loving both a dog motif and media about knights is perfect because it’s like fork found in kitchen……… yeees lead with unwavering loyalty….. yeeees let that fester into blind devotion…… undo his cuirass…. kill for him…. die for him…. sit…. roll over…
prince goswin is preparing for a banquet and calls upon his attending guard, a new knight to the castle, for assistance. when he meets sir pace, he gains more than just his opinion.
contains: m/m, prince x knight, sexually suggestive conversation, teasing, flirting, dom/sub dynamics, light exhibitionism/stripping, mild dubcon themes. 5 minutes total.
a peek at young goswin & pace's early relationship, before they became so entangled.
(transcript below)
GOSWIN: Guard!
[DOOR OPENS, CLOSES]
[ARMOURED FOOTSTEPS]
PACE: [MUFFLED BY HELM] Yes, my lord—? Whoa. Heaven hang me.
G: What’s your problem?
P: Sire… you are not wearing any clothes.
G: Untrue, I’m wearing my braies.
P: [LAUGHING] Braies are not clothes.
G: Tsh. Well if they’re not clothes, then what are they? Tools? Toys?
P: They are underclothes. They go underneath.
G: That has the word “clothes” right in it—are you arguing with me?
P: [MORE FORMAL] Uh, no, Your Highness. What is it you require of me?
G: I need help deciding on an outfit for the banquet tonight.
P: You… want me… to help you choose what to wear?
G: Yes. Why did you say it like that?
P: I… my lord, would this duty not be better fulfilled by a maid?
G: Oh, so you’re scandalised by the sight of me in my underclothes but you’d rather one of the maids see me undressed? Sure, much more appropriate, that. Good work, knight.
P: I only meant—
G: Are you not used to attending these types of silly functions yourself, being of your rank?
P: Not as a prince.
G: [CURIOUS] We have met before, haven’t we? I recognise your voice, but I don’t remember your name.
P: Sir Pace, my lord.
G: [CRACKING UP A LITTLE IN DISBELIEF] Sorry, Sir Piss?
P: [HEAVY SIGH] Sir Pace. P-A-C-E.
G: Ah, and he’s literate! Very good. What family do you come from, Sir Pace?
P: I am not a nobleman.
G: Really? A literate peasant. An orphan, then? Have you come from the monastery?
P: No, sire. My father was a leathersmith and my mother a weaver.
G: I see. Rose through the ranks from the bottom, did you? Got in as somebody’s page, earned the Crown’s affections somehow?
P: Aye, sire.
G: Hm. Was it my mother or my father who appointed you to the guard?
P: Twas the Queen.
G: Tsh. There’s a surprise. Hard to believe you weren’t specially assigned to guard her body.
P: I beg your pardon?
G: Beg all you like. [FABRIC RUSTLING] Well, weaver’s boy—blue or lavender?
P: [SIGH, PAUSE] Blue. It goes better with your complexion.
G: Does it now?
P: My previous assignment was to Dame Alina of Reidligne. She and her lady companions would talk about seasons of beauty. Harmonious palettes. I believe you’d be a winter. Do the blue.
G: [INTRIGUED] You are very very interesting, Sir Pace.
P: Um… thank you?
G: Accompany me tonight.
P: [AWKWARD CHUCKLE] You jest.
G: Not if you’ll actually do it.
P: I cannot, my lord. I have duty tonight. The guard is short-staffed.
G: Short-staffed? With the likes of you around? [SMALL CHUCKLE]
[PAUSE]
G: [SOUR] That bit was a jest. [PAUSE] Get it? Because you’re tall.
P: I understood, sire. Very amusing.
G: What is your assignment tonight?
P: Guarding the Great Hall.
G: And after the banquet?
P: I am posted on the north eastern turret.
G: Hm. Switch with Sir David.
P: …Why?
G: Because he is scheduled to be posted outside my chamber tonight.
[PAUSE]
P: I… I don’t…
G: You don’t what? Don’t want to follow a direct order?
P: Uh…
G: Serpent got your tongue, Sir Guard?
P: I will inform the Captain and Sir David of your request, my lord.
G: Mm. Good boy. Now, get going—unless you want to see me really undressed.
[HESITATION]
G: [CHUCKLE, UNDRESSING] You don’t seem in an awful hurry.
P: Um—good day, Your Highness.
[BOWS AND HURRIES OUT]
G: Very very interesting indeed. What a pretty man. Let’s see if I can make him cry.
Know that a knight is an animal. Each and every one. As long as that armor is on, and in some cases, even when it is off, rest assured that a knight is a beast.
They may be a hound, heeling readily to your hand, devoted without question and unrelenting in love, only pulling at their leash out of sheer excitement to carry out your noble will. They may be loyal to their own fault, as a hound knows it's place, takes it's honor in devotion, death is nothing compared to forsaking you, and they look it fearlessly in the eye, teeth bared. Those same eyes that see you with nothing but adoration, reverence, even, and those same teeth that would never so much as graze your perfect form, unless, of course, you command it. As any command from you may as well be a mandate from heaven, and thy will be undoubtedly done.
They may be a bird of prey. They may be still, and silent at your side, gaze pinned on the others, judging and nervous. Their helmet may be their hood, dark and comforting as it narrows their focus unto either you, those that may harm you, or those you have mandated be harmed, the only three things worth focusing on. They may resent the goings of royals, they may only be tethered by their own will, understanding that you provide them with easier opportunities to hunt, to feed, than would come from erranthood. And as such, they may be territorial, as you are the center of their hunting grounds, and they may not be keen on sharing. And you should not keep them from it, for the falconer balances a fickle bond on their blade's edge, but for better or worse, little will dislodge them from the nest of steel and satin they construct around you.
Or, worst of all, they may be a wolf. They may be a wild thing, scarcely bound by their oath, and moreso to their fellows. They will not heel to you, nor anyone else. They may return ragged and bloody, and refuse your hand. They may snap, growl, pace the halls on moonlit nights, stand hungry outside your quarters. They may kill without grace, guard you without decorum, pledge without honor. They may bristle as you reach for their battered steel, and one day, they may let you. They may let you, and they may let 𝘺𝘰𝘶. Not your crown, not your gold, and not your divine right, but you, and you alone.
The only armor against man's facade is the appearance of a human being. Clad in shape-dementing armor, a knight is an animal, just as man is without it.
The cruelest thing you can do to your knight is kiss their armor. You might think it’s cheeky to leave a peck on their helmet, but it’s only torture- a reminder of the separation between you two. Despite how it may seem, their armor is not a part of them. They are not bug nor beast but weak flesh shelled by steel. It is a barrier which nothing passes through. They cannot feel your caress, no matter how much they lean into it. Do not waste your warmth on cold metal. Do not tease them any longer.
fantasy world where duty-bound servants must be caught and tamed, rather than raised.
knights are herd creatures found in large packs, grazing in wide-open fields far outside of kingdom walls. identifiable by their shiny exoskeleton, they are highly territorial towards outsiders, but show remarkable intelligence when paired. young princelings are often assigned to track down and capture a lone knight as a coming-of-age ritual.
wild knights are often stubborn, wily, and unreceptive to the laws of their new owner. it’s the duty of a prince to train them well— a process that can take several years— as a show that they are suited to rule over the minds of many.
there is something quite inherently exhibitionist about sparring with any of my knights out in the yard. every set of eyes that can see our fight is watching, raptorlike and predatory, eager to see their prince fight. how could they possibly ignore us? they'll stop and watch and we'll be helpless but to put on a good show for them.
the questions are thick in the air. will you best me? put your Prince on his back in the dirt? will you make our audience's hands clench, creaking leather impotently around their sword-hilts if you dare make a mark on me? would they wish they had your audacity, hope to be atop me in the mud?
or will they watch, aroused, as i take all that power and skill, and drive you back anyway? get all hot and bothered and wish they were in your position? try not to shift all flushing and swollen beneath their armor as i tip your chin up with my sword?
(available as stickers via patreon through september 2025)
[ID: Digital illustration of a nude trans masculine person, cropped from thigh to neck. They are posed head on, one hand resting on the strap of a black leather strap-on harness. The other hand is holding the hilt of a sword, pointing down. They have top surgery scars, body hair, and a bandaid on their thigh for their T-shot. They are framed in thorny vines, with some 6 pointed stars around them. The background and figure are both a ochre yellow, with black lineart offset by red. /. End ID]
computer show me really toned forearms. puter show me strong, slender hands gripping the hilt of a sword. show me bloodied hands littered in scars holding their lovers like they are delicate and precious. show me a knight becoming undone due to the calloused hands of their brother in arms. computer can you hear me
genuine question do you know of places where to find images of normal people for art reference/practice ?
Not pretty people. Genuine photos of normal every day unattractive or old or everyday people. Because we see pretty people as references all the time. Young people. In media. In art.
But I want to learn how to draw like, average people. Hell, I want to learn how to draw UGLY people better. I want to make beautiful images of kinds of people we don't see represented a lot.
So.... If you know - please reblog. Add information here.
Boost for a bigger reach.
![[NSFW] Knight — Blade](https://64.media.tumblr.com/e884f75566bdd9934de92169fc402999/430472fd7440283b-d3/s500x750/cb4d0f282a8b63796947813f68906b952acbde66.png)
