#strait of sirens

[neixins]

ok I'll bite. what's the singing hills cycle by nghi vo

hehehe my nghi-vo-stan-ification beam is working like a charm >:3

it’s a fantasy novella series following a cleric named chih as they travel around the kingdom recording stories along with their companion, almost brilliant, a talking bird historian (the birds are called neixin….they remember stories and pass them down through generations….and they’re called neixin….they’re hearts . they (static noises)), and each novella is one story. the first book is the empress of salt and fortune, and it’s about the empress’ rise to power, told by her handmaiden, and the second book, when the tiger came down the mountain, is about a romance between a tiger and a scholar (they’re lesbians <3), told by chih and corrected by three tigers who want to eat them and their guide. the third novella, into the riverlands, is coming out on oct 25 and it’s a wuxia (scream!!!), and there’s two more installments slated for release!!

it’s SUCH a gorgeously written and smart series that packs so much into so few pages and says so much about the importance and ethics of storytelling and i cannot recommend it highly enough!!! it also features a lot of women that make me insane which is always a plus <3

#please please please read it it’s so good i prommy!!!! #she’s also written two novels that are both set in a fantastical version of 1920s us #i haven’t read siren queen yet (saving it for when i’m in dire straits fjshdkd) but the chosen and the beautiful was so good #asks #nghi vo

[parttimereporter]

Tensions escalate in the Middle East

Iran’s Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) Navy has seized a container ship in a helicopter operation near the Strait of Hormuz, state news agency IRNA reported on Saturday.

IRNA reported that the IRGC seized the Portuguese-flagged MSC Aries, which is now being "directed back to Iranian territorial waters."

According to IRNA, the vessel is managed by the Zodiac Maritime, a company linked to Israeli businessman Eyal Ofer.

#middle east #world war III #israel #strait of hormuz #war #siren

[missmungoe]

I give you: The Navigator’s Map of Shanties for the Weary Voyager!

So my husband got the idea to make a timeline map of my Shanks x Makino series ("Shanties" for short), so that readers could better see how the different fics are connected, and while I should have been prepared, knowing full well how brilliant he is, I was not prepared for the end result. I mean look at it!!!

Some descriptions of key fics and planned updates below! The fics are listed in the recommended reading order on AO3, but feel free to chart your own course! Beware rogue whirlpools and dangerous straits, and remember that however dark and treacherous the sea, at the end of the voyage is always a safe harbour ♥

Hoist the colours! 🏴‍☠️

Heed the Siren’s Call // Shanks and Makino’s origin story, and the starting point of Shanties. Setting is pre-series to the timeskip.

Sailor's Folly // Siren's Call from Shanks' perspective. Includes the origins of Makino's sword, Siren.

Sea Songs // Sequel to Siren’s Call, set during the canon timeskip and after.

Scylla // Pirate!Makino AU, where Makino leaves East Blue with the Red-Hair Pirates at the start of One Piece.

Charybdis // Sea Songs AU, where Blackbeard destroys Fuschia and Makino goes on a trek across the Grand Line looking for Shanks, who thinks she's dead.

Mnemosyne // Kuja!Makino AU, where after Siren's Call, a pregnant Makino ends up on Amazon Lily.

Andromeda Unbound // Reverie Arc AU, where Makino, the Revolutionary Army, the Red-Hair Pirates, Straw-Hats and the Warlords join forces to crash Shanks’ execution.

On the Water // Pirate!Makino AU, where Makino and her child leave East Blue with the Red-Hair Pirates after the timeskip. Includes Shanks and Makino's floating bar, Siren's Call.

Salt Vows // Arrested!Makino AU, set during the current Egghead arc.

Tethered to Kinder Shores // Makino and the Red-Hair Pirates. Includes the origin of Makino's shanty, "Moored to Her Port".

Moon and Her Maiden // Selkie AU. Canon OP verse but Makino is a selkie.

Tideswept // Royal/Arranged Marriage AU.

Bind Me to the Tide // Soulmate AU, where soulmates feel each other's pain. Canon OP verse but with soulmates.

Love In Good Liquor // One-Shot collection set during the different Shanties verses.

Planned updates

This list is not comprehensive (meaning I have more fics that I plan to continue than the ones listed here), but it's the stories I'm focusing on right now:

Andromeda Unbound // Chapter 9/9 ✅ (Complete)

Bind Me to the Tide // Chapter 5/? ✅

Mnemosyne // Chapter 29/29 ✅ (Complete)

Salt Vows // Chapter 3/? ✅

Tideswept // Chapter 8/9

On the Water // Chapter 4/5

#Shanks x Makino #opfanfic #One Piece Makino #OP Makino #Red-Haired Shanks #Shanks #One Piece #these tags are going to be a little unhinged but AHHHHHH LOOK AT IT!!!!! #IT'S AN HONEST-TO-GOD *PIRATE MAP* #when he said he was making a map I thought it would just be the titles with lines between them??? #this...I have no words #the sheer amount of work and detail that's gone into this #THE ISLANDS #the COMPASS ROSE #THE WHIRLPOOL AND THE SEA MONSTER AND THE TINY SEAL #and just...the composition?? #I want to print this and hang it up #oh my *god* #this man #9 years married and he still sweeps me off my feet :´) #otp: sing me sea shanties #Shanties for the Weary Voyager

[thewornoutandtired]

Teratophilia: Sirens

As our ship neared the island, the captain warned us to plug our ears. He said he wouldn’t be sending any of his own men to come save us if we didn’t listen. The sirens were dangerous, and would surely bring death to whomever listened to their song.

I had my own theories about the sirens, however, and deemed not to cover my ears. Even if I did wind up stranded, ships passed by this area with rather alarming regularity considering how dangerous it was. I figured that I could survive that long, provided that I wasn’t drowned or eaten alive by the very creatures I was hoping to see.

When we were within range of the song, the effects were immediate. I was out on the deck, leaning on the railing and hoping to spot them through the mist surrounding the island. For a split second, I thought I caught a strange looking shadow in the gloom, but I wasn’t sure enough to call it for what it was.

The song appeared out of nowhere, promising me fame and power if I could only reach them and slay them. While their voices were pleasant, I had no desire to do such a thing, and I was able to resist the compulsion. They sang about the money and wealth that had been amassed on their island next, and that didn’t truly sway me either. It was when their song turned to promises of love, of caring, of being cherished, that I found myself leaping overboard without a second thought.

For someone as afraid of the ocean as I am, there was no fear in my heart as I began to swim through the waves. The sirens’ call seemed to change direction, with me following close behind it. In the still-conscious part of my brain, I took notice that they were leading me away from shipwrecks.

When I reached the sirens, they stopped singing just long enough for me to recognize that they had. The sirens looked precisely as the stories has said, birds with the faces of beautiful women, but with monstrous mouths full of sharp teeth. While I wasn’t upset by their appearance to begin with, as they started to sing again they were suddenly the most beautiful creatures in existence.

Their song changed tone slightly now that I stood before them. They were still singing about wanting to take care of me, but there was an undertone in it that wasn’t there before. Before I could even realize what was happening, I was undressing.

The sirens didn’t seem to have much desire in doing it themselves, instead telling me what they wanted me to do. I was sat down on the rocks in front of them, my legs spread wide in front of them all. In spite of the spell on me, I blushed from the intensity of their stares. It felt like I was being inspected by them, until finally they told me to start touching myself.

I was completely under their control as they treated me like an experiment. They constantly had me change positions, speed, and where I was touching myself. They seemed to enjoy my whining as I got close, as they’d wait until I was almost over the line and then make me completely stop. They did it over and over again, and I could feel myself losing more and more control each time. By the time they mercifully let me finish, I could barely even think strait. As I laid there, trying to remember my own name, I heard them start singing again.

They had me clean myself up, not wasting a single drop, then went about seeing how else they could bring me over the edge again. When they asked me where I was most sensitive, I answered before I could even think about it, like I had been given a truth serum. They seemed thrilled at that aspect of their spell, and proceeded to make me admit even more to them: fantasies, fears, and loves, nothing was off limits.

By the time they finished using the knowledge I had given them against me, I was too exhausted to even move. I was completely spent, and had finished dry several times. Even their song couldn’t rouse movement from me, and their singing changed again. The flow of irresistible orders faded, and a new chorus began.

They sang about making good on their words, how they would take care of me. The cleaned me off before snuggling in against me. I thought they were arguing about which one of them my head would rest on, but I was barely conscious enough to hear them at all. They gave me one last order, which I would have followed even without a spell underlying it.

“Sleep, little one.”

When I woke next, I was in a nest surrounded by bird women. According to them, I had started shivering from the cold night air and the ocean breeze, and they piled onto me to keep me warm. It had worked, and they were every bit as thrilled as I was. They said they would take care of me until the next ship came by, but that I couldn’t stay forever. When I asked them why, they didn’t answer, but that was okay. I told them I was theirs until then.

We lived peacefully for a while. They treated me like a toy at times, like a pet at others. Once they learned that I obeyed orders regardless, they started singing only when they wanted to see me do something for their enjoyment. They’d use me to their own satisfaction, whatever that was, then clean me and put me to bed.

It was a wonderful time, but I had to leave eventually.

The goodbye was tearful, and I told them that I would stop again if I was ever near this place again. They wished me well before commanding me to swim for the passing ship. The captain was shocked to see me, but was kind enough to clothe me and offer me space if I’d work off my debt. By the time we reached landfall, I had written the entirety of my adventure down.

There was a  reason those that survived the sirens claimed they were very kind and nurturing.

#writing #creative writing #terato #monster fucker #monster lover #monster romance #teratophillia #lemon #hitting the classic warnings with this one

[getluckylana]

need the summer outfit plans pls, your new style is everything, us girls love it!

2024 Early Spring Trend Forecast

This season is going to give toned down coquette on the bodice, Y2K bellow the waist, on the feet, and perched on the shoulder in form of your besties beloved pet cat.

In the next few months your instagram feed will increasingly fill with grown woman sporting sailor themed ensembles. Yes, Like the ones you wore for photo day in pre-school. This is where the toned down coquette comes into play for the season. I also foresee lots of Peter Pan style collars and neck lines. It’s all about the baby doll, and growing up your girlish childhood favorites. Paired with Mary Janes or riding boots. The girls will also be sporting victorian style accessories, like bonnets, bibs and spats.

Prints and colors? Polka dots, rain jacket yellow, pastel and deep shades of purple, green, and blue paired playfully to make a monocromatic masterpiece, sweaters with equestian or floral embroidery, opt for a sheer fabric, nipples and well groomed pubic hair is in, and the fashionable girlies will have it on display.

Children’s wear/Skipper doll/Y2k mix bellow the waist, capri’s are hot, Bubble skirts are hot, vintage cheer skirts are hot, and we still like skirts over pants this year, trade in your Adidas track pants for Adidas track capri’s to be more on trend.

We’ll be incorporating YTK into our bags, and shoes this season. I’ve seen other reports that we will be Jane Birkinfying our bags again, but we already did that. Instead we will be doing insanely fun bags, and shoes strait out of the 2000’s. Check out pic’s bellow for ideas.

Keep but switch it up! “Siren core” glasses are getting tired, dilute them for translucent frames of similar shapes or round frames in any color you want.

Hot Depop sections to browse are “$20 and under” and “elevate your look” but avoid fast fashion brands like Shein ect and opt for vintage pieces made out of higher quality fabrics.

The key to styling every outfit is contrast, if you pick a coquette top, do a simple bottom, and a Y2K shoe or bag. You never want the whole outfit to be one aesthetic it will make you look tacky, and separates a well dressed person from the rest.

[batvvvvv]

"and this has nothing to do with the plume of smoke rising from... oh, just about where your lab was, last i checked?" "shut the fuck up"

our plot begins on edward's doorstep! i'm still trying to figure out how i want to format all of this so um... bare with me! but this is what i'm doing for now because i don't have the patience for comics. story introduction below !!

after the world ended (not actually; although gotham had collapsed into ruin, the rest of the world was quite content ignoring their existence. let the city eat itself alive, they reasoned, and the problem would solve itself.) edward found himself incredibly, mind-numbingly bored. with everyone making chaos and scrambling for power, there’s no audience to his crime, and no payoff. money is obsolete, he already has all the power he needs with essentially a monopoly on tech and repair, and there’s no thrill of the chase without a functioning gcpd. he needs someone to BOTHER.

and who better than his old friend (read: guy who wants him dead) jonathan crane to bother while everything else goes to shit! so he heads over to jonathan's last known residence and proposes an alliance. jon tells him where he can stick it, and slams the door in his face.

then, about a week later, jonathan's entire laboratory is blown sky-high. jon has no idea who did it, (a lot of people hate him enough for that) and if ed has a clue he's not going to say a word. but nonetheless jonathan is now homeless and in dire straits! all of his supplies were destroyed, half of his work didn't make it out of the fire, and they're having a pretty bad goddamn day, alright, so their judgement isn't the greatest right now!

his first thought is the sirens. ivy is pretty much his only friend in gotham, but the sirens are at full occupancy right now with plenty of their own problems to solve, and jon knows ivy: she'll just tell him to suck it up and figure it out

again, no one else in the city likes him, so he's pretty much out of luck. until he remembers a... certain someone. and jon hates the idea. he really, really hates it. but they're down on their luck and if they want a chance at finding their footing and saving what's left of their hard work, they need a place to stay, and fast.

so he shows up covered in ash on edward nygma's doorstep, to request a second chance at that offer. edward laughs in his face, obviously, but lets him in nonetheless! he reasons that he could use the entertainment around the house, anyway.

neither of them have any idea what they're getting themselves into, but don't worry! the horrors are just around the corner <3

#first plot post everyone cheer #i mean not technically since it precedes the plot but it's necessary info and it counts #can't say anything about the frequency of these posts. midterms are coming up soon for me #so as always. Who Knows #but i'm excited to keep working on this :D #batman au #batman v #edward nygma #jonathan crane #riddler dc #scarecrow dc #scriddler #technically? they're here and it'll happen eventually #batman v plot #i guess i should tag that too for organization purposes

[girlactionfigure]

*ISRAEL REALTIME* - "Connecting the World to Israel in Realtime"

HAPPY CHANUKAH !!! Chanukah night 7 TONIGHT 🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎

◾️MORE SHIP ATTACKS BY THE HOUTHIS… a Marshall islands-flagged chemical tanker reported an "exchange of fire" with a speedboat 55 nautical miles (around 102 kilometres) off Yemen.  A speedboat with armed men aboard approached two vessels transiting off the coast of Yemen's Red Sea port of Hodeidah.  (AP) the Houthis launched two missiles at a commercial ship in the Bab al-Mandab Strait but missed, according to US officials. An American vessel intercepted another drone launched by the Houthis. (The ship that the Houthis tried to hit is the Ardmore Encounter tanker that carries the flag of the Marshall Islands.

Also reports of a shipping attack on the other Yemen coast near Oman.  Quickly becoming a major disruption to world shipping.

◾️THE TOLL… we previously reported on 8 lost in battle, two more are reported killed yesterday as well - the worst day since the first day of the war.  https://www.timesofisrael.com/ten-soldiers-including-two-senior-officers-killed-in-gaza-fighting-and-deadly-ambush/

◾️JENIN… (Arab city, West Bank, terror center)  Firefights with IDF forces still going on, day and half continuous.

◾️FALSE ALERT - MODI’IN MACCABIM REUT… siren alert malfunction.  Homefront Command is working to fix.

◾️INCREASING RESERVE AGE… the Ministry of Defense distributed a memorandum of law to increase the exemption age from reserve service to be raised in order to prevent damage to the IDF's combat capability in the midst of war. According to the plan, the exemption age will be increased by one year for regular soldiers, officers and certain positions. 

◾️GAZA, WEAPONS EVERYWHERE (no innocent / civilian spaces)… Lt. Col. Oz, Nahal's 931st Brigade: We entered about 500 houses in Jabaliya. In 90% of them we found weapons, inside wardrobes, in the kitchen, in UNWRA sacks and under babies' beds. There were grenades, weapons, guns, rifles, RPGs and many other weapons.  We arrived at the mosque, which apparently looked innocent. When we broke the door on the third floor, we were surprised to discover an advanced combat space there: they built a training facility there, like we train in the bases, they managed to build it in the mosque! We killed more than ten terrorists there.

◾️SOLDIERS MOTHER’S SAY… ( https://m.facebook.com/Mothers.Soldier ) "Our sons in battle, not Biden's son or Blinken's son - our soldier's life comes before the enemy's citizens.”  Ilanit Dedosh, mother of a commander in Golani "Don't be influenced by foreign considerations - bomb from above.” 

“We are in the most just war, against a cruel enemy who slaughtered, raped, massacred babies, women and hundreds of our brothers and sisters. We must trample him, and kill them to the last - and not stop until victory! We call on the IDF and the government - do not endanger our soldiers without a real operational need, do not put before your eyes any other consideration, not legal, not humanitarian or international pressure, Our sons are the ones in battle, not Biden's son nor Blinken's son, tell everyone in a clear voice - the lives of our soldiers come before the citizens of the enemy. We as mothers will not accept any risk to our soldiers that is not from operational considerations only. Loving, trusting, and strong - we are behind you! Fight until victory!" added the mothers.  “You promised that you would not surrender and that you would not change the plan of action, do not endanger fighters in vain!”

#Israel #October 7 #hamas Massacre #Iron Sword #Realtime Updates

[bardic-inspo]

Midnight Chimes

Chapter Two: Moths to Flame

Pairing: Astarion x Cursed! Tav

✨Full Chapter List ✨BG3 Fic Masterlist ✨

Series Summary:

It’s easier for Astarion to believe Naomi tastes so sweet because she was his first. Easier to ignore the fact that every undead in vague proximity yearns for the same blood that’s sated him night after night. Easier to pretend her music is arcane as any other bard’s, and not divine enough to wake corpses from the dirt. Easier to pretend Naomi is simply a bard, and not something more akin to a siren. One that's slowly realized she's not just another sailor, after all. Easier to bury the fact that he's already stupidly in love with her. Like she wouldn't just raise that out of the ground, too. A curse rears its head. A devil comes calling. Astarion fights for his freedom from Cazador. He and the rest of their merry little band fight to save Tav from the doom she feels she's fated for.

Chapter Preview:

“Have I left you speechless?” Astarion laughs like the sound of tinkling chimes. “No need to be shy, darling. It’s stunning. Truly.” “I thought you quite loathed me,” she says coolly. No matter how sweet he sounds, there’s still a sharpness to his stare that warns of claws. Maybe that’s why she hasn't moved an inch since she’s seen him.

Chapter CW: Minor/Supporting character death.

A/N: Cross-posting from AO3. Dividers by @cafekitsune.

✨ Click here if you prefer to read on AO3 ✨

“If I knew you’d be playing the role of dead weight, I would’ve left you for dead on the side of that road!”

If Astarion saved even half his venom for the gnolls tearing down this road, maybe they wouldn’t be in such dire straits.

Nevermind that Naomi and Shadowheart would’ve told Astarion to beat it before he could take another slice with that knife of his. The party’s Most Valuable Cleric isn’t exactly leaping to Naomi’s defense at the moment. As it is, none of them have much of a defense left at all.

Snapping jaws clamp to Shadowheart’s shield and drag, shunting it sideways. Magic flares, bright and scalding, from the half-elf’s hands. A screech shreds the air, the acrid stench of singed fur burning in Naomi’s nose. But the gnolls’ incessant cackling doesn’t falter.

Shadowheart stumbles backward with wet, slapping steps. “A little help, here!” She grunts through gritted teeth.

Karlach heeds her plea, flames leaping to life across her flesh. She swings her axe in a wide arc, but the gnolls jerk backwards and the blade only breezes over air. Their foes slink into a circle around her and Shadowheart, spitting.

Sweat beads across Naomi’s brow. She clutches the silver symbol chained around her neck -- an elven dancer, poised with a sword. Come on. Come on!

Silver flame snaps at the heels of a slavering gnoll. But it snuffs soon after it sparks. Harmless as a sneeze. Slitted eyes lock to hers. Maddening laughter mingles with a low, guttural growl.

“That’s it?!” Astarion’s exasperation hits a new octave. “That’s your contribution?!”

Naomi’s chest heaves. She drops back into cover behind the overturned cart, shoulder brushing Astarion’s bristling one. An arrow hisses past her ear. The ground sizzles where it splatters on impact, bare inches from her feet. Something snaps free beneath her ribs, like a breaking bowstring.

Nevermind all of this cleric shit, actually.

“Fuck it!” She snarls.

“Oh now, you’re throwing in the towel?” Astarion seethes. He nocks another arrow and shifts to shoot. “I was sure you’d set fire to it al--”

For a sparse, sacred second, Astarion’s livid glare gives way to eyes blown wide as moons. They track the quivering mote of magic hanging a breath from his nose as it steers an arrow safely past instead of through him. Even after the flute leaves Naomi’s lips, the hum sticks on her skin like static. His jaw drops slack, anger melted to awe. What started as a shout ends in a whisper only she can hear.

“--ready.”

Noise rushes in again. Karlach rushes the opening and arcs down with her axe. The gnoll cleaves. The weapon wrenches back with a sickening crunch. Blood splatters the dirt in webby strings.

Naomi pivots, forgoing cover and for the flute pressed close. Magic shivers across her lips, like the gentle caress of a lover. She shudders. The tremor builds, barreling down her neck, raising hairs in its wake, running through her ribs, to her feet, until the ground itself is shaking. A storm of claws rains from overhead as the gnolls lunge towards her. Thunder pulses from where she stands, sudden as a snap of fingers.

The gnolls fall, backs slapping sand. Heat lashes near Naomi’s cheek. Karlach swings again and makes a mess of them. The road’s a river of red, vined in viscera.

It’s over. But it isn’t quiet. A chorus of breath that can’t be caught aches in Naomi’s ears. Her heartbeat’s a rampant drum, pounding next to a melody that plays faintly in her mind. She can’t quite grasp the tune. But it lingers all the same, like a bruise she doesn’t remember earning.

She’s earned someone’s ire, apparently. Astarion’s glare comes to life once more with murderous vengeance. “You’re a fucking bard?! This whole time, you-- I fucking knew it!”

By the time they trudge back to camp -- beaten, bloody, but still breathing in spite of it all-- Astarion’s changed his tune.

“Well, well,” he tuts with a devilish gleam in his eye, “someone’s been holding out on us.”

Naomi trains her attention to the task at hand -- dinner. The meat starts to sizzle on its skewer. Not so different from those scarlet eyes searing into the back of her head. But other stares join Astarion’s, morphing into shadows cast long from the firelight. She doesn’t need to turn her cheek to know they’re waiting. All of them, at this point.

One of them isn’t so content to continue doing so.

“So, it seems that while you’re an absolutely abysmal cleric, you’re not a bad bard. I’d say I underestimated you,” Astarion muses dryly, “but given the evidence, I don’t know what other conclusion I could’ve drawn. Whatever else you are, you’re quite a good liar. Aren’t you?”

She spares him a sideways glance to find his arms crossed. Astarion doesn’t wait, he demands. An answer, attention, satisfaction. The rest of their crew beg the same, but they have the decency to do so in blessed silence.

It’s a virtue that eludes her, even as she tries to seek its sanctuary. Naomi rubs her throbbing temples. Still, the ringing in her ears doesn’t stifle. It prickles in the depths of her memory, in a melody both foreign and familiar. Gods, how does it go again?

Astarion clears his throat, expectant.

Naomi sighs tightly. “And I suppose that wounds you, you open, bleeding book.”

His cover hasn’t opened an inch in the weeks since their second meeting. Third, technically, if you count his apparent sighting of her on the nautiloid. But she’s seen enough to be sure it is a cover.

After all, she first saw ‘mister boring magistrate’ fishing in the Flophouse. As far as she could tell from her brief residency there, Fraygo’s housed foreigners, passersby, and people who wanted to rob them. If Astarion’s from the Gate as he says, it leaves little wonder as to what category he’d fall in.

“Ha!” His laughter comes pitchy. “On the contrary, I’m thoroughly entertained. I suppose that’s what a bard’s good for.”

Naomi’s jaw shifts, but before she can parry his backhanded commentary, a gentler voice enters the fray.

“We’ve all got our stories, our secrets, and our reasons for them,” Wyll interjects. “You don’t owe us every one of yours. But we do deserve to know where your loyalties lie.”

Naomi winces. The fire’s spitting, but it somehow stings far less than the warlock with the heart of gold wondering where her heart is at.

Astarion scoffs, hands shifting to his hips. “More importantly, I need to know you’re not holding back when you’re supposed to be watching my back!”

“Why were you?” Shadowheart’s voice cuts in, cool as steel. “Holding back?”

Naomi’s eyes flit to Shadowheart’s scar, so similar to the one Naomi has across her own nose. Her fingers twitch. She buries the urge to reach up to her own face to trace the shape of the scrape. Why were you holding back?

It didn’t end well the last time she played, she could say. Or at least, the last time she sang. She could say, ‘superstition’. But either way, she’d have to say so much more.

“It’s been a while since I played,” she settles on instead. “I grew up in an Eilistraeean temple, in an opening to the Underdark. Before all of this, I hadn’t ventured very far out onto the surface. I was only just starting to. This little adventure has been…strange in so many senses.”

Wyll’s expression softens. “You thought your goddess would protect you.”

Sure. Close enough. Naomi takes the cue, smiles sadly, and nods. Astarion spoils the moment with some strangled sound between a laugh and a snort. Like a dying horse.

A hand cuffs her shoulder. Naomi stiffens for a second before easing again. Gale kneels down beside her, plucking the skewer from between her fingers. An act of mercy, it turns out. She blinks, now noticing the blackened meat that’s been right in front of her and in the flames for far too long.

Oh. Naomi’s lips twitch ruefully. Crispy.

“A bard’s magic is arcane,” Gale says, taking a knife to carve off the worst of the char. “But we’ve all seen you wield divine power. Your goddess must still favor you.”

“Hardly,” Astarion mutters, faint with dwindling interest. He’s drifted halfway back to his tent, though his ears stay perked.

Gale arches a brow. “A great deal, I’d wager. Most deities are not so content to play ‘second fiddle’, so to speak. If a god gifts you powers, they usually expect you’ll use them effectively.”

“I swear I really am better with a fiddle,” Naomi says, sheepish.

“You’d be better at banging pots and pans than with sacred flame,” Shadowheart laughs without malice. “You’re not bad at healing, though.”

“Ouch,” Naomi pans. “I think I might need some.”

The wizard needs a more intellectual peace of mind, it seems. Their banter only deepens Gale’s worry lines.

“Eilistraee is the Dark Dancer,” Naomi tells him. “She’s a goddess of freedom, and music, and, well, dancing. She’d never punish me for this.”

She wouldn’t. Naomi swallows hard. Would she?

“If anything,” she says, shrugging her shoulders back, “she’s probably as relieved as the lot of you look.”

Gale nods, saying nothing, but thinking loud enough for Naomi to hear him without the help of the tadpole. He’s caught on something, like a gear that won’t budge. She teeths her cheek, pondering what has him hung up, when fresh heat prickles her skin.

Her eyes dart to the campfire, but Gale has it neatly tamed. It’s Karlach that’s crackling. The tiefling saunters up behind them.

“So, new you,” Karlach says, eyes alight with mischief, “what other tricks have you got up your sleeve?”

Before she can entertain an answer, Gale gives her one.

“I’m formally usurping you from dinner duties,” he says warmly. “My first command with my newfound authority is for you to regale us with song while I rescue our sustenance.”

Naomi offers an easy smile. “Your wish is my command, oh benevolent one.”

Naomi frees the flute from the fastenings at her belt, lifts the hollowed bone to her lips, and lets her breath flow. Music flows with it, playful and springy. It floods their little clearing in the woods, hushing the sounds of scurrying creatures.

Is this how it goes? No.

It’s not the melody haunting her head, but for a few moments’ time, she doesn’t feel so trapped in there. Vaguely, she feels her comrades watching her again as she plays, but as the music carries through the camp, it carries her mind away from them. Carries her away from tadpoles and gnolls and concerns of certain doom. They’re all fading sparks, drifting into nightfall. To dust, they all return.

Until her wandering, distant gaze meets a vermillion one, and it pins her back to the present. Astarion peers at her over a page he's no longer pretending to read. He’s got that look again, the one he wore when she cast cutting words and cast away the arrow intent on his demise. Such round eyes, softened in surprise. But they narrow, knife-like, a second later, as soon as he sees he’s been seen.

A sly smile curls over Astarion’s lips as her song bends with the smoke from the cookfire. It’s a small victory, maybe, but she’s not sure if it's his or hers.

The song dwindles. Naomi spies another set of glittering eyes that send her stomach plummeting. Lae’zel doesn’t just stare. She’s stabbing Naomi, surely, in some spiritual sense if not a literal one. Must not be keen on bards.

Naomi sets the flute away again. Karlach clears her throat pointedly.

“Erm, don’t take this the wrong way -- not that that wasn’t very lovely! It was! I was just wondering, do you have anymore, you know, fighting tricks?”

Naomi shrugs. “I can cast ‘stab’ as a cantrip.”

“You--”

The bugbear snarls through his teeth.

“--ruined--”

He grips the morningstar like a vice, taking swing to Astarion’s head. Still, snickers spill in a fountain from the elf’s lips. He can’t stem his tide of laughter. Not since they burst into the barn and found the bugbear and the ogre fucking over a haystack.

The flute fucks the bugbear, instead. The morningstar glances, harmless, over and above Astarion’s carefully coiffed curls.

“--my--”

Splinters burst from the board the bugbear breaks instead of the Gale he intended to. The flute screws him again.

“--rutting!”

And again. He’s left panting, winded, and dearly wanting.

“Oh that’s what that was supposed to be?” Naomi huffs. “Sounded like you stubbed a toe.” Her eyes drop to his bare member, still bared for all to see. “It looks like a stubby toe.”

That hit landed. She can see it in the crazed gleam that bulges in his eyes. The morningstar thumps, forgotten, at his furred feet. The bugbear lunges. The flute flies from her fingertips and crunches to ruin between his jaws. He spits out the pieces like loose teeth.

Naomi lets out a deflated groan. “See, this is why I didn’t pack the fucking fiddle.”

“Not so tricksy now!” He laughs darkly, lips parted in a too-wide grin.

Her back smacks boards. Hot, rancid breath clouds her cheek as the bugbear looms, boxing her in. Only for a moment. Naomi spies a tell-tale shimmer behind the bugbear’s back.

“Oh no,” she says with a smirk. “Now I’m much worse.”

Astarion’s knife sinks in. Blood sprays in a warm, wet rain across her neck. The bugbear’s face twists with the blade.

Her lips pucker, and a high, wavering whistle whisks her away. Mist shrouds her shoes as she fades. Naomi emerges again above the fray, poised on the junction of beams crossing beneath the pitched roof. A low woosh chases after her. Astarion unfurls from the fog on the beam’s other end, the soles of his boots glowing briefly blue.

He sets his sights on their larger quarry. Karlach’s kept the ogre at bay, but the beast bears down, relentless with fists and fury. Gale gives them a wide berth, working glittering fractals out of the air with a flourish and a biting incantation. Frost fans from his outstretched palms. His spell paints an ice slick beneath the ogre’s fumbling feet. Down she goes. Naomi braces against the aftershock. Debris patters her shoulders as the whole barn rattles.

Karlach tumbles down, too. The tiefling buckles, hissing as she grips the gash in her arm. Naomi’s whistle keens sweeter. When Karlach draws her hand away again, the wound’s drawn closed.

An arrow flits past her cheek. Naomi turns to see Astarion easing from his stance as the ogre breathes her last. Her one-time lover’s still stubbornly holding onto his, though.

A gargled cry echoes from down below. Naomi watches the wounded bugbear crawling among the scattered straw. Pitiful.

“Hey!” She calls. “Up here!”

His neck cranes, wild eyes burning at the sight of her overhead. Naomi’s tongue lies heavy in her mouth. The words are stones. She casts them with a pair of fingers. Middle ones, raised in turn.

“Up. Yours.”

Green light floods his skull, seeping from his eyes sockets, gushing from his lips. He shudders. And then he wilts, limp and lifeless.

He’s hardly mourned. Astarion’s breathy laughter spurts out of him, unbidden.

“That actually killed him?” He beams, but his eyes are dark and his voice scrapes low. “Oh, you’re an absolute menace.”

The praise rings in her ear. Like temple chimes. Or warning bells. Or, something else. A song, maybe. She can’t pin it down.

Sea spray slaps the cliffside near the coast, but it doesn’t drown the peeling cry of a lute plucked to misery. A shrill chorus comes with it. Naomi grimaces.

“Is that meant to be music?” Lae’zel’s face wrinkles in disgust.

“I didn’t think you knew the meaning,” Naomi mutters, picking her way up the slope.

“Likewise,” Lae’zel grumbles.

“It’s quite agonizing, isn’t it?” Astarion groans.

The culprit comes into view as they crest the hill. She’s a tiefling woman with violet skin and flowing hair decked in motley. A pretty picture of what a bard should be, if she wasn’t wilted over her own instrument.

“It’s-- it’s just stuck,” Naomi sighs, shaking her head.

The tiefling shoots a wary glance her way. “You’re right. But how did you know?”

“Besides the fact that poor lute is crying out for mercy?”

“Ugh. I know I’m butchering it with this stupid song,” the tiefling mutters, burying her head in her hands.

“It’s not stupid. It’s just…stuck,” Naomi says again. Like the sudden lump in Naomi’s throat that thickens, and doesn’t budge. She coughs to clear it, but the pressure remains. “Let’s start with the lyrics.”

But it doesn’t stop there. By sundown, Alfira’s pitched a tent in their camp and taken refuge by the fire. Her music’s mournful, but hopeful. Happy in the sad way of something good that’s happened before. But now, it’s done with.

Gale balks as Naomi reaches to stir the stew. She’s shooed off unceremoniously. Forever banned from dinner duty, it seems.

She paces, purposeless. Fluteless. Fidgeting. Cursed with idle hands. At least a devil’s workshop might put them to use. Sounds productive. This dwelling certainly isn’t.

What use is it, thinking about the Doom again? The tadpole is already in her brain. Doesn’t mean it has to be so incessantly on it.

And of course, their only hope, Halsin the druid, had to find himself in the middle of a goblin fortress. Something, someday should be easy. If it isn’t any of this. Tomorrow, they’ll attempt extraction. Which means tonight, there’s no use being sick about it.

But her ears are still ringing. Someone hands her stew. She sips it halfheartedly, and sets the rest away to cool indefinitely.

“Won’t you share a song of yours?” Alfira says some time later, with a pitying sort of smile.

Naomi sits on the stumps with her, heaving a weighty sigh. “Who’s to say I have any? You said yourself, you haven’t heard of me.”

“You helped me find the words for my music well enough. You’ve got something stuck, too. Don’t you?”

Naomi frowns. Yes, something stuck something awful. A little worm, wreaking havoc in her head. Among other things. Or, maybe the obvious thing is the only thing. Side effects of side-stepping ceremorphosis for too long.

Alfira shifts her lute in her lap. “How about I play, and you sing it if you know it?”

The first chord thrums. Naomi feels it stir beneath her sternum. Feels the shrill ache leave her ears at last. This isn’t what’s stuck. But, maybe it’s part of it. Her eyes slide shut, as if to sleep.

Naomi knows it. She knows the first note catches in her throat before it comes free, but she frees it anyway. She feels the butterfly fear flutter in her gut, and sings, still.

“Bare feet along the coast

Sand swallows the steps we’ve tread before

But you’ve made your mark

Like the silver tide that sunders the shore

Breaking waves and carving cliffs

Yielding to the sweeping sea

In the salt and in the stone

You’ve made your mark on me…”

It’s been a long time, she thinks, as the final verse closes, and silence comes again. It’s been a long time since she sang.

It’s about time. It was all a long time ago. It hasn’t happened since. It doesn’t have to happen again.

And it felt good. She lets out a long breath that drifts like a ghost. Gods, it felt good. She peels her nose to the simmering stars, shoulder blades sinking back and down.

Naomi blinks. She didn’t realize how much time slipped from her, sitting here, as the embers withered down to smoke plumes. She’s the only one that remains to keep the crickets company. Soft snores and sounds of slumber flit across the camp. Naomi stands, stiffness prickling in her legs.

“Quite the view. Isn’t it?”

Not alone, after all. She pivots, pulse kicking only to tumble right back down again.

“Astarion! You’re--”

Lounging. Just a few feet away. He lies with his arms propping his back, head tilted towards the sky, just as hers was. Basking. Moonlight melts in his curls and leaves a sheen on his cheeks. He looks made of marble; sharp edges lining supple muscle and smooth skin.

“I didn’t know you were there,” she finishes lamely.

“My apologies for startling you,” he says, not seeming sorry at all. “You seemed lost in thought. I found myself in much the same state. Reflecting on what tomorrow might bring when we find this druid.” His expression shifts, smirk fading with his brow bending in. “Will he know how to bring the tadpole under control? Will this little adventure of ours be over?”

“Honestly? I…” Naomi trails off, toying with the notion. Honesty hasn’t been her strong suit. So far. She takes a stab at it, anyway. “I doubt there’s a simple solution to something that’s so fucked to begin with.”

Astarion cocks his head. “You’re not one for faith, are you? I suppose that makes us kindred spirits. Perhaps that’s the real reason why you couldn’t keep with the cleric routine.”

The barb doesn’t feel like one, said so gently.

“You have a lovely voice, you know,” he says, soft as silk. “I hope this isn’t the only chance I’ll get to hear it.”

It might be. Naomi swallows, but her throat’s grown dry as a desert.

“Have I left you speechless?” He laughs like the sound of tinkling chimes. “No need to be shy, darling. It’s stunning. Truly.”

“I thought you quite loathed me,” she says coolly.

No matter how sweet he sounds, there’s still a sharpness to his stare that warns of claws. Maybe that’s why she hasn't moved an inch since she’s seen him.

“Not quite,” he says with a shake of his head. “I quite like what little of ‘you’ I’ve gotten to see. Better than whatever you were pretending to be. I’d like to see more of the real you, however tomorrow unfolds.”

So that’s what he means. He doesn’t want this to be an end. Naomi tilts her head. Why?

He stands in a lithe motion, fluid as a brushstroke. “And you’d like to see more of what the surface has to offer, I’m sure. I promise it’s not all illithids and imminent doom. There’s beauty here, if you know where to find it.” He drifts a step closer. And then another. “Art. Poetry. Music.”

Every word is crooned in a low timbre with a rasp at the edge. They sound like songs, the way he says them. Brimming with depths unknown and promises just below the surface. Same as his eyes, alight with an agenda she can’t quite clock.

Same as that night at the Flophouse, where she couldn’t shake his stare. What would’ve happened if something else hadn’t almost happened? What would he have done, if she came as close as they are now?

She should know better, now. He’s nearer than he’s ever been, aside from the times they’ve brushed by each other during their brushes with danger. And he’s pretty to listen to. A red flag all on its own. She should know that, at least.

“Alfira had it right, didn’t she?” Astarion says with a lift at the corner of his mouth. “You were stuck. And now you’re…” He closes his fingers to his palms and opens them again, casting them down to his sides. “...free as a bird.”

“And it suits you,” he says, wetting his lips. His gaze dips down and lingers for a moment before it fixes hers again. “This little transformation of yours.”

Noise rips to life in her ears. Naomi’s palms fly to her temples and press. But it doesn’t drown out. Bile burns the back of her throat. She spies a blur, shifting past Astarion’s shoulder.

“What is that?” She pants. “Alfira?”

Her pulse sprints. Panic pours adrenaline in her veins. Alfira’s tent is torn. Ribbons of it billow in the breeze. The stench of rot rolls with it. Naomi recoils. Not again. No.

There’s a shape, in the dark. Wet, like a puddle. Crumpled. Breaking, under gnashing teeth.

And another figure, hunched over the first. Pale. Spindly. Bony.

Astarion doesn’t budge. His brow wrinkles, annoyance cracking his facade. “I don’t hear--”

But the dead do. The creature’s head rolls upright with a sickening snap. The brush comes alive in sudden cacophonous clatter.

Astarion moves when she makes him. Naomi shoves his shoulders with as much force as she can muster. “Astarion -- look out!”

“Well,” Astarion says, with a hint of a smile and reproach in equal measure. “Looks like someone’s finally decided to rejoin the living.”

Naomi finds him with one knee propped, an arm draped over it, and his other leg dangling over the low stonework on the side of the bridge. A creek babbles beneath their feet. His knife glints by the barest light of the slivered moon, flipping once more before he stows it.

“I slept?” She asks, though she knows the answer.

“Like the dead,” he replies, with a smile that’s grown. It doesn’t match the flicker of worry that darts through his eyes, rabbit-quick, and then gone. Quick as Naomi’s heartbeat, still hammering. “Did you dream?”

“Mhm,” Naomi hums, forlorn. “Spiders again.” She saunters over to sit upon the stone beside him, swinging both legs over the side of the wall and letting them hang.

“Hm. Considering our daily dose of the macabre, perhaps that means it was a pleasant one, compared to what it could’ve been.”

The fire snaps behind them, festering in its final death throes. When she glances back at it, over her shoulder, there’s no flames to be seen. Only a flurry of sparks, bursting to fleeting life on a wayward breeze. The campsite’s quiet as the grave without another soul stirring.

In darkest night, she and Astarion can see better than most others in their camp. It used to irk him, getting voluntold for this shift of watch. He prefers to see the sunrise. But then, he decided, all on his own, he’d rather see the stars with her. So, he’d abandoned Gale’s educational company for finer sorts. His words, not hers.

There isn’t much to see, though. Even the moon’s turned her cheek, showing only a glimpse of it. Naomi scans the cliffs, surveying either end of their chokepoint on the road cutting through them. Not many places to run, should they find themselves surrounded. But there’s not many threats they wouldn’t see coming from up here.

Baldur’s Gate is still three sleeps away. Though, Naomi will take the trance for them, instead. If she has any say in it. She hadn’t meant to sleep at all, let alone into the start of her watch.

“I promise no more corpses came calling,” Astarions says with a searching gaze. “No more curses, and no more hungry shadows.”

Naomi’s attention follows the slope of own arm, to her palm, splayed, on the stone. No more spell stains on her skin, either. For now. Still, her gaze lingers, until a paler hand comes to lie over hers.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” He murmurs.

Naomi swallows, but finds herself suddenly parched. For water. For words.

“Oh, don’t hurt yourself, dear,” he sighs, but it’s soft. “I think I can hear it well enough without the worm. You don’t think expunging a centuries-old darkness did the trick.”

Naomi dares a glance upwards. He speaks reassurance in the language of skepticism. But she catches a glimpse of anxiety again, passing like a phantom on his face before fading.

“You don’t think saving a cleric of Selune, rescuing the actual divine daughter of Selune, or wrenching Shadowheart from Shar’s grip exorcized any of your own demons.” He clicks his tongue. “Even though you killed a lot of already dead people.”

Astarion leans in, stoking familiar, feather-light anticipation in her gut. He stops as they come nearly nose-to-nose. Farther than her lips would like, but near enough to read her mind. “You need to be sure.”

“If I can be,” she says, weaker than she means to.

Gooseflesh wakes on her skin, brought to life by Astarion raising only a finger. His nail drags, just sharp enough to be sweet, up the column of her throat, sending a shiver down Naomi’s spine. His index presses beneath her chin, and lifts.

“Then sing for me.”

He didn’t ask for a frail whisper, but it’s all she has left to offer. “What do you want to hear?”

Just one finger, one little motion. And she’d offer him anything. He knows it. He has to know it.

“One of your songs,” he says at once. “The one you sang at Last Light.”

He knows exactly what he wants. Naomi’s chin still rests on his fingertip, but barely so, on a barely-there touch. Only her feet hang loose, but the whole of her feels weightless.

“I sang a lot of songs at Last Light,” she says, clearing the husk in her throat.

A pout wrinkles his perfection. “You know the one.”

A wry smile steals across her face. He knows it, too. Even though she hasn’t sung it since. His finger leaves her chin with a flick as the first note leaves her lips.

“When she laid her gaze on me

What I knew of warmth melted

Into honey-covered and sticky-sweet

Incessant, yearning, burning heat…”

And when she laid her gaze on me

I felt myself undone

For whatever I had been before

Was gone to dust forevermore…”

She sings it in elvish, the way she wrote it. She sings about a girl’s first time in the sun. About a silly little drow who confused freckles for death pox. It starts sweet. Hopeful. And then it aches with a swell.

Astarion draws his dagger, and draws watchful eyes over their surroundings.

“But when I stumbled back to shadowed halls

And gazed upon a looking glass

I found not love, but scalding sin

Written on my very skin…”

Whatever I had been before

Whatever I might have lived to be

Was gone to dust forevermore

The sunlight scorched the life from me...”

I drew my fists and damned her name

But still I bore my grief and shame

That I had traded night for light

That I must forsake her to save my life…”

The song ends where it started: hopeful. Like the way Astarion glances at her now. Wide-eyed, like he’s been wind-blown by wonder, wearing her favorite smile. The points of his fangs poke out from his lips by the barest bit.

He stows his dagger in its sheath again. But the pinprick of nerves stays sharp, needling beneath Naomi’s ribs.

“When dawn broke the dark didn’t waver

Nor did my heartbeat slow

I watched the sun rise from safety in shadows

And dared, again, to dance in the glow…”

And still, I lived, and still, I breathed

And still I bore the scars

But no others knew them by that pain

They said my freckles looked like stars…”

She laid her gaze on me again

And I was never the same

I laid to rest what I had been before

And when I end, I’ll be dust, evermore

But the great between is my domain.”

“Hm,” Astarion hums, fingers still rapping the rhythm on the stone. “Perhaps you were right, my dear. I daresay there’s an undead presence nearby that’s simply insurmountable. I don’t think we should trifle with that level of dark power. Best to cater to his whims.” His eyes flash, brimming with mischief, and the lightest nip of hunger. “Keep him sated, so to speak.”

“Don’t I already?” Naomi shoots him a sideways glance, but her wary eyes are quick to return to the darkened edge of her sightline.

“Mm. You are…”

Stuck in his throat, it seems. Seems a fair revenge, for how he’s made everything beneath her ribs feel like mush with just a look. Made her sing with one wag of a finger. Made her dare to sing again, at all.

“...too adorable,” he huffs with an accompanying eyeroll. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, darling. Look around,” he says with a wave of his arms. “It’s only me.”

It is. Just the two of them. But it hurts to look at him, just now. Like staring straight at the sun. She can feel the warmth he doesn’t speak, hear the part he doesn’t say. And you know I’d never hurt you. I love you.

Or, she wants to. Hear it. Maybe more than he wants to say it.

Naomi wavers where she sits. “It took a few hours, with A-Alfira--”

“We’re on watch. We’ve got the time, an arsenal of weapons, and alarm spells. And a cleric. A real one, with Selune on our side instead of Shar. Oh, and dare I forget,” he leans a whisper to her ear, the sound as sheer as a negligee, “a very limber bard. You must’ve heard of her.”

Briefly, his hand cups her cheek, kissing sweet, tingling coolness over the warmth flushed there. Naomi arches a brow, but it’s too late. It’s already over, and he already knows he’s found a new trick. And, it’s at least sort of working to quell the disquiet gnawing at her insides.

“I know you don’t believe it yet,” he says, his smile giving way to seriousness. “But I do. You’ve survived so much else. Why not this, too?”

Naomi gives the slightest shake of her head. “Because there is never a simple solution to something that is so fucked to begin with.”

“Well,” he says, chipper regardless, “then it’s a good thing there was absolutely nothing simple about lifting the shadow curse and shooing off all of those other pesky undead. There’s only room for one in the tent.”

He’s right. No more undead show up before the sun does. But still, some haunted song begs remembrance in the back of Naomi’s brain.

A/N: The fic settles into a more linear progression (less time hoppy) going forward from this chapter. Hope you enjoyed, would love to hear if you did! <3 <3

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion fanfic #astarion romance #astarion x tav #tav x astarion #bg3 fanfic #midnight chimes #naomi tavriel #my writing

[blossomingframe]

Secretary

I’m still working on plot shit for my previously promised slobby monster story so have a vintage threesome one shot so I can practice my format for longer stories.

Tw; misogyny,anxiety mention, alcohol mention, dubious consent related to alcohol

Kinks; slob, weight gain,fart,burps,bloating,intox,BDSM

Pansy’s speech

Reginald’s speech

Delilah’s speech

It was Delilah’s first day working at I tepruar Metals. She packed a small lunch on purpose because after years of high waisted dresses she wasn’t sure how her figure would hold up in a pencil skirt. Not that she’d ever worn one before. When she was in high school and college she wore pedal pushers and after her graduation she got pregnant soon after. She hadn’t worn something so “showy” since her childhood. However that was the least of her concerns. Even as one of two secretaries she was expected to be sharp and after 15 years of housekeeping her brain had probably atrophied.

As her husband walked in she snapped out of her daze and finished placing salad leaves in her Tupperware. “ good morning sweetheart I’m a little nervous about going to work but I’m still fine to make your breakfast” she said, greeting him as she did most mornings. But different. He just nodded, slapped her ass and smiled. He meant no harm. Delilah always joked he was a blue collar man stuck in a middle class life. He was strait-laced, down-to-earth. Delilah served him his eggs then said “the new nanny is already upstairs waking up the children” and rushed out.

Reginald like to get into the office early. His home felt so empty and he liked to get some work done before everyone showed up. Plus his favourite breakfast was donuts and spiked coffee at his desk which might lead to some judgement. Especially how he acted whilst consuming it. As he got to the end of both an important form and his fourth donut he let out a massive belch then buttoned and zipped his pants. Everyone would be showing up soon. Especially his new secretary who made a point of saying how punctual she is during the interview. He could feel some gurgling in his stomach but those would have to wait at least until the new girl was situated.

And what a new girl she was. Reginald would freely admit he partially hired her for her looks but seeing a gal in an A-line dress and a ponytail was very different to seeing her in an almost skin tight blouse and skirt with heels. Plus what he would never admit was that part of her appeal was the visible belly rounding out her skirt. Reginald realised he was staring then gathered himself, shook her hand and got her sat down at her desk. Pansy wasn’t looking too bad either today. But he needed to press on regardless of what his animal urges told him.

This new hire wouldn’t be so hard to train. Pansy knew Reginald better than to expect someone brainless just because she had “assets” but this Delilah woman seemed almost a fantasy. The wisdom of a mother of five kids, a chemical engineering degree and fast, clear handwriting. Plus she wasn’t exactly complaining about having a curvaceous, cutesy coworker. Pansy didn’t exactly proclaim the poems of Sappho but she had kissed and handled just as many old secretaries as Reginald had.

Pansy knew today wouldn’t be very productive. In between the constant questions from Delilah who was as inexperienced as she was diligent, Reginald’s clearly bloated stomach catching her eye whenever he blustered through their office to the rest of building and the near constant siren song of their offices seemingly endless coffee and snacks she was plenty busy. At roughly three the biggest distraction of them all presented itself. Delilah ran in the direction of the bathroom after no bathroom breaks all day and constant coffee top ups. After 15 minutes she decided to go check on her.

Delilah sat on the toilet dumbfounded. Her husband regularly talked about having six cups a day but not a word about its “side effects”. Another burp slipped out of her throat. The ladies toilet was thankfully empty so she could be unladylike in private. It still felt so shameful though. She rubbed the red marks on her taut belly. At home her sensitive stomach was no issue, with the kids at school she was mostly alone so could just shut the windows and ride it out. Plus these new clothes were much tighter. She pushed down on her navel and let out a stream of farts.

“Delilah are you okay? Are you having woman’s issues?” Shit. Her coworker Pansy may be a frequent snacker but she still stayed the ever poised professional. Delilah in that moment resigned to her fate of being fired “uurp no. I think I frrrt had too much coffee” Pansy would find out soon enough. “Open the door I can help you” Delilah opened the door, desperate to get it over and done with but instead Pansy shut and locked the stall door and asked if she could unbutton Delilahs blouse. She nodded trying to not let the jostling lead to burping in her coworkers face. Pansy did so then asked if she could massage Delilahs belly. Delilah nodded again and quickly found herself in a trance as Pansy’s cool fingers lulled her instantly. She sat completely blissed out and barely aware that she had forgone all pretence and was currently letting out a stream of loud burps, farts and moans.

Reginald loved meetings. Most people found them a distraction from work at best but they were his favourite part of the job. It helped being the boss. He loved charming clients, talking to his people and looking at presentations. When he started gaining weight after his marriage imploded he was nervous that he wouldn’t be taken seriously but the numbers had actually jumped upwards. Maybe his new soft physique was more relatable. The one issue was his new found appreciation for food left him feeling gassy and bloated in meetings which was an unwelcome distraction. Especially today. His stomach had chosen today, the day he had three meetings and a new hot secretary to launch a full offensive.

After his last meeting of the day he snuck into the supply closet next to the meeting room and immediately undid his pants. Then making sure the door was locked he cocked his leg and let out a stream of farts. They absolutely reeked. What could have lead to this? As he jiggled his belly to work up some burps he looked down. He did not remember his belly being that big. Maybe he’d gone too far. But he also noticed something else. He was rock hard. Ever since he started eating more and stopped going to all those couples activities he’d noticed that he felt fantastic when he acted gross. He felt horny, he felt manly, he felt the best about himself he had in years. As he belched and patted his dick he debated in his head his persona as a charismatic gentleman. Maybe post-divorce he could evolve. Or more aptly devolve. Pansy all ready knew about his antics and didn’t seem to think less of him. “Buuuuuuurrrrrrpp” for now though the shame lived on.

Pansy was in heaven. A cute, fat girl burping in her face? Yes. Said girl also letting out comedically loud farts. Yes. Her sweet blissed out facial expression was the cherry on top. The only thing that could have made it better was if she could kiss and squeeze Delilah too. She was getting pretty gassy herself as her late lunch settled but she figured Delilah wouldn’t mind. She let out her own duo of loud burps followed up by loud fart. Delilah looked even happier so Pansy laughed it off and burped again. And again. And again. God it felt good. Then something unexpected happened. Delilah kissed her on the mouth.

Things escalated quickly. The next thing Pansy knew she was farting into Delilah’s lap and grabbing her breasts. Delilah pulled her in and burped in her face. Then there was another complete blur and they were both running back to the office holding their blouses closed. They ran into the office and shut the door. “Reginald won’t be back from his meetings for a while” Pansy explained before pulling Delilah to the floor and stripping off both their blouses and bras. Pansy then got onto all fours and farted in Delilah’s face. Then she sat onto her lap and they started kissing and humping each other in a flurry of movement. Neither of them thought to check the clock. Or to even think about their boss until a gruff voice behind them said “uurp my office is more comfortable”.

“Are we in trouble?” “Like Hell you’re in trouble. That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen” Pansy grinned. “I knew that you were a pig boss but I’m impressed” . It was in that moment that Delilah’s brain finally noticed his unbuttoned trousers, his bloated belly, the flask in his hand, the steady stream of farts, the food stains on his shirt and the fact that his other hand was in his underwear. Delilah knew what to do. She pulled him into a hug, kissed him on the mouth then pushed against his belly. “It’s only fair to return the favour piggy” Reginald burped in her face then pulled her into his office. Pansy followed sitting on Reginald’s desk. Delilah felt hot all over. She stripped off the last of her clothes, then took the flask from Reginald’s hand and took a swig. “Atta girl! I love you already”. Pansy hugged her as Delilah burped and said “solid hiring decision. Bo-uurrp-sss”

Both Reginald and Pansy stripped the rest of their clothes then Reginald lied down on his desk and Delilah sat on his pelvis. Then as Pansy wheeled toward her she pulled her up and Pansy sat behind her and wrapped her legs around her. Delilah pulled Pansy’s hands onto her belly. Then Delilah started rubbing Reginald’s hairy gut. They burped at the same time as Pansy let out a rippling fart that shook them both. Delilah and Reginald continued to burp at each other as Pansy humped Delilah desperately. Reginald leaned upwards and grabbed Pansy’s ass. Delilah grabbed Reginald’s dick and placed it inside herself then started pushing herself into him.

Reginald missed his flask. Sure it was sexy as hell when Delilah drank from it but that was the last of his booze. And he was starving. But he still had a good buzz going so there was no reason to worry. He focused on his throbbing dick inside Delilah’s warm tight pussy and Pansy’s ass in his hands. He thrusted into Delilah and with each thrust he felt more and more like he was floating. Both of them smelt so good. Of sweat and floral perfume and ink and cabbage. He let out another loud belch and felt his eyes roll back into his head as he came. He screamed with pleasure “wy pierdolone anioły!”, gripping Pansy’s ass so hard she screamed in pain.

Reginald kept thrusting until eventually he saw Delilah screw up her eyes then felt the shaking sensation of her body as she finished. Reginald sat up as Delilah and Pansy got down. Delilah stroked his face and said “lie down love” he could feel himself sobering up but he still settled back down. Delilah then knelt on the floor next to his face while Pansy stood up on the other end. Pansy started rubbing his belly with one hand and his leaky cock in the other. Delilah started kissing him and burping in his mouth. Reginald returned the favour and she grabbed him by the neck and started kissing him with tongue. God he was so lucky he got to hire such hot girls.

Pansy loved the feeling of hot cum on her hands. But the heavy petting had to end at some point. She was cold. She tapped Reginald on the hip then stopped rubbing him. She thought about Delilah and Reginald’s bodies. Reginald had gotten so hot since his divorce. In between the extra 50 pounds, the whiskey habit loosening him up and his new slobby ways he had gone from merely handsome to a certified cutie. Then there was Delilah with her loose hair and nervous manners she was so sweet but her rebellious streak was powerful and sexy. Both of them were so hot.

Her sweater felt softer than usual when she placed it on her shoulders. “I farted on it” Delilah winked. She’d been sat in the office chair in her underwear and Reginald’s blazer for a while now. She had just been staring into space smirking. Reginald had curled up on the floor in the corner. He did that. Reginald got guilty after sex especially since he usually had to get drunk before hand to not feel guilty in the first place. “Did you have fun love?” Pansy said while she sauntered toward her. “What does this mean for me?” “It means you like hot people. Doing hot things. Don’t worry about it.” “But you’re so…so different. And not just in good ways. You’re so forward! And you’re kind of rude.” “Fair. But just because you’re into girls and weirder stuff doesn’t mean you’re mean like me”. “Huh-hmm I guess. Can one of you call me a cab home I missed the bus.” “I’ll do it. See you tomorrow!” Pansy ran to her desk and called Delilah a taxi while she got dressed. When Delilah went home she walked feeling the night breeze on her face. With those two around she’d need the walk to calm down after work.

They were the most effective, and disgusting, administration team I tepruar Metals ever had.

#burp kink #fart kink #belly kink #eructo #eprocto #queer ns/fw #queer feedism #belly burp #farting #burps #burp #burping

[wickedcriminal]

For the half brother au does book hiccup go with the rest of the gang in race to the edge?

Oh absolutely!! Along with Fishlegs No-Name and Camicazi of course! And I think it would be an excellent place to put several plot points for a few of the later books!!

I gave him the fire suit with his tunic and waist coat over it (I'm not sure about the navy blue yet but forest green clashed a little too much so I'm sticking with it for now)

The Ticking Thing would help the Riders navigate as they go about exploring. The Dragon Eye as well could help point to some of the Lost Things.

And instead of the Dragon Eye leading to the King of Dragons, it could lead to Furious, where RTTE could end off on freeing him and kicking off the dragon rebellion in time for HTTYD 2.

A few story elements for this au's Race to the Edge;

Since the 6th book is specifically Hiccup's 12th birthday, book elements taken for RTTE are from book 7 onward to account for his age (books 2-5 would be during Riders/Defenders and the 6th book would be a special like GOTNF)

Both Hiccups are constantly being mixed up for each other. Viggo sends cronies to capture Hiccup the Elder? Whoops, wrong Hiccup. Alvin needs Hiccup the Younger to translate dragon stuff? Wrong Hiccup again.

Fishlegs (No-Name) is also here on the Edge and shares a hut with Hiccup the Younger and Camicazi. We add a brand new subplot across the seasons where Fishlegs is researching his heritage and trying to find his family, but he keeps getting false leads. Fishlegs Ingerman and both Hiccups are his main helpers with this.

Alvin the Treacherous (books, not the show), while not as intimidating as Viggo, is still a persistent villain and shows up every so often shown to capture and enslave dragons. Krogan works for him instead of Drago (I'll probably replace Drago with Alvin entirely) and the singetails are swapped for Exterminators since Riders/Defenders would have left off on book 5.

The plot point of Norbert the Nutjob taking the book trio to America is slightly altered so that the crew are dragon hunters looking for new dragons, probably connected to Viggo. Otherwise it would be mostly the same, except the swim contest would be exchanged for maybe a mission or patrol for the Dragon Riders that the trio was kidnapped from. The Dragon Riders would later come to help rescue them from the American Dream 2 along with the Wanderers

Hiccup the Younger still hides his mark from everyone, including his brother.

I think it would be neat if the lost throne of the Wilderwest was found on Vanaheim. It would make a really nice spooky atmosphere. An island graveyard for dragons with a cursed throne just there on the beach, waiting. Especially if this was connected to the Oswald the Agreeable subplot in a way. Maybe he's the one that found it, and the curse on it lead to his death.

Hiccup the Younger claims his charming big brother Hiccup the Elder (son of a chief and heir to the tribe mind you) most definitely wrote that love poem to Tantrum O'Ugerly, and not Fishlegs, obviously

Oh I think it would be downright hilarious if Toothless the night fury was constantly being tracked down for capture like Team Rocket to Pikachu because Viggo/Alvin genuinely think he's a Lost Thing. "Fang Free Dragon"? This night fury can retract its teeth and it's LITERALLY named Toothless, that must be the one.

Moving past book events, though:

There's a dragon in the show that can lure dragons to it like a siren before it traps its prey in amber and eats them; the Death Song. Since Hiccup the Younger understands Dragonese, I figure he would also be affected by a Death Song's song

In a case of the 'wrong Hiccup' scenario, I think it would be interesting if in the episode Midnight Scrum, the bounty was actually meant for Hiccup the Younger. Say Viggo wants the ticking thing from him or wants him to translate dragon stuff, neither of which older Hiccup can provide. Lose lose situation.

During Dire Straits, the part where Hiccup is drowning is made more tragic knowing Toothless can breathe underwater and could breathe air into Hiccup... if the submarine wasn't in the way.

I think it would be neat if the Bog Burglars, said to be a tribe of mostly (if not entirely) women, was in some way connected to the Wingmaidens. Wingmaiden Camicazi would be pretty neat I think, especially considering she doesn't have an actual riding dragon in the books, so her Stormfly could either be a baby Razorwhip or a mood dragon trained like one. I like the second idea, personally

That's all I've got for now!! Sorry this took a minute to answer, I had Many Thoughts about this if you can't tell lmao

#httyd au #how to train your dragon #httyd books #httyd #book!hiccup #book!toothless #toothless #hiccup #half brothers au #my art #ask #SORRY THIS TOOK A FEW DAYS

[gothimp]

hits my pen once and hears the siren call of my hair shears like odysseus in the messina strait

#bangs bangs bangs bangs #someone tie me to the fucking mast #nes.txt

[bearded-shepherd]

LET’S TALK: LOVE DEATH + ROBOTS VOL 3 (few spoilers)

THREE ROBOTS: EXIT STRATEGIES >>

The first episode starts out super strong with everyone’s beloved robots! On their next stop, they’re visiting where all the sorry fukers hoarding all the money come to cower in isolation. The whole short was just jabs after jabs towards humanity, tech bros, and billionaires have me ded laughing… bet Musky boy is lovin this… on top of his ‘elongate’ thing (:

BAD TRAVELING >>

I dunno how ya can put a whole ass movie in less that 14:00 min, but they did it somehow! Also, ya never really thought crabs can be so terrifying and yet so delicious at the same time. But anyways, the short took me on a loop (especially the ending).

THE VERY PULSE OF THE MACHINE >>

Kids, drugs are a powerful thing; and if ya start hearing your dead friend spouting deep shit like it’s 3 o’clock in the morn on a weed session, then uh … idk it’s all vibes from there really.

Damn I can’t get enough of the visuals, stunning and trippy. What I really like about this short is that it take same story of dying in space. Most stories ya have the person float out into space, drifting further and further into the black ink… alone; But in this short, ya have the feeling of not being alone in an array of beauty ( even if it’s the drugs doing all the talking).

NIGHT OF THE MINI DEAD >>

O man I fukin love this; just full fukin chaos out the wazoo. I love the literal aspect of it all. It’s like one of those shitty mobile games that is constantly advertised and ya know it’s false advertisement, but actually came to life (or in a mini short). I will honestly play the fuk out of a game like this.

KILL TEAM KILL >>

If the Terminator, G.I Joe, and The Edge had a fuck up baby, this is it. What more can ya ask for; just 3 loving parents raising an edgy child. Pure fukin testosterone shooting up to ya brain creating a whole ass fever dream. This is Adult Swim gold right here.

SWARMS >>

That Guy: Let’s exploit this alien race (presumably non sentient) for profit Everyone Else:  … da fuk you aint

Humans being humans I suppose. So  uh, we all skipped the sex part right?

MASON'S RATS >>

First of all, what the hell was in the GMOs? Second, how did WW3 end? And third, how rich is this fuker to be able to buy all this tech?

Another thing, these rats hold ZERO grunges even if the main guy bought tech to literally commit rat genocide… like wot, did the rats not eat enough GMOs or somethin to think for a sec. Whatevs, that’s not the horrifying part, that goes to the Traptech guy and his tiny ponytail friend.

I can’t deny, I did laughed pretty hard on the long scene with the TT-15 over killing one of the rats tho.

IN VAULTED HALL ENTOMBED >>

This is a long video game trailer right? Right? I mean Ya got ya generic male lead that was randomly created by  a COD character creation thing. HOWEVER, this short, the true lead is Cthulhu’s lost sibling Cbhubhu alright. My eye is on them and only them. But no seriously, if this was a game I would actually be interested in; I wanna know the story/world and I wanna get to kno… them.

JIBARO >>

Now boy Howdy, this one fuked me. Girl out here fuking it up on the waters and slaying the boys in the yard. Can’t resist a lil jingle jangles in our brains and it goes strait to our jiggly asses; except for that one knight, he was deaf… (:(:(:

Anyways, fukin brilliant, I was on the edge of my seat the whole time. I love how confused the siren was when she realized the guy was just not reactive at all.

Honestly, this short haunted me the most (well besides the traptech guy…)

Overall, great season; I really enjoyed it and for me, a definite step up from the last season. It’s hard to choose a favorite on this one; but I do say, the true winner was the soundtrack. The music in each short just fit so well.

#love death and robots #love death + robots #LTs #love death and robots spoilers #three robots #jibaro #kill team kill #the vaulted hall entombed #mason's rats #night of the mini dead #bad traveling #the pulse of the machine #swarms

[missmungoe]

Hello, i forgot the title, but there was a part when Makino sang a song that was made by Shanks. I was wondering if that was a real song or if you wrote the lyrics yourself?

Hi! All the songs featured in my fics are written by me! :) If I had a knack for it, I'd put them to music, but my love is for writing questionable (and dirty) song lyrics!

From your description, I'm thinking this is "Moored to Her Port"? It's the song Shanks wrote about Makino, originally from Tethered to Kinder Shores, although the part where Makino sings it to the crew is from Mnemosyne, chapter 18:

A hand was held out to her, cupped as though for her to step into it, and without missing a beat she did, then into another, and a third, a light, seamless gait as they provided a path for her to the neighbouring table, steady as though she walked on air, onto the neighbouring table and then the next, more eager hands reaching to assist her, and never once stumbling over the song, her voice lifting under the beams to the beat where they clapped it―“By hand and by tongue I will chart it, her legs exquisitely parted, down the swell of her hips and her skin so fair, to the strait of her soft thighs and her dark, curling hair. It’s not between Scylla and Charybdis I’ll go down, but on her!”―before the last step saw her leaping gracefully onto the furthermost table, to the loud delight of the pirates seated along it. She turned then, her eyes seizing his from across the compartment, and this time his whole crew raised their voices for the last line of the refrain. Everyone but Shanks, who couldn’t have summoned his own with a pistol to his head. It crested against the timbers, the bulkheads creaking from the pressure like the ship's lungs expanding, a roar of sound where it rose from deep in their stomachs, like something long-restrained was finally let free― “For booze and water are naught but dregs, I’ll quench my thirst between her legs!”

If it's not that one, it might be Shanks' dirty rewrite that they sing together in Siren's Call, chapter 11. I don't remember if I ever gave that one a title, but let's call it "Down on Her Knees"!

The refrain came then, and he’d changed that, too, telling of the lady’s grateful and enthusiastic reward, which in the original had been much less graphic, a coyly implied tryst within her upturned carriage, but he’d never cared for subtlety, to which the shameless rewrite testified rather bluntly, the rich baritone of his voice lifted as he sang, loud enough to fill the whole galley. “And down on her knees she went, down on her knees, with dirt on her frock and her mouth full of—” Makino choked, the sound louder than the word as it left him, shaped by his filthy grin, and she heard his laughter where it flung out, before he repeated the refrain, louder this time and echoed by his whole crew, and by the end of which she was blushing so hard she couldn’t find her voice to pick up the following verse, her palms pressed to her face to stifle the scalding heat in her cheeks and her helpless laughter. She heard Shanks’ where it answered, delighting in her reaction, before he picked up the next verse, which should have been a heavily suggestive rendition of the lady’s change in fortune, but which had been rewritten in plainer terms as he sang, in that spellbinding voice, “With her manservant dead, she was down on her luck, but there’s no cure for mis’ry like a rousing good—?” Throwing his hand out to the galley, the question implied by the lift of his voice, they answered him in turn, loudly and with their glasses raised, the word deafening where it bounced off the walls: "Fuck!" Shanks raised his brows at her with a grin as Makino laughed into her hands.

Other songs by yours truly that appear in Shanties are "The Salt Wife" from Salt Vows chapter 1, and "Beneath the Tavern Bench" from the one-shot pirate lullabies. A recurring feature in my stories is Shanks and Makino singing together, and I love writing out the actual lyrics. It's always my hope that whoever reads them will feel like they're there, listening<3

#Shanks x Makino #I don't have the complete lyrics written out for all the songs but it's something I've always wanted to do!

[theemporium]

Tell me a common scottland myth or legend pleaseeeeeeeee

I mean, there’s the basic ones like the loch ness monster or the kelpies. but the one I find really funny for some reason is the blue men of the minch

they are essentially like sirens where they target ships in this certain strait of sea between sole islands and mainland scotland. but instead of a siren song, they supposedly would give captains poetry verses to try and complete, and if they didn’t, they would capsize the boat. also the fact they were blue just makes it so😭

also the gorbals vampire was a fairly recent phenomenon. back in the 50s, a few kids went missing or something along the lines and local kids were so sure it was a seven foot vampire with iron teeth that took them. nobody believed them and they tried to storm a graveyard themselves to find the vampire, but it eventually got shut down by some adults. but there’s still a mural there today for the vampire!!!

#cece answers

[ultrameganicolaokay]

Sirens of the City #2 by Joanne Starer and Khary Randolph. Cover by Randolph. Variant covers by (2) Cliff Chiang (3) Dan Mora and (4) Toni Infante. Out in August.

"As the mysterious truth of Rome and his connection to Layla's pregnancy are revealed, even the relative safety of friends and newfound shelter won't be enough to protect her from the implications of what she carries. But being a Siren comes with its share of power, and Layla wouldn't dare let that go to waste while in dire straits…"

#sirens of the city #boom studios #joanne starer #khary randolph #cliff chiang #dan mora #toni infante #variant cover #comics

[graphicpolicy]

Preview: Sirens of the City #2

Sirens of the City #2 preview. Being a Siren comes with its share of power, and Layla wouldn't dare let that go to waste while in dire straits... #comics #comicbooks

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#boom studios #comic books #Comics #joanne starer #khary randolph #sirens of the city