my dealer: got some straight gas. this strain is called "honorable knight" youll be zonked out of your gourd
me: yeah whatever. i dont feel shit
5 minutes later: only in death does duty end
my buddy pacing: i am the sword and the hand that wields it
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Cosmic Funnies
Xuebing Du
noise dept.

shark vs the universe

roma★
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
🪼
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Peter Solarz
DEAR READER
occasionally subtle
h
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Mike Driver
wallacepolsom

$LAYYYTER

cherry valley forever
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@whumpster-diver
my dealer: got some straight gas. this strain is called "honorable knight" youll be zonked out of your gourd
me: yeah whatever. i dont feel shit
5 minutes later: only in death does duty end
my buddy pacing: i am the sword and the hand that wields it

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When will a sopping wet haggard knight show up at my doorstep needing to be taken care of #justprincessthings
Have you tried just channeling your instincts to appease into BDSM instead of letting them inform your political philosophy?
If you really just have a deeply ingrained need to be in a hierarchical space and give respect to ppl u call ur superiors, like. Hi. We can do that for you. I know some people.
if you really want to lick boots we can make that happen but with better boots
We have flavored boot polish.
And snacks for after.
And snacks for after!
some of you didn’t spend roadtrips as a kid in the backseat gazing desolately out the window while drip-feeding yourself droplets from a water bottle and pretending you were a wounded knight being carted back from the scene of battle while bleeding furiously from your wounds. and brother does it show
Jousting at the festival to impress your lady love!!!

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your twenties are Also about discovering that you’re not a bad person in all the ways you believed you were but you’re a bad person in completely new and exciting ways
Every year, hundreds of knights unwittingly acquire cursed swords. Most lieges do not notice until it's too late.
Symptoms of cursed sword possession include:
- Uncharacteristic bloodthirst.
- Mood swings.
- Whispering to the sword when they think you aren't looking.
- A tendency to stand in gloomy corners.
- Skin rashes.
If you suspect your knight has a cursed sword, take them to the local mystic or priest as soon as possible. Immediate action saves lives.
WARNING: Do not try to remove the sword yourself unless you are a certified professional. Cursed swords are known to cause their hosts to lash out unless the proper precautions are taken. Your knight may accidentally injure you and spiral out of guilt.
haha dude that was an excellent knight kink post. you know you don't have to be useful to be worthy of love, right?
once a year the princess should be allowed to lead a siege and cause an absolute fucking bloodbath and be the one crawling back with a cracked-tooth grin, trembling with fleeting satisfaction, drenched in a cold sweat of guilt
Okay so. Bleeding out in the snow, barely conscious right? Yeah so. While I do love the moment you're found by someone, and they rush to your side and frantically work to heal you... But isn't there just something else about being found by someone who leisurely walks to your body? They crouch down by your side. Cooing and stroking your hair. My, what a mess you've got yourself into. There's a soft smile on their lips. Like they're death themself come to guide you to the afterlife. Is this anything.
Possessing shivers were the only movement the knight could make, the body's last ditch to warm itself and the malfunction of the muscles as it began to fail. The knight fought to keep her eyes open, well-aware that if she let them drift closed, she may not have strength enough to lift them again. The end beckoned like sleep, soft and warm, but she could not welcome it, not yet.
The seige persisted, and so must she.
Her lady's camp was not far, and the archer that struck her down with the arrow now whistling against the breeze from its home in her belly wouldn't be, either. An assassin sent to intercept the knight on her way to her ladyship, the knight is certain; no one else could have known her route through the woods. A spy.
She had to warn her lady, had to protect her. But the arrow had buried too deep, torn too gravely, spilled too much blood. The red trail through the snow was a painted testament to her perseverance, but the body is a finite animal, and it can only take so much before it collapses. So there she lay, praying to any god that would deign an ear for a rescue.
Her party had split up not far back. Surely one of them would find her, one of their keen sets of eyes would see red and follow.
The cold bit into her like a badger finding her already dead. Sometime ago, a slow drift of fat twirling snowflakes had begun to fall, and as they kissed her freezing skin where it peeked from her frosting armour, stinging her face freed from her helm paces back, all she could think was how it would soon obscure her tracks and her only chance at salvation.
Her hope was leaving with the last dredges of her body heat, but she could not bring herself to give in. A warrior's instinct as ingrained in her as that oldest human will to live: she had to keep her pledge.
Through lashes heavy with exhaust, a shadow broke from the trees. The knight fought to focus her eyes, the reins slipping. A familiar shape, trailing a fur-lined cape and hood, clinking softly as it neared, metal and glass tinkling against each other.
The party's healer.
The knight would have wept if she'd had any tears to give up. She could barely croak out their name as they approached, but still she twitched a smile. The healer's boots punched out a slow measured march through the crisping snow, no hurry in the rhythm.
They tutted in their usual fashion and toed at the knight's leg when they got close enough, the way they would when they found their party members poisoned or paralysed or slashed and battered in a heap on the ground after taking on some foolish risk. Their eyes were bright with amusement.
"Oh, dear sir knight," they crooned. They gave a lightly scolding shake of their head as they bent at the knight's side and inspected the scarlet puncture in her chainmail swallowing the arrow shaft. "What a mess you've gotten yourself into."
"No time," gasped the knight. She found she could no longer focus her eyes quite right and the healer's image was slipping from her, blurring so intensely she could not make out the tool in their hand or meet their eye as they watched her. "Our lady... there is danger. Set me right."
The healer put out a hand, but not to the wound, not to gesture and incant with. Their fingers carded into the knight's hair instead. They had teased at her hair countless times when she was splayed out, injured and helmless, saying it was a shame she kept it under a silly metal cage all the time when it was so pretty.
It was by then drenched with melted snow and cold sweat. The healer's mouth curled into an easy smile and they did not answer or heed the knight's order.
"No games. Please, I beg, I must go."
"Yes," murmured the healer as they slipped their hand from the knight's hair to their cheek, rubbing a soothing thumb across their frigid skin. Even their tempered warmth seared like a glowing iron. "You must."
Confusion broke to disbelief and then to despair across the knight's face. That was the other jab the healer always took with the knight—without that armour of yours, you can't hide a single thing.
The knight used all she could muster to lift her head and squint at what they healer was toting. She could barely fight down the convulsive cough that took her when she saw it.
A quiver, near-to full, the fletchings identical to the one decorating the arrow in her stomach.
Looking closer at her companion—the person who had so many times wrenched her back from the brink of death, whose arms would drag her helpless form to safety and whose hands knew so well the stain of her blood, her friend—the knight saw the string of a bow across her chest and the end of its wooden body sticking out behind her hood.
"No," the knight pleaded. Her shivering turned to violently spasms and she shook her head, movements shallow and wild. "No, not you—"
"I always liked you," whispered the healer, their voice like a lullaby as the knight's vision began to edge with black. "Admired you, even. I used to revere your relentless hope in her, our lady. You made me believe she could truly lead us into peace and prosperity. But you've seen how that's gone, how much suffering and how many lives lost rest on her shoulders. It's too late. Something must be done."
"Please..." the knight chattered, more air than word.
"Relax, my friend. Lay still."
The healer stood as the knight tensed and hacked. A hot trickle warmed her chin and her mouth filled with copper. She struggled to follow, to push up and grab at the healer, but her limbs did not respond. She could no longer feel them.
The hands that slung the quiver back over their shoulder were as clean as the fresh-fallen snow, and after another moment of quiet observation, the healer stepped away.
"It will all be over soon."

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I should probably do something about my liege lord’s cursed amulet but he’s just so hot when he’s evil. Also he kisses better
Trying to torture my nemesis to death but it is rapidly becoming apparent that my bumbling yet perverted assistant has once again somehow mixed up the labels on my two identical vats of bubbling green acid, one of which only dissolves clothing.
Frankly beginning to wonder why we even have these.
"girl dinner" "boy kibble" can y'all just eat a meal gender neutrally
gender neutrients
on my "don't walk to metlife" post I kept seeing people say that drivers would "bergentruck" pedestrians on the turnpike and it turns out that that's a reference to an Undertale meme where a character purposefully runs over people, but the portion of the jersey turnpike that goes to metlife is bergen county, and I had just instantly accepted that there was a term specifically referring to jersey drivers from there. I didn't even question it. Neither would you, if you had ever driven there.
posters: if you try to walk on the jersey turnpike they will bergentruck you without hesitation.
me, unfamiliar with undertale memes, but familiar with driving through north jersey: fuckin yeah they will.
People on the internet love to criticize work by Some Guy with zero institutional power like it's made by Disney Studios, and talk about Disney movies like they're made by their personal friend Amy, who is just trying her best,

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when i grow up i wanna be a dandelion
What if I was so exhausted from battle I cannot think properly.... and what if the only goal was to get back to you.... and what if once I reached you to make sure you're okay, I pass out in your lap and you'd take off my helmet and pet my hair, telling me how well I did.... what then