Christina Bindon

All right, Ubiquitous Anxiety Chips, I bet a cool ten grand on you, so don’t let me down!

[Image ID Twitter screenshot that reads “Your Kentucky Derby horse name is: a symptom of one of your mental illnesses + the last thing you ate”. End ID]

I’m soooooo embarrassed. My lord told me “good night,” but I thought he was calling me a good knight, and, well, you could hear it clink against my codpiece.

It's legit so unnatural to read! People were illiterate for almost all of human existence! Literacy is a new phenomenon! It reshapes your brain and makes you worse at recognizing faces! Scary af! You need to be way more mindful about it! Don't just read every street sign you see! Kick your reading addiction and embrace a more natural lifestyle! Spend your time masturbating to drawings of furries instead!

who else is up permanently feeling like they did something Wrong

listen, if Henry and Hans were fucking the entire siege of Suchdol, they'd be better fed than everyone else. Just sayin'

Henry finds Hans in the loft of the stablemaster in Suchdol's outer bailey, perched on the foot of the modest bed, waiting. He smiles at the bare chest before him, leaner than it was at the beginning of the siege. Afternoon light cuts through the small window of ventilation above, haloing Hans' right shoulder, and surrounding it with dancing motes. Small freckles and warm colour cover his once pale and noble skin the longer they remain under siege. Heavy clothing begets sweat, begets weight loss, and every bit helps to survive. Trim lines carve dips and trenches where there used to be the soft flesh of a well-fed Lord. It is intoxicating in it's own way, to see the real shape of a man, but also because Henry knows that while everyone else in this fortress starves more by the day, himself and his Lord fare much better in secret. "Come for lunch, dear squire?" "I am feeling quite hungry, my Lord."