A little combination of stuff I fankid about :D Hope it makes you smile! Witchy stuff on sideblog @witchycuillere . Header photo by Philippe Donn.
I've been on here since may 2011, Yes I'm an adult.
Since I have so many fandoms, I thought I could make it easier for you to find the content you’re looking for!!!
It’s not perfect but my tagging system still works nicely :) Here are a few links for you to navigate through if you’re interested. Also, since I couldn’t decide on an order, I went with an alphabetical order for them ^^
Not all of my fandoms are listed here but those are the ones with most content, probably :)
Detroit : Become Human
Doctor Who
Dragon Age
Fantastic Beasts
Harry Potter
Marvel
Mass Effect
Merlin
Star wars
Teen Wolf
The Addams Family
The Good Place
Stargate
Esoteric ebb
Also, here are writing tips, drawing tips and positive stuff.
And prompts :)
You can ask for other stuff to be listed here/tagged, I’ll definitely consider it and probably put it in place :)
Also as a side note: feel free to ask me anything :)
RESOURCE for searching Tumblr, 'cause I'll need that again : This website from @sitesearch <3
Thank you, you've saved me.
Also https://findtags.tumblr.com/
Tossing and turning I awaken restless in the night. Head pounding, splitting right down the middle. That dream, its always that dream. I save everyone, but her. Its always her. Anxiety shoots through me like vicious venom, I frantically turn to her.
She's right there. Right there next to me, like always. The moonlight casts shadows off her that dance in my eyes. Her body is peaks and valleys I've explored thousands of times yet always find new places to leave a mark with my lips, my teeth.
She's right there. Right there next to me, like always. The anxiety leaves my body like an exorcism only she perform. I wrap my arms around her and pull her in, closer than usual.
Lonely Prince wandering the corridors knowing he’s not to be out at this hour but hoping that he runs into his knight patrolling the castle so he will be hauled back to his room where he knows he can convince his knight to stay with him
Stern Knight patrolling the corridors knowing exactly what his prince is doing and why but bound by loyalty to find the wretch and haul him back to his chamber anyway, because if the knight doesn't find him then something else might and the knight could never forgive himself
I know we make jokes about the proverbial asexual pervert who has written hundreds of thousands of words of smut on ao3, but also shoutout to the aces who aren’t perverts. to the aces who skip the sex scenes and wince at sex jokes and awkwardly leave the conversation when your friends start talking about sex. your boundaries aren’t childish and fuck anyone who says otherwise.
I know this makes me a Bad Socialist, but I can’t help but find it hilarious when two rawr-kill-the-bourgeoisie types get to talking and slowly come to realise that they’re setting the bar in very different places with respect to the definition of “bourgeois”. Like, one of them is talking about the direct exploitation of the working class, while the other means “anyone who lives in a house”.
The woman with a few designer purses is not your enemy
The surgeon who makes more in a month than you do in a year is not your enemy
The family that vacations for 2 weeks in the summer is not your enemy
Ceos, billionaires, politicians, factory owners, private prisons, weapons manufacturers, Elon musk, Peter theil, owners of islands and multiple private jets, Jeff bezos, these people are your enemy. They are the enemy of all the working class.
"why do you want to gossip with the girls?" why do i want to learn from the poets, the writers, the thinkers, the scientists, the mathematicians, the intuitive, and the philosophers? is that what you're asking me?
I've noticed in recent years that, at least within mainstream usamerican culture, the sympathetic petty criminal archetype has largely fallen out of favor. you still have plenty of stories of noble nights, benevolent aristocrats, sympathetic mercenaries, but the idea of a thief with a heart of gold is increasingly rare. often petty criminals are just used as uncomplicated cannon fodder, so the protagonist has something human-shaped that they can kill or mutilate without remorse. you see this with dnd players often. the wicked king or the cruel dragon can be reasoned with, but a highway bandit robbing caravans to eat is perfectly fine to torture to death with sorcery
this is no less common outside of fantasy, either. god knows how many books, films, games, about sympathetic soldiers, police, even mercenaries. sometimes they try to reckon with the inherent violence and cruelty of these careers, but they rarely have the fangs for a message sharper than "sometimes good people have to do bad things." but a thief? a mugger? god forbid, a drug dealer? uncomplicatedly evil vermin, all. again, just used as cannon fodder, purely to provide something human-shaped to hate and brutalize without conscience
there is an obvious racial angle to this, as people grow more leery towards "those people are evil and inhuman because they look different," the message shifts to "those people are evil and inhuman because they are criminals," paired with heavily biased (and significantly more publicized) criminalization of racial minorities to achieve the same goal of publicly condoned repression and violence
i cant believe that there's still gamergate STANK on games that women enjoy. NASTY misogyny residue. stardew valley is in fact a video game. animal crossing is also a video game. so are otome games and dating sims and twee little cozy games. sometimes a bitch doesnt wanna play bloodborne that shit's hard
guys who mainly play 2k and fortnite will still be like oh youre not a real gamer for having 1000 hours in stardew. mother fucker you're larping as a basketball player
The single most useful edit you can do before you send anything to anyone: Read it out loud. The whole thing. Every sentence. You will hear every place the rhythm breaks, every word that doesn't belong, every line of dialogue that no human being would actually say. Your eye skips over problems because it already knows what you meant to write. Your ear doesn't lie. It catches everything. It is embarrassing how much a single read-aloud will fix. Do it alone. Do it in a weird voice if it helps. just do it.
I call my knight to my chambers. He kneels before me as I lift up my embroidery project from my lap. I’ve finished it just in time, you see, for the tourney is set to begin tomorrow. I hold it up for him to see and show him every detail. It may not be the finest threading, but it is a symbol of my affection nonetheless.
“However, it is not yet finished. I’ve heard that ladies will douse their tokens in perfume or their bathwater. I, on the other hand, had something else in mind”
I lift his visor, making absolutely sure his eyes are on me. Then, I make a show of untucking my shirt, pulling the hem up high before tugging down my trousers. This plan has been on my mind all day, meaning my body is already showing its interest.
I free myself of the restraints of my pants, rubbing the length to bring it to its full hardness. My knight’s eyes dart between my face and the hand gently pulling the skin back to reveal my tip. Ever dutiful, he opens his mouth in anticipation. I coo at him, releasing myself to slide my fingers in his mouth.
“Oh darling, we won’t be doing that. Just get my hand wet for me, alright? Go on, spit.”
He works the digits as if they are the member he wishes to cherish, before I pull back and cup my palm. Now sufficiently wet, I return my hand and stroke in earnest. Back and forth. Back and forth. In front of him yet out of reach. His gauntlets creak from the way he balls his fists. He knows better than to reach for me without permission.
Soft moans drip from my tongue as the pleasure courses through my body. It is more difficult to reach the peak by my hand alone, and so he kneels at my feet and waits oh so patiently. I can hear him groan in his throat, mouth clamped shut.
“I hah know you wish to service me, but you must oh do well in the tourney to receive such a reward. mmh Prove yourself worthy to touch your prince. Should you win it outright, I will let you— oh by the stars — I will let you have your way with me. Do you wish to lie with your prince?”
The sound he makes shudders through my body. I smile, scooting forward and bringing the embroidered fabric up to his mouth. Without my needing to say a word, he opens and allows me to hold one corner with my thumb and the rest of my hand holds his jaw open. The sight is utterly beautiful. My personal favor falling out of his mouth while he looks up at me with dark, lustful eyes. With a flurry of praises for such an obedient knight, I aim for the fabric square to release myself upon it.
Most of it lands where I intended, but, lucky for him, the initial strand shoots across his face and into his mouth. A chuckle escapes through my groans. I sit and admire the sight for several seconds, watching it soak into material and drip down his nose.
“My dearest knight, you will fight for me tomorrow. If a lady is to offer you her favor, be polite and let her tie it around your arm, but this,” I take the damp square and try to clean him off with the dry parts, only managing to smear it across his cheek. “This is to be placed inside your armor. Place it upon your heart and fight for my honor.”
Consider overstimulating the prince. Perhaps with your hand. Perhaps with your mouth. Perhaps with your body, either inside him or taking him inside you.
Consider drawing it out. He’s given you permission to deny him his release until you say so. Work him slowly with a consistent pace until his gaze is fuzzy and he can’t string together a sentence.
Consider doing both. After an hour of teasing and bringing him right up to the edge only to leave him there, finally let him fall over it, and then drag him further beyond. The same consistent pace that once brought him pleasure now sends sparks shooting up his spine. His body will squirm in your hands, unsure whether it wants to lean into the sensation or run from it. He will say “please” but not even he knows what he’s asking for. More? Less? He can’t think through the haze, the only thing he knows is your touch and his trembling legs.
femsry comic commission for @/tamatama01121 on bsky and twitter ^///^ this is all i can show before it gets explicit (my previews are getting shorter and shorter)! you can read the rest on bsky 🦋 or twitter 🐦! idk how i got so lucky as to get the best commissioners in the world but kjsvdjjvsdnj 💙 tysm if you check it out! 💛🐶💚
I glance across the tournament pitch as I twist my hair up into a knot, removing one potential weakness from my person. The knight opposite me, stretching and warming up, is unfamiliar, but I believe I've seen their colours around Bloodhaven since arriving.
I let my eyes wander over them, seizing them up. He's somewhat slight in build, but tall, and it's clear that he has strength. Their own hair is just barely longer than mine, but they've tied it back in a simple tail. I try not to smirk. Rookie mistake, that.
My opponent catches me looking at them, and seems to startle, meeting my gaze with a surprised look. I wipe the smugness off my face and school my features into a much more appropriate smile, giving them a nod. He returns it, and I see his own eyes trace over me, giving me the same treatment. I stretch out where I'm sitting. Let them get a good, long look.
I was surprised to see Errant's name paired with theirs on the roster. I'd heard his name many times around the halls of Bloodhaven, but had yet to see the knight up close. His handsome features were all the more distracting.
Stop it Swithin, I admonish myself. You need to stay focused.
Errant stretched out nonchalantly, though his eyes were teasing. I couldn't help but trace my gaze along his body.
Stay focused on the fight.
I tore my eyes away and picked up my sword. The weight of it was comforting and it, at the very least, gave me something to focus on. I took a deep breath and turned towards Errant as he lifted his sword as well.
I keep my visor up when I put my helmet in place, double checking my sword before re-sheathing it and giving my neck a last stretch. The announcer calls our names as we enter the pitch. Ser Swithin, my opponent is called. The name rings a bell now, I’ve heard it around town as people discussed the upcoming tourney. An up-and-coming knight, apparently. Hungry for glory.
Well. Ser Swithin can get in line.
I extend a hand to shake as we meet at the centre of the pitch. “Good luck to you, Ser,” I say with an easy smile.
"Best luck to you as well, Sir Errant. I look forward to an invigorating fight." I settle my helmet on and back towards my starting point.
Niceties done, it is time to get serious. With his helmet on, Sir Errant is only an enemy now. There's no lovely face behind the visor, just a metal kit moving against me. I even my breathing and raise my sword.
I catch Swithin’s first blow just in time, caught a bit off guard by their immediate attack. Interesting. For one of their build, I would have expected a slower, more cautious approach.
“Easy, Ser Swithin,” I chuckle as I fight them off with a parry. “You’ll only tire yourself out.”
"You'll find my stamina is quite good." I spin away from an incoming blow.
Between my kit and the heat of the day I can already feel sweat gathering at the nape of my neck. If we weren't using swords I'd much rather have my helmet off.
“Is that something you train often?” I ask, letting my voice lean towards the suggestive. “Your stamina?”
It’s just enough to give Swithin pause, and I press the advantage with a series of blows. The knight catches them all admirably, but I could swear I hear a grunt of frustration from behind their visor, a rattling breath against the metal. I can see their eyes tracking me as I back off again, expecting a fresh attack.
As Errant moves back, I lunge. The move is a bit stupid I realize, too late. I had miscalculated the distance between us, especially as Errant slides back another step. I've over extended myself, and curse when I hit the ground.
I act on instinct, kicking the sword out of their hand and letting it clatter to the ground. Swithin reaches for it and I step on their hand. They’re wearing gauntlets, but the act draws a shout from them anyway, like their brain hasn’t realized it doesn’t actually hurt that badly.
I hold my blade with the point to their chest. “Do you yield, Ser?”
I glare up from dirt where you have me pinned. One stupid mistake and it's all over. My sword lays just out of my reach. It would be pathetic to yield now, but all of the fight has gone out of me. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How do you call yourself a knight? Pathetic.
I huff and roll myself, pushing off with my free hand. The sudden movement was just enough that Errant's boot let up on my hand just a bit. I grabbed for my fallen sword. When my gauntlet closed around it, I shifted into a crouch.
I grin so wide, I feel certain they'll be able to feel it through my helmet. "Good, I'd like to at least break a sweat before this is over."
I step back so Swithin can stand, and they regard me with a new intensity. It's only a beat before they attack again, and I meet them blow for blow, slipping into the dance of it all. They get up close, too close for the sword, and I can hear them breathing, short breaths of concentration. "Not bad, Ser," I say, and I mean it. "The more you fight back, the more fun it will be to knock you in the dirt again."
I press closer, the guards on our swords grinding together. "You're a chivalrous fighter, Sir Errant, but you'll need a bit more force than this to get me on my knees." I throw my weight into my shoulder in attempt to push you back and gain enough space to land a proper blow with my sword.
I bark a laugh, made bold by the rush of combat. "More force, is it?" Their blows are heavier now, a bit more genuine rage behind them. "How about this, then?"
I push the attack hard, getting a sense of Swithin's rhythm and waiting until I can see a high strike coming at me to duck down and target his legs. My weapon glances off their armour, but it's the kick that takes them down, their body crashing down atop me.
I use the weight of my opponent to roll us, deliberately dropping my sword in the process. When I right myself in a crouch, Ser Swithin is on their side and scrambling to launch themselves at me again. I move first, wrapping an arm around their neck and taking them back to the ground, their sword flailing wildly before I knock it out of their grasp.
"Son of a..." I hear Swithin hiss, scrabbling at my grip, but they go still when I draw my dagger and shove their visor up and out of the way, levelling the blade at their cheek without pressing. "Shit!"
"How about now?" I pant, blinking a drop of sweat from my eye. "Do you yield, Ser?"
Swithin is tense in my arms, and I can hear their shallow breathing, like they don't want to move in case even an exhale could cause the dagger to cut. Their cheeks have flushed pink, and while it could be from exertion, something about the way their pupils have dilated as they stare wide-eyed up at me tells me it's more than that. Interesting.
"I... I yield." They huff. "Damn it."
Their body goes slack when I stow the dagger, and Swithin takes my offered arm as we both clamber to our feet.
"Well-fought, Ser Swithin," I tell them, before leaning closer to speak softly. "Let me know if your stamina requires any additional exercise while we're here."
