forgive him.
letting go of your lips, he moved closer to the edge of the bed, taking off your shorts and leaving you in your underwear. feeling exposed in front of hamzah was always nerveracking in your own way; however, this time it was different. you knew hamzah had to please you, leaving you with a newfound confidence.
"are you okay with this?" he asked, exhibiting a level of care that you were all too familiar with.
"do whatever you want to me, hamzah."
taking your underwear off, you were left laying on top of your sheets in a tank top. his arms wrapped around your legs like a snake to its prey, prying your legs apart with a sense of desperation.
"you're so pretty like this baby," he kissed the inner part of your thigh, "you're so fucking pretty."
he spit on the area between your legs, earning a subtle gasp from you. his tongue began to lap on you, dropping saliva on the area of you that was already wet. between your legs, you felt the roughness and neediness of his tongue. his hands squeezed your inner thighs as pleasure began to unravel the metaphoric yarn located in your stomach. hamzah was eating the fuck out of you, leading to your moans getting louder and louder with each and every movement his tongue created against you.
his tongue produced a dance that only the both of you would know. some parts were as fast as light, while other ones were full of yearning and slowness; he knew exactly how to balance it for you to feel the best that you could feel.
your hands made its way to his hair, "you're so pretty like this, hamzah. my boy- my pretty boy."
his movements got faster as his grip against your thighs tightened even more, as if you were going to fly away if he let go. similar to his hands, you squeezed his hair as his movements quickened in pace; you could feel the yarn unraveling like a rubber band about to snap.
"f-fuck- hamzah, i'm close-"
he kissed your core, before his tongue sped to a pace you haven't felt before. you watched him eat you out like there was no tomorrow, leaving loud moans echoing the room, before he felt you release into his mouth. kissing it once again, he looked up at you as his hands massaged the pillows that he was in between. you looked at each other with love while he watched your heavy breathing and fucked-out expression.
"forgive me?"
"i forgive you. please go box someone else, baby."
confusion was apparent in his face, "what?"
"you're so fucking hot when you're bruised and yearning."
--
author's note!
this is so short omfg i hate using anatomical words for smut LOL more coming soon!
