#the greatest indulgences

[keymintt]

they say it wasn't humans who found the lost dutchman's gold

(another set of traffic box illustrations!!)

[teardropwolf]

A Wilson doodle for these trying times

[stromer]

holtzy, your swag too different! ✧ devils vs hawks 1.05.24

[moeblob]

They're soulmates in every single universe and I miss them at the most random times.

[brianharoldbae]

watching “choose love” literally felt like reading the most gratuitous, most trope-y self-insert wattpad fanfic and i loved every second of it

[canisalbus]

Followed u on twitter before I saw that u had a tumblr it was such a pleasant surprise to be able to read all the dog lore. Your love for Machete and Vasco is so infectious I love these little guys!!

That's so nice to hear! Yeah, twitter is an art only space, this is where I come to act unabashedly rabid about them.

[yandere-daydreams]

They’re like modernising the outfits for natlan, meanwhile every other region has had more or less a historical or fantasy elements within their outfits if that makes sense 😭 and then they come in and give a guy ripped jeans like please 😭 I know he would have ate if he was a fontaine or like monsdate character, I know damn well that if diluc was realeased now instead when he was they probably would have done the same tragedy to him and given him emo ripped jeans and some weird hoodie too I just feel it in my pinky toe

i think part of the problem is that genshin is actually pretty good at designing characters who, even if they don't always look good, look like they belong in the same world T-T natlan's definitely more modern than other nations we've seen so far, but i think they've been doing a pretty good job of balancing that with the fantasy elements up until ororon. i'm hoping he's,,, like,,, the breaking point and we'll be seeing more xilonen adjacent designs, which incorporate modern elements while still blending in pretty well with the fantasy setting. or just people who look like they could exist for any amount of time in south america prior to the invention of ac in general.

[wrongcaitlyn]

i sent this to @wronghuntress earlier but just decided i should share this here too bc i've been having a very specific tyt scenario in my head all day

kayla posts a tiktok to please please please at the "i beg you don't embarrass me motherfucker" with the caption of "me when introducing literally anyone to my brother's friends"

and then nico duets it with like half his face showing with the caption "what does this mean kayla phoebe knowles"

and yes i did literally come up with her middle name just for this specific scenario

[astrum-aetherium]

Henry giving you a locket and you putting a pic you took of him in it *cough cough no idea where that came from yet again cough cough, the delusions cough*

-sun

this is the most tender thing ever. he would definitely be into spoiling his partner, as we've already established on numerous occasions on this blog, and giving you something as elegant and valuable as jewelry would certainly be a preference of his. the locket could be gifted to you on any occasion, perhaps even for no reason at all, but definitely nonchalantly — he would casually hand you the box one day without sparing you as much as one single word, or it would simply turn up on your doorstep in a small gift bag one day.

it would be vintage and ornate, quite expensive — as you'd imagine — and, not to mention, entirely gorgeous. however, to add even more definition and value to it, you would take one of the very few pictures of henry you would have and fasten it into the locket. carrying him so closely to your heart would cause you to warm up and bloom inside, but also thrill you — the secret of your locket's contents would be yours and yours alone.

initially, he wouldn't know — he'd only flash you the most clandestine and smallest of smiles upon seeing you proudly wearing his gift. on the inside, we can be sure of things like this pleasing him greatly. you wearing something he gave you as a present? well, that would be emotionally rewarding enough.

on one special night, however, whilst snugly planted in his lap and tenderly throbbing against his growing hardness beneath you, you'd innocently pull back from a heated kiss and grin, mentioning, "i need to show you something." of course, he'd be caught off-guard at first, but nevertheless remain quite curious. with your chest fluttering, you'd catch the locket hung around your neck with your fingers, and spread it open for him, showing henry what's hidden within — who is hidden within.

although he wouldn't exactly rejoice nor give you any sort of profound reaction, you'd know him to appreciate it greatly. this, at the very least, would be proven by the fact he would have you completely naked — save for the locket — and unbelievably wet for him in no time, pressing your thighs back into yourself as he'd gently and tenderly thrust in and out of you in slightly modified missionary. he'd pay special attention to kissing your neck — marking it, even — and breathing so desperately you'd fear an i love you might slip from his parted, flushed lips.

[hwsforeignrelations]

on the importance of rest

Word Count: 2,814 // AO3 Link

Summary: Following a long meeting between American and English naval leaders, Arthur notices the nation across the table appears unwell and resolves to help. Massages, flirting and tenderness ensues. ********

1910

“Thank you for finding the time, Admiral Wilson. It is a pleasure to finally meet you,” smiled U.S. navy’s Admiral Fredrick Dent Grant, extending his hand to the British Admiral of the Fleet Sir Arthur Wilson.

“Good afternoon, Admiral Grant. The pleasure is mine,” the two men exchanged hands and dove into discussion, behind them a brunette secretary recording away on her glossy typewriter.

Alfred F. Jones, seated amongst other present American navy officers, took a moment to appreciate both men’s impressive mustaches. Beams of light from the wide window caught the shine of petroleum jelly holding Grant’s delicately curved handlebar. The observation was enough to distract him from the fatigue of travel and the sore knots in his shoulder and back that forced his body into a rightward slant. 

An enormous portrait of Lord Horatio Nelson watched over the proceedings from his place on the wall. Every so often, Alfred watched Arthur’s gaze return to the painting, a look on the Englishman’s sharp face Alfred couldn’t name.

The nation looked very well, glowing with the health and energy of his absurdly massive empire. His perfect posture, steely green gaze, and sharp angles made him the most interesting man in the room (in Alfred’s opinion), and he had to avoid staring too long else the other took notice. 

Arthur didn’t need any grander of an ego.

The Admirality’s House in London was always a sight. Artifacts from Arthur’s prized naval victories; every room bathed in abundant natural light from tall, glittering windows shielded by artfully pleated curtains, warm wood tones, intricate engravings, expensive carpets and furniture and, most importantly, the feeling of great importance. 

Everyone in that room, uniforms fresh and starched, buttons and shoes polished to a shine, chin high, felt very important. 

Alfred would too, if he didn’t feel like he’d been run over by an ocean liner and backed over by a tugboat. A twinge in his lower back jolted Alfred straight, and Alfred forced himself to pay attention, trying to ignore what felt like an oncoming spasm,

“... prudent cooperation, Germany’s (amongst others) naval expansion shifts the strategic landscape…” Wilson’s rounded accent droned on, and Alfred soon gave up. How did anyone pay attention to these things?

 It astounded Alfred, that so much intel, responsible for the functioning of militaries, could be so unengaging. Much as he liked to imagine otherwise, it was difficult not hanging onto every word spoken in that crisp London accent. Yet these meetings, unless an argument broke out, managed the impossible.

Rather than listening, he instead decided to address the issue, subtly stretching out the tight muscles. Grabbing his left upper arm, mindful of the stiff stitches in his brand new uniform, Alfred pulled it forward, breathing through the screaming of his deltoid. Conversation droned on and on, after ten minutes of very small tugs the pull no longer made him want to scream. God was he tired. The trip across the Atlantic had been very last minute.

After receiving the telegram from his cabin in Minnesota, during a brief rest of the week’s non-stop days firewood chopping for the nearby town, the American had made a hurried drive to DC, scrambled for two all-nighters over a desk to complete overdue work, then staggered onto the RMS Olympic amongst other Navy personnel. 

Four days of continuous elbow-rubbing, formal dancing, excellent evening company from the young women aboard, smoke-room chatter and very little sleep in between was enough to sap even Alfred’s infinite extroversion. 

He was about ready to drop, and could feel the exhaustion making his neck and face hot beneath the starched uniform, causing his glasses to fog.

_____________________

Arthur listened idly to the admirals waxing diplomacy, looking between Nelson’s proud portrait, the speakers, and Alfred’s worrying behavior. The lad looked half dead, making feverish motions at his arm, albeit subtle. 

But oh, the way the honey-blond hair refused to remain in its gelled prison, the handsome curves of his cheekbones and jaw, the touch of maturity from the lenses balanced over his nose, the broadness of his shoulders beneath the stiff uniform… It would be ridiculous to deny the American his good looks, and Arthur didn’t try.

“... sensible approach. Joint exercises certainly foster strong interoperability. Now, I wanted to address our shared maritime trade routes. Maurtin, share the numbers from last October, if you would…”

The Naval Arms Race of recent years had British and American representatives interacting with increasing frequency, meaning Arthur and Alfred saw one another more often than the last few decades. 

They were mostly past the War of 1812, and Arthur’s sympathies for Alfred’s physical condition during his Civil War had forced the stoic Englishman to admit a singular… fondness (no matter how darling Matthew near scoffed at the admittance. That insolence had won the Canadian a proper talking to.)

“I extend my sincerest thanks, gentleman,” Arthur watched Alfred jump at Wilson’s change in tone. “Your attendance and contributions benefited a discussion making great strides in outlining how we proceed in future collaborations.”

“To the health and prosperity of King Geroge and President Taft,” Grant said, standing to shake  hands in farewell, the mustache beneath his nose still perfectly shaped after five hours of discussion. Impressive, thought Arthur with slight jealousy, thinking of his own unruly hair.

In ones and pairs, people collected their belongings and filtered out of the room, discussing evening plans and the contents of their visit amongst themselves. The secretary’s heels clipped at the floor on her way out, arms filled with confidential papers. 

Finally, only Arthur and Alfred remained. Concern mounted when Alfred didn’t seem to notice Arthur’s presence, instead rubbing at his eyes and tapping Texas against the table in a slow rhythm. Arthur waited in the silence to be acknowledged, and soon realized he waited for nothing. The American startled when Arthur rolled his chair back and stood, rounding the table to stand beside him. Alfred wiped his glasses and slid them up his nose, tilting his head in Arthur's direction. “How do you do, Arthur?” The Englishman’s white gloves pulled back the chair beside the American and sat, crossing one leg over the other and leaning over it to peer at Alfred’s warm face, sweat having revealed eyebags previously powdered over.

“Splendid, actually. You, however, look like death warmed up and rolled into a suit.” Alfred scoffed, leaning back and immediately wincing. “And, if I may be so forward, powder under the eyes? Really, Alfred, starch paste couldn’t conceal those hideous bags.”

No matter how exhausted the American was, unless he was permanently and wholly one with the dirt, Alfred F. Jones was never so incapacitated that he wouldn’t return fire.

“Starch, huh? So thaaaaat’s how you’ve achieved such a pasty complexion,” Alfred smiled, and held up his white starched cuffs against Arthur’s frowning face and ooh-ed with amazement at the apparent color match.

“Marvelous,” Arthur deadpanned, slapping aside the hand and immediately regretting it when Alfred hissed, then laughed it off. “You’re delightful as always, Arthur. But I’m afraid I’ll have to cut our time short.” Arthur didn’t take his green eyes away from Alfred’s slow accent to standing, watched how the American bit his lip through the tight smile breaking his hot face. Arthur didn’t move as Alfred clapped him on the shoulder in passing and forced his pace into something natural towards the door (obviously he failed, lilting to the side).

Arthur disliked the physical discomfort in his own chest at the sight of Alfred struggling. Even if they weren’t on the absolute best of terms, he was still the host country. Arthur reasoned it would be horrible of him not to look after his guest.

Arthur stood to follow. 

“Oh please, allow me the courtesy of walking you back to your hotel. Or were you staying at the Palace?” Arthur asked, ambling up to Alfred’s side and following him in an intentionally straight-postured, even pace. The juxtaposition only emphasized Alfred’s odd gait.

Alfred stopped and turned around, annoyed behind his pearly smile, “That’s alright, thanks though. I’m really not in the mood for company.”

Alfred returned to walking and was almost through the door. Arthur momentarily floundered for another excuse. “W-Well it’s just not proper to be walking alone at night.”

“I can take care of myself,” Alfred replied pointedly and Arthur frowned. He knew that! The lad had shown he could look after himself, and had been doing so long enough that it shouldn’t be a sore spot.

“Oh for the love of- you look awful , Alfred. Truly awful. Worse than death. Despite your insistence otherwise. Pray, let me walk you to your room to see that you are right and I will leave.”

Alfred looked as though the idea were unappealing and Arthur relented the formality, grasping Alfred’s arm and turning him around. “As a favor. I’ll hail a cab, see you to your accommodations. Then I’ll leave.”

“...Fine,” sighed the American, allowing the fatigue to slow his pace. 

Arthur called a cab and they both got in, Alfred relying his lodging’s address to the driver. They both settled into the backseat.

“You’re not sick from something back home, are you?” Arthur asked offhandedly, 

“Nothing like that, thankfully,” said Alfred, ready to pass out. “Just a hectic few weeks leading up. I’m gonna need to find a massage therapist tomorrow, though.”

Alfred rolled his shoulders experimentally and flinched.

“Did you tear something?” Arthur asked, putting aside his papers and feeling his fingers, gently, against the spot. Alfred shook his head in the negative, staring out the window with his eyes closed, and the Englishman pressed into the spot. 

“Argh-” Alfred immediately cried and the cab driver swerved in surprise, but when Arthur persisted he slowly relaxed, sighing with relief and slumped into his seat like a sack of potatoes.

Arthur kept at the spot, and after a minute Alfred cracked a smile, “That was cruel, you know.”

“Does it still feel that way?,” Arthur already knew the answer.

“... Not if you keep that up for another minute. Can you go up a bit?”

“Here?” Arthur moved to the tip the trapezius muscle, and again Alfred yelped before relaxing.

“Yeah. There.”

“We’ve arrived,” said the cab driver, waiting expectantly for his compensation. Arthur handed over a few quid and ushered Alfred out. 

As they took the elevator up and Alfred unlocked the door, he asked, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Bringing that up… would you like me to be otherwise?” Arthur asked pointedly, not waiting for a response before helping himself to a glass of whiskey from the room’s minibar. It was an elegant hotel with a luxurious four-poster bed. Behind the curtains, a full moon stood out against London’s foggy night sky. 

Staff had turned on a few warm-toned lamps, bathing the room in calm.

Alfred wasted no time in kicking off his shoes and shrugging out of his uniforms, leaving articles of clothing scattered over the carpet in his wake to his bed before plopping face-first onto the sheets.

“Hermph. Definitely not… thank you,” Alfred said, muffled against the sheets. “Otherwise I might‘ve fallen asleep at that conference table,” he admitted.

Arthur nursed his whiskey in a reading chair, watching Alfred half hang off the bed, lower legs dangling. “Are you getting under the blankets?” Arthur asked, inwardly surprised by the acceptable quality of the alcohol and Alfred’s sheer, visible tiredness. 

It was a rarity that Alfred exposed anything vulnerable, anything that didn’t conform to his overconfident, tireless American persona. 

“M’too sore,” Alfred muttered sleepily. “Thanks for the escort, I’ll be sure to return the favor next time you’re drunk off your ass.”

“Low blow,” Arthur grumbled, getting up and laying a palm over Alfred's back. The taller nation lurched at the motion but relaxed when he sensed the others' intentions.

After working at a small spot at the base of America’s neck for a moment with one hand, Arthur finished his drink and placed the glass on the side table. “Will you lay properly? I can’t get any leverage like this.”

Alfred groaned but shifted, laying in the middle of the bed face down, still in his underwear, socks and garters. 

From the bed, Alfred sleepily watched Arthur strip his blue uniform jacket and lay it over the abandoned chair, along with his shoes and watch. “Is that this season’s Newsome?” Alfred asked, catching the dial in the light.

“A gift from an acquaintance,” said Arthur, hoisting himself on the bed and straddling Alfred’s waist. The maneuver was smooth and the bed hardly shifted at the added occupant.

Alfred was tense beneath him, and Arthur took a moment to appreciate the sculpted geography of the American’s back. Taking a breath and willing his own anatomy not to betray him, Arthur pressed down with both hands. “Ah-ah ah-ow, ow, ow, ow!” Alfred cried, burying his face in the sheets and biting down to silence himself. Arthur stayed in that position a moment until Alfred relaxed, and began a smooth back and forth motion against his lower trapezius. 

“Uhhuhu…uhgh..” America sobbed quietly and Arthur fought against the sympathy constricting his throat, and the arousal tightening his groin at the delicate sounds.

Blimey , thought England, surprised at his own body. His hands found their rhythm against the smooth skin.

“What on Earth did you do?” Arthur asked, feeling tight knots everywhere he touched.

“Uggh- Ah! … Uhm, I was chopping wood for a week or two for the town,” Alfred said, producing a screech when Arthur jammed his thumb into a tender spot. However, after a moment of rubbing the pain subsided and made room for relief and Alfred slumped. “Might’ve overdone it.”

“And?” 

“And- Opfgdhp! And a few nights sleeping over a desk- Christ almighty!” Alfred punched the sheets and looked over his shoulder, “Crank it down a notch, yeah?”

Arthur stopped completely and glared down at the prone American.

Alfred couldn’t see him but obviously felt its intensity when he relented, “Sorry, I do appreciate this, Arthur. Feels… fantastic - AHHPHrgh,” he yelped, legs jolting off the bed.

Arthur smirked, working down the back where it was less painful and applying even pressure to the latissimus dorsi. Arthur pressed dexterous fingers alongside the spine, had to lean over the spot to properly address the powerful muscles, and was rewarded with eliciting a shaky, whistling breath out from Alfred’s muffled face. Slowly, the Englishman felt the tight knots fade under his efforts. Alfred moaned and Arthur looked up at the canopy, willing the heat to leave his face.

Alfred shifted beneath him and Arthur looked down, flush mostly gone. He raised an eyebrow, “What is it?”

“Err,” Alfred started, shifting again. “Could you do my shoulders again? They’re still pretty tight.” He rolled them as if to emphasize, and Arthur was inwardly pleased with the smoothness of the motion compared to twenty minutes ago.

“Were you raised by wolves, America? What do we say when we want something?” he asked in a patronizing tone, leaning in close to hear Alfred respond in a similar one:

“Oh, oh pretty please , Arthur?”

“Much better.” Arthur’s arms were slightly sore. Nevertheless he felt up to the outside of Alfred’s broad shoulders and used a crawling technique, pressing his thumbs down and inching them towards one another until they met at the spine. 

From the side, Alfred’s eyes fluttered closed in relief. All discomfort in Arthur’s arms vanished in a flash and his heartbeat quickened, and he repeated the movement with renewed purpose while the clock ticked in the dim light.

“I’m gonna fall asleep, England. Thank you,” Alfred finally mumbled, a puddle of contentment beneath Arthur’s sweating form.

I’d forgotten how physically demanding massages were , Arthur panted, forehead bowed to Alfred’s warm back.

“A-hem,” The Englishman coughed, surprised by his own reaction, “Happy to be of service.”

He stepped off Alfred with less elegance than when he’d stepped on, and wasn’t surprised to see those blues hidden from view and the youthful face fast asleep by the time he’d cleaned his flushed face and thrown on his uniform jacket. Stepping closer he noted Texas quashed between his temple and the plush bed.

The American hadn’t bothered taking his glasses off and Arthur mused, gently tugging them off and folding them onto the nightstand beside his empty tumbler, how they remained straight and unscratched with such a neglectful owner.

Blowing on his eyelids to confirm he was fully asleep, Arthur pressed his lips against the sleeping man’s forehead, breathing in to savor the sensation, and was out of the room before his neck turned red enough to warrant a comment of concern from the hotel doorman.

—-------------------

The door shut and Alfred pried one eye open, casting a wink at Arthur’s empty glass and stretching his long limbs along the luxurious sheets with a sigh of bliss.

[ajwild220]

"Rescue me softly"

Sidekick has been captured and tortured by Villain. What happens when Hero comes to the rescue. Fluff, that's what happens. Sidekick x hero

Warnings: Blood, restrained sidekick, mentions of torture (whipping) not graphic, hero being too cute.

The pole Sidekick was chained to was warm. The wood took on her body heat as her front was forced to hug it. The wood had soaked up her sweat and was stained red with blood, not all of it hers. Whipping poles told stories soaked into the fibers, she thought blearily, stories stained red. She swallowed, her throat was raw and bruised, and the cuts on her back smarted. Her simple white shirt had been ripped open in the back and the tatters were now crimson all along the sides where the fabric met her skin. A shudder went down her spine as she felt a trickle of blood flow down to be soaked up by her waistband. Torture had never been Sidekick's strong suit; her stomach for blood was little, an odd trait for a sidekick, but she was of the lesser variety, so it was unusual for her to be out on the field like this. Apparently, information was just as deadly as having extraordinary powers. When Villain had found her, he had wanted to know all about the big heroic plan, she hadn’t told him, she paid in screams, in agony, in blood.

Steps echoed in the hallway and Sidekick unintentionally flinched, groaning to herself, another round of torture, it was going to get worse. She shifted uneasily on her feet, tucking her sweaty head in between the pole and her bound arm hiding her eyes from her impending doom. Keep her mind safe from looking on Villain’s violent face if even for just a moment, keep him from seeing the fear she knew he would see for a second longer.  The footsteps were louder now, just outside the door of the underground chamber, Sidekick braced herself for the inevitable. The door opened. She held her breath as the creaking hinges heralded in a pair of footsteps and creaked shut once more. Body tense, she waited for him to approach, waited for the pain; but it never came.

“Sidekick?”

Sidekick’s body froze, that was not Villains voice. She couldn’t dare to hope, she lifted her head swiftly trying to crane her neck to see behind her, wincing as she did so but she wouldn’t stop.

“Hero? Hero is that you?” her voice cracked still horse from its use and laced with desperation. “Hero let me see you, ow” her struggle pulled at the wounds on her skin. “Let me see you, please.” Her breathing was quick, what if this was a trick? What if it wasn’t really him? But his voice sounded again as he rushed into her line of sight.

“It’s me, it’s ok sidekick, it’s me. I’m here.” And there he was, dirty blond hair tousled, and dark eyebrows furrowed as he took in her predicament. “Oh sidekick…it’s ok, I’m so sorry, I’m here now.”

“Hero?” Sidekick’s eyes were filling with tears as she tried to force herself to turn more towards him the chains biting into her wrists, “it’s you.”

He moved closer eyes trying not to focus on her marred skin. “It’s me, it’s me don’t try to move, I’m right here.” He rested a hand on her cheek wiping away one of the tears that had fallen. She leaned into the touch and her words were choked, “you came.”

“I did” he stroked her cheek and set down the medical bag he carried in his other hand, “Hold still sweetheart I’m going to get you out of here.”

“But Villain—”

“He’s being taken care of; Superhero is here with me.”

Sidekick nodded and pushed her face harder into Hero’s palm trapping it between her cheek and shoulder, the need for him to be close and that was the only way to accomplish it.

With her face turned away Hero took a moment to examine her injuries, they looked painful, and he winced for her. “I’m here to get you out, but only after I get a signal from Supervillain, he said it wouldn’t be for an hour or so most likely.”

She nodded against his still trapped palm; he could tell she was still choked up probably from the pain as well as his presence.

“Oh sidekick…let’s get you out of here.”

“Ok” the reply was very small, very hopeful.

“I need my hand back, just for a minute then you can have it back.”

Reluctantly she complied, allowing him to remove his hand from her face and walk around the pole to where her hands were chained. She could feel his hands on her chaffed wrists as he examined the cuffs. “If I remove these, can you stand?”

She tested not using the cuffs as support before replying. “I think so”

“Alright then, I’m going to take them off.” Small clicking sounds reverberated throughout the dungeon and the cuffs fell, she sighed in relief as the heavy iron was removed from her skin even if her wrists stung a little, she went to rub some circulation back, but he caught her hands, “Your wrists are bleeding, don’t touch them with your hands they might get infected.” Sidekick groaned with displeasure but obeyed, keeping herself upright as he came back to her side of the pole once more. Hero seemed ready to catch her “you sure you can stand?”

“Mm shaky but I can prove it to you.” Her words were slightly run together like they took a lot of effort. She took two steps towards him and flung herself into his arms, her arms tucked securely behind his neck as she buried her face in him. The one person she feared she would never see again, her Hero. His comforting smell enveloped her, the pleasure and the pain were too much, and she began to cry. Villain hadn’t been permitted to see her tears, but she shared them freely with Hero, with him she was safe.

Hero could feel the sobs wracking through sidekicks’ body. They were almost enough to break his heart. Exhaustion was evident on his sidekick as she clung to him. He wanted to support her, but he didn’t know where to put his hands. So much of her back was hurt, bleeding. Slowly, he hooked an arm under hers and around to rest on the back of her neck, the other on her waist near the base of her back, pulling her into him so he could support more of her weight. “shhh It’s gonna be ok.” His hand that was on her neck began to softly stroke her hair.

“It’s ok sidekick, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” She pressed her face into his neck, he could feel the cold wetness of her tears on his skin. They remained like that for several minutes, sidekick crying and Hero gently stroking her hair, offering some comfort.

When Sidekick began to still, body quieting from all the crying, Hero kissed the top of her head.

“Hey” He pulled back just enough to get a better look at her face she did the same

“I gotta clean you up.” Her head went back to hide in his neck.

“Hey!” he smiled as she purposely hid. Hero’s voice dipped quiet again, “You’re bleeding on my hand, and I know that your back has to hurt. Let me bandage it please.”

No answer. “Please Sidekick?”

He knew she was tired, could feel how much she was leaning against him. He felt her words rumble into his neck. “What was that darling?” so so soft.

“Maybe they just heal on their own.” Hero couldn’t help but smile at the tone of voice sidekick used, a tone that gave permission. “Maybe I help you.”

Sidekick shifted lower leaning against him more heavily as she listened to his heartbeat, a moment went by as she gathered the courage to speak up. “It hurts.”

He pulled her closer, “I know, let’s get you cleaned up.”

She offered no resistance as he guided her to a cleanish-looking corner and transferred her from leaning on him to leaning on the wall. Her feet wobbled beneath her as she watched him grab his bag, he pulled out a thin blanket and laid it on the floor in front of her. He offered a hand for her to take, “Will you lie down on your stomach?” Sidekick nodded as he helped her down, wincing terribly. Shakily she folded her arms under her head a small cry leaving her mouth as the action pulled on the lashes. Sidekick tried to control her breathing as the pain spiked. “Sorry-Sorry”

“It’s ok, I know it hurts.” Hero knelt by her shoulder purposely letting his knee touch her shoulder as he unzipped his bag, some form of physical touch to keep her grounded.

“Cry out if you need to,” he paused, looking down at the tense line of her shoulders.

“Hey, sidekick,” his hand gently touched her shoulder, drifted to trace the outline of her ear, finally stroking her cheek all in one fluent motion. “You hear me down there?”

He saw her take a breath biting her lip. All adrenaline seemed to be gone from her system. Her words were all choked. “It really hurts now Hero.”

The furrow in his brows grew deeper as he found some pain pills and a water bottle in the first aid bag. “Pop some pills for me huh?” He reached down trying to hand them to her, but she turned her head. “I’m gonna choke.”

“You won’t choke, just take them.”

She shook her head against her forearms, voice almost desperate now. It seems the pain had finally caught up. “Gonna choke.”

Heros dark eyes flicked over his sidekick in worry, “You feel like you’re gonna puke?”

A grumbled ‘no’ was the only answer he received. Without a word he uncapped the bottle and leaned down closer. “Small sip.”

“I don’t want to.”

His answer was soft but firm, he knew her. “Hey, not a question, small sip for me.” Thankfully the order got through and she obeyed, slowly, but she lifted her head just enough to drink and accept the pills he offered, swallowing roughly before placing her head back down still looking up at him.

He talked to keep her mind on him as he steadily unpacked the necessary things from the heavy canvas bag. “Those pills won’t kick in for a little while. I’m sorry I didn’t know, or I would have brought something stronger. I’m going to—”

“You don’t usually bring the med bag with you on missions.”

“Huh?” his eyebrow quirked at her interruption as he set some unrolled gauze down on the blanket.

“How’d you know to bring it?” She coughed a little, voice horse.

He fiddled around almost avoiding the truth. “You know other hero?”

She nodded.

“When we got here twenty minutes ago, he told me.”

Sidekick didn’t mean to blush.

“He heard it all?”

“Yeah.”

Other Hero could hear a pin drop from miles away if he chose to, what had left sidekicks back in this shape was much louder than a pin drop. There was no shame in crying out when put in the agony that Villain had suscepted her to, but for some reason it was embarrassing. That her agony had been so on display. Even with her head tucked against her forearms Hero could see the blush already climbing up to the nape of her neck. He ignored it, changing the subject, taking his hand that was not already stained by her blood, and gently carding his fingers through her hair.

“I was worried about you.” He continued with his comforts. “I’m glad I made it. Don’t be embarrassed yeah? It’s just me.” Her head turned his hand never ceasing tracing her scalp. Her dark brown eyes silently peaking out to look at him.

“Just you?”

He smiled a small smile. “Just me.” And with that, he leaned down and placed a feather-light kiss on her cheek. “Let’s get you cleaned up, Darling.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Did you like it? Interested in part 2?

[saotoru]

hi hi loml your boy leon is on my mind and :((( i’m obsessed with how whiny and desperate you write him and now i’m wondering if you think he’d suck your strap :(( i gotta know your expert opinion

MY LOVE OMG you have no idea how much this means to me coming from you <33

leon is a SLUT for the strap!!! gives your cock the messiest, messiest oral :( his ideal night in consists of sucking you off while you sit on the couch to watch a movie and ignore him. lays down on his tummy and buries his face in your pelvis, spits and licks and literally slurps your cock for hours </33 rubs his lips on your spit-slicked tip, pumps the rest with his fist and moans about how good you taste :( he just loves being your brainless little thing <33 and when you do acknowledge him, it’s to call him a pretty cockslut. he’s so dizzy that he doesn’t care, nods dumbly and kisses your tip and says yeah, ‘m your slut. HMNNGGG

grrgehrbrb and he’s so pretty when he rides it too. he does all the work too, grinding on top of you and hitting his prostate over and over while moaning about how hot you are <333 he’s really such a whore. im talking eyes going crossed, mouth parted in an ‘o’, just so so cockdrunk for you </3

[deafeninggardenerpanda]

What is Sir Arthur like in your headcanons? Is he a good leader or a respected one?

"people always knew sir arthur had a lot of potential--probably the most out of all of the generals--but that didn't mean news that he was to be the next leader didn't come as a bit of a surprise to everyone. usually that position went to the most senior general after the leader. regardless, it seemed the former leader saw something in him, and so he tentatively, but resolutely, stepped into his new role after the former leaders death with the eyes of the universe on him

all means considered, he acted exactly how a leader should act. he planned carefully and gave orders precisely, maintained a professional appearance at all times, and took on the work of managing the army without complaint. but the shoes he had to fill were large--the criticism only amplified by him being the personal choice of the previous leader for reasons that could only be speculated on, as she had never publicly disclosed. any great achievements of arthur's only stood to be compared to the person whose footsteps he followed."

[lloydfrontera]

may i please ask what are all of lloyd's titles and their functions? the ones in wiki are based on the manhwa and all of them are basically joke titles and descriptions 🙏

oh this is a hard one, okay let me see if i can remember (and find) all of them-

uhm, turned out this got longer than i anticipated so. for the sake of not cluttering everyone's dash everything's gonna be under a read more

Ch. 101 [Exemplifying Punisher] [Title Level: Fiefdom rumor] The hooligan is out for trouble again! He endured everyone’s mockery. In doubt and suspicion, he fought while drenched in sweat. Against the sword of the traitor, he stood with bravery. No retreat. He remained canny. At last, he punished the big snitch. The root of injustice he plucked, willful and witty. Lloyd Frontera, the hooligan, the eldest son of the barony. [Compliment Effect: You hold great influence on those below you. Those who work for you pay more attention to your words. Cases of disobedience and insubordination will be reduced significantly.] [Title Region: Frontera barony.] [Active Period of Title: 7 years] [Monthly CP Earned from the Title: 1]

Ch. 101 [Builder of Dead Estates]

Ch. 101 [Honored Warrior of the Barbaric Tribe]

Ch. 101 [Guardian of Cremo] [Title Level: Regional talk] Carpeted the night sky, the monster’s gaze. Stood a man’s powerful will. The city’s blaze died at his yell. The monster’s heart dropped as his feet fell. Night of disaster may not quell. But the morning ray shall fall. Come. Oh, the monster of the deep sea. Come. Oh, to the dawn of protection. [Compliment Effect: When you fight an opponent ten times or heavier than you, “Iron Stance” is invoked. The damage you deal against the opponent will double. The damage you receive from the opponent will be halved.] [Title Region: Entire Cremona region, including City of Cremo.] [Active Period of Title: 120 years] [Monthly CP Earned from the Title: 6]

Ch. 101 [Magentano Carry] [Title Level: The unofficial history of the kingdom] Faster than anyone else, you have arrived. The poison hungry for my heart, you have plucked. Without reservation, you have left your mark on my heart. You have gasped for air in place of my breath. Your eyes trembled in place of mine. You have even tried to sacrifice your life to save mine. At last, your back carried my body, and you protected me with an indomitable spirit. My dear brave Frontera. How can I ignore you? How can I forget you? My soul is indebted to you for as long as your breath lasts and heart beats. [Compliment Effect: As the lifesaver of Queen Magentano, you have her absolute trust. Your opinion and advice will be positively received. Moreover, for as long as her reign continues, you will never be suspected of treason or rebellion.] [Title Region: Magentano Kingdom] [Active Period of Title: Queen Magentano's reign]

Ch. 109 [Bell Saver] [Title Level: Regional talk] Murky clouds covered the eastern sky. Carrying an apocalypse, they flew. Livestock perished, houses crushed. Humans weeped, swords snapped. When death neared everyone. When two fiefdoms despaired as one. A bell tolled aloud in unison. Bong. The livestock was saved. Bong. The people woke up. Bong. Hope was alive. That's why we shall chant out for our savior. [Compliment Effect: The Frontera barony and Lacona viscounty, who have undergone the attack of the plague of locusts, will consider you as their lifesaver throughout your lifetime. Moreover, every form of insect monster instinctively will fear you and get discouraged when they see you.] [Title Region: Frontera barony and Lacona viscounty.] [Active Period of Title: 110 Years.] [Monthly CP Earned from the Title: 3]

Ch. 119 [The Eldest Son of the Frontera Family.] [Title Level: Regional talk] There are times when you incur a loan or take on debt. But you see... When misfortune sweeps over your life, when crippling debt burdens your shoulders, you and many others will despair. You and many others will berate destiny and bad luck. That isn't bad. Perhaps, it's only natural. Anyone would react that way. That is why he is so great. No one had trusted him. Everyone considered him to be impossible. And yet, he didn't despair and gave up easily. So, my son, when the weight of life seems to crush you down, look toward his accomplishment. For potential is always present in everyone. [Compliment Effect: You have attained the highest financial credit ranking in the Cremona region. You can now acquire an investment in the most advantageous conditions and with the lowest interest rate available at any time. Moreover, no one will pressure you for an investment or any form of a loan.] [Active Period of Title: Lifetime] [Monthly CP Earned from the Title: 2]

Ch. 139 [The Leader for the Weary] Title Level: Fiefdom history I lost my home. I ran out of food. I didn't even have fire to warm me. I roamed without aim. Aha, this is how it ends for me. My tears and sighs were endless. I crawled, comforting my starving child. I wandered for a place to die. There was no paradise in sight. Not even somewhere to lie down. I gave up and dispaired. Then, I met him. That was when I finally realized. Someone held out his hand to me. To me, who had given up on myself. I realized that there was one person left to save me. Compliment Effect: The refugees settled in Frontera county sincerely revere and look up to you. They wull work the land in their utmost capacity to pay off their debts. For the next 30 years, the terrace fields will have 300% more chances of a bumber crop. The crop will be raised by 200% on default. Title Region: Frontera County Active Period of Title: 30 years Monthly CP earned from the Title: 3

Ch. 160 Do you want the red or blue pill? Title Level: Kingdom History A long, long time ago. In a remote fiefdom in the east, there lived a petty young master. This young master, owning such a foul and warped character, stuck his nose in everyone's business, even regarding their bathroom habits. People thus then asked, young master, my dear young master, why must we collect our poop and throw it here? The young master enthusiastically waved his hands and said, it's smelly, so you might as well hurry. They tilted their heads. But a few years later, they realized. They realized their villages, fiefdoms and fields no longer held traces of any infectious disease. From the moment the news spred, people from all over the kingdom, most of the residents in the fiefdom no longer disposed of their wastes anywhere they could. Compliment Effect: The chances of an infectious disease plaguing the fiefdom are zero for the time being. Moreover, any infectious disease that starts outside the fiefdom will be stopped and eradicated with 100% certainty. Title Region: Frontera county. Active Period of Title: 50 Years. Monthly CP Earned from the Title: 6

Ch. 177 Hell's Singer Title Level: Reguinal Epic Tale & Scary Story The Namaran's Wall stood tall and high. People fell, crying out loud. Everyone searched for redemption when the silver-haired knight got to his feet. Combat he did against Hell's Knight. But he was outpowered. The power of hell was overcome, only to return. The silver haired knight pleaded before the mysterious power. Who shall stand shoulder to shoulder and fight with me? Who shall, with valor, come forward for everyone? I only seek one. Then someone called out. I want peace! Mahavanya Suri Suri Sabaha! Like a leech, the man clutched the Hell's Knight's leg. The thunderous voice plunged the Knight into doom. Stop it! Do not Sing! No more noise, please! Those were the last words of Hell's Knight. Compliment Effect: You have become a celebrity among all existence, including the undead. You are now notorious for oening a devilish musical sense in this earth and hell. For this, every creature in this earth and hell will fear, or at times respect, your singing. Title Region: Namaran County & Hell. Active Period of Title: 80 years (Namaran County)/30,000 years (Hell) Monthly CP earned from the Title: 4

Ch. 197 Top Gun from the West Title Level: Regional Hero Tale There's no water. We're thirsty. Sultan abandoned us. Even the administrator fled away. No help came our way. That seemed to be it. That seemed to be it without change. All may perish, but nothing will change. Everyone gave up. That was the reason. When a young master from a neighboring country woke us up. When he gave us water stressing it was coming from him. What a strange man he is, we thought. What a creepy man he is, we thought. We never knew then. That this young master will never give up on us. That he would toil covered in sad all day when the sultan and administrator abandoned us. So what happened now? Allow me to ask you a question first. My dear customer, would you like some tea? Compliment effect: You have become the livesaver and hero of the entire region by solving the chronic drought that plagued the Kandahar desert. Your tale will spread to all corners of the desert. The shamans of desert tribes in the world bless your name with gratitude and respect. Thanks to it, you will not experience dehydration in any situation in the regions of the complement influence. Title Region: All desert regions. All areas whose annual average climate is 104 Fº and above. Active Period of Title: 300 years. Monthly CP Earned from the Title: 4

Ch. 241 Frozen Hands, Frozen Feet The lava giant is scary. The lava giant is hot. The lava giant is violent. So shh. You can never anger the giant. That is what we believed in. The King of Hell is busy. Hell's Knights hate doing rough work. We never dared to call them, so we just got beaten up. We thought staying low was the answer in life. But it wasn't. There was always a way. Lloyd Frontera, that human. I never expected that humn to start this. Wonder what it is? Let's close the door first if you want to hear it. The cold wind is blowing... A-achoo! Compliment Effect: You have played a critical role in destroying the most dangerous and violent creature in Hell, the lava giant. Thousands of demons clearly saw your feat and this heroic tale will spread across Hell. Thanks to that, you will be feared and respected by the demons equal to Hell's Knight. Moreover, you will not suffer from hypothermia in cold climates and will not freeze to death. Title Region: All Hell regions. All areas whose annual average climate is 32 Fº and below. Active Period of Title: 120 years (Human world)/100,000 years (Hell) Monthly CP Earned from the Title: 6

Ch. 271 Upper abdomen! Upper abdomen! Upper abdomen! Title Level: Maritime legend. (I'm skipping this one. It's not worth typing out all of it) Compliment Effect: You have resolved the Kraken's indigestion in one try. The Kraken and thousands of members of the Mermaid Corps clearly witnessed this. For this, your heroic feat will spread throughout all the seas in the world, and getting hit in the upper abdomen will become the go-to-method among marine creatures to treat indigestion. Moreover, you have acquired <Underwater Breathing> and <Upper Abdomen Jab>. The former skills allows you to freely breathe underwater, and the latter skill enables you to empty anyone's stomach in the water with just one jab. Title Region: Any terrain that has a water level of above 20 inches, which includes seas, rivers, lakes and bathtubs. Active Perdio of Title: 3,000 years. Monthly CP earned from the title: 5

Ch. 295 Don't Look Down on a Human Ever Again Title Level: Regional Folktale Trot. Trot. There once was a man. He ran in the morning. In the afternoon. In the evening. With his only two legs, he waddled and created a distasteful sight. And he was slow, so slow that even a foal would yawn. But he was faster than four legged creatures. He ran across the vast plain and reached the territory of the humans. He proved that the one who arrives at the finish line first is faster than the one who runs fast. So, what do you have to do if you wish to run like him? How about you start running southward? Just 372 miles. Compliment effect: With your marvelous show of tenacity and endurance, you have opened a new era of long-distance running to the centaurs. The centaur champion and many others who watched the race genuinely accepted your long-distance running method. Owing to it, your reputation will spread to every corner of the vast plain, and the new running method - running a long distance while saving energy - will be a trend among the young centaurs. Moreover, you have acquired a new passive effect <Fuel Efficiency> that reduces the energy consumption by half in situations where your heartbeat goes over 140 every minute. Title Region: The Great Plain of Klamath. Any plain ground with a land mass of over 1,000m² Active Period of Title: 160 years. Monthly CP Earned from the Title: 2

Ch. 359 Hell's Top Talent Title Level: Hero's Legacy Okay, it’s time to study the railway of the past. Open your History of Modern Civil Engineering Book to page 359. Yes. That’s the famous Pantara Railway, which I’m sure every one of you knows. Student in the front row. Could you briefly walk us through how this railroad came to be? Excellent. That’s correct. The Pantara Railway, just like what the student said, is a masterpiece built by Lloyd Frontera, who received an order from the Magentano House. Hahaha. Are you all bored? It’s Lloyd Frontera again. Look at this section, and you’ll find Lloyd Frontera. Move on to the next part and you still find him. I, too, am sick of him. Had it not been for him, we would only have one eight of what we will study this summer. But what else can we do? That son of a gun set the groundwork for the civil engineering of our empire. So, it would be unfair if we were the only ones to suffer, no? Let’s hit the book. Come now. Let’s study harder, create new theories and make it harder for the students who’ll come after you all. All right, so the Pantara Railroad introduced the switchback system for the first time in the world… Compliment Effect: You used every means possible to finish the railroad in the Pantara Range. In this process, you tricked countless people who shuddered in shock and repulsion. The demons watching over you could not give you enough praise. As a result, countless residents of Hell and the undead have come to respect and admire you even more strongly. Precaution: The affections of the demons may come at the expense of Hell's King overwhelming desire to recruit you. Title Region: All the Regions of the Human World and Hell Active Period of Title: 1200 years (Human World)/750,000 years (Hell) Monthly CP Earned from the Title: 8

ok so. those are all i could remember off the top of my head and find today. i am almost certain i missed one but i can't for the life of me remember what arc it's in. still! hope this helps!

[mangysah]

Pretty girl 🏳️‍⚧️💗

[kaus-quietis]

Lav's All-smiles Problem-solving Roooooundtable ch108 edition!

Welcome, welcome! To Lav's BSD ch108 discussion! Delivered to you via my funky dove Eliott, acting as my mystic messenger. These are random thoughts I had after reading this brilliant chapter, which, writing-wise, made the best possible use of Fedya's character, expanding it even more without even betraying his backstory. Maybe a backstory isn't needed after all, just look at how much FUN he is right now. I am in BLISS

Putting aside the fact that he is literally carrying the plot at this point, come sit with me, I make you a delicious Chinese black tea with rose petals and casually share my thoughts. Hello there, dearest Kat, yes, "where is Lav when you need her?", I am here, I offer you a hug, and to all my friends here who share the sentiment, I hug you too.

A. Before you say ANYTHING about "oh but? maybe Fedya is telling the half-truth? or a half-lie? what if his ability really is the evil one?", my brothers and sisters in Christ, listen to yourself. This man functions almost on a meta-level of character consciousness: he changed his facial expression and aura so convincingly, his tone, his speech, his posture, even the shade of his eyes, fooling not only Sigma, but the readers as well. We are used to characters changing the shade of their eyes when they change mental states or have certain (new) decisions in mind, we as a community are so used to this, all it took was one panel from the Conjurer doing this trick for so many of us to actually believe him and start, yet again, to spiral down the "what if he is good but his ability is evil? what if he is two entities? what if?" rollercoaster. This is so amusing to me, and in a meta-sense must be amusing to Fedya too. While speculation can bloom again based on this, I wouldn't be putting too much effort into reading into his lines here. I take it as a trick. It worked splendidly, almost like it attacked the fandom's major concerns and theories about his character and weaponized them against everyone. That's a meta-kind of tomfoolery. Trolling, if you will. I LOVE that Asagiri made him bamboozle every reader like this. His character so far goes into the best direction, it cultivates and expands his traits and skills in the best way. But let's pretend Fedya really is telling a half-truth there, which is there being an opposition between him and his ability. I talked about this in my essay (see pinned post), there really seems to be a divergence at the core of his character, but it manifests subtly, not like what we saw in ch108. Then again, not even on that can we arrive at any conclusive statements, because if we remember that, of course, "crime and punishment are close friends", it could well be that he and his ability are partners, and you bet I imagine they would BOTH indulge in peak tomfoolery like this together, if that meant one of them switching in and the other out for a sec. Remember, dear souls: aside from his "higher mission", abstract as it still is lore-wise, Fedya's keyword is "fun" or "entertainment", repeatedly. And oh he himself is even more fun now~

B. if Fedya would have wanted to mortally wound Sigma, he'd have chosen a more suitable place to stab him; it looks like a abdominal, lower quadrant, lateral stab, a deliberate choice, I would say, that technically avoids critical, most vascular organs (kidney and spleen for example) and main veins/arteries. I am no doctor, but from what I gathered, Sigma won't bleed out fast at all, and if untreated might get a deadly infection in a longer time (not counting the possibility of septic shock if we assume the knife penetrated and heavily opened an intestine). Sigma needs a medic asap (our queen Yosano when?), but will likely be conscious and quite able to move around and whatnot. Like I argued in my essay, Fedya most likely does not want to kill Sigma, or anybody for that matter, because keeping everyone alive to fulfill various roles and see how their will tosses them in all kinds of directions is more fun for him, more entertaining, but also more useful. He is a long-term strategist, like Dazai. "Our beloved monsters" ❤

C. Fedya evidently exerts some serious mental torment on Sigma, by making him stand by his choices, his will, just like he always desired. The flip side is that Fedya takes his time, or should I say gifts Sigma his time, in which he teaches him the full lesson of what Sigma wants. The responsibility that comes with acting on your own, the terror of facing the consequences when choosing on your own: right now, to Sigma, this freedom is terror. But Fedya is never a one-dimensional character. It's most probable he calculated and devised strategies for both possibilities (a. Sigma with rekindled determination touches him; b. Sigma backpedals on what he decided and does not touch him). The irony is that both scenarios are an affirmation of Sigma's will, because, while the first decision can be seen like foolish bravery, the second one can also be seen as wise self-preservation, if the circumstances so demand it. BSD is not a black-and-white series, diving head-first into danger is not its definition of bravery or heroism. BSD was always about measured decisions, ones the characters take upon themselves willingly. It may be time Sigma does that too, in his own way, and Fedya wants to see that. Why? Well, my guess is because it's fascinating to watch humans grow, and Fedya lives for the entertainment that comes with it. It is actually more interesting if we remember his line from ch42 (“People can be so simple… They truly believe they are thinking for themselves. (…) They don’t want to think they’re being led by the nose”): the pattern is, Fedya puts others under harsh circumstances, and then, under pressure, lets go of them, waiting for their free decision, the true test and expression of their hearts, so to say (which could make a superb discussion if we make a parallel between Kunikida and Sigma, since essentially what happened to Kunikida is happening now to Sigma, except Kunikida did indeed break down, but thanks to healthy support from his comrades he slowly regained his sense of self, and stronger than ever at that time, however… Sigma is alone, isn't he? but what if he needs to be in order to finally get a hold of his own self?). Anyway, how much of that expression is free, or how much is guided or manipulated, is a debate in itself, since it implies relating the freedom to the individual vs relating the freedom to the external factors and possibilites.

D. I do need to underline, just like Fedya also underlined it: Sigma already made his decision, right there when he still tried to get the gun before getting kicked in the face. Fedya moved on to the next step: testing how strong Sigma's will is when an actual chance to act appears. Sigma already accepted the physical pain, but how will he face the mental anguish? That is more Fedya's territory, a "specialist" of breaking people by simply knowing them thoroughly and choosing the right words. But now we gained new info: even in close combat, apparently, Fedya is not to be underestimated. That was a rather strong kick, anyway. But more importantly, he completely turned the tables in a situation where he would be in a total disadvantage. * chef's kiss * that was very bungou stray dogs of him.