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rafecamerons-national-anthem · 2 months ago

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𝑀𝐼𝒮𝒯𝑅𝐸𝒮𝒮-𝐹𝒜𝒯𝐻𝐸𝑅 𝒞𝐻𝒜𝑅𝐿𝐼𝐸 𝑀𝒜𝒴𝐻𝐸𝒲

𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕞𝕦𝕥

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪 A priest, and a woman seeking guidance are drawn to each other despite the forbidden nature of their attraction. Their passionate affair unfolds in secret, filled with guilt and longing. Despite knowing the consequences, they cannot resist their desires.

✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮

Father Charlie was a man of the cloth, revered for his compassion, his wisdom, and his unwavering dedication to the flock he had been entrusted with. His congregation saw him as a beacon of hope, a rock of stability in the tumultuous sea of life's trials and tribulations. But unbeknownst to them, the good father had a secret a secret that would soon come to light and change everything.

You, a beautiful and enigmatic woman with a penchant for the forbidden, had stumbled upon this secret quite by accident. You had come to the rectory seeking solace from your own tumultuous life, seeking guidance from the man who had helped so many find peace. Little did you know that the moment your eyes met Father Charlie's, a spark of desire had been ignited a desire that neither of you could extinguish, no matter how hard you tried to resist.

For weeks, the tension had been building. Each time Father Charlie offered you his counsel, his eyes lingered just a fraction longer than was appropriate, and you felt the heat of his gaze even through the confessional's thick velvet curtain. You had felt a strange pull towards him, something that transcended the spiritual and ventured into the realm of the carnally profane. It was as if the very air around you was charged with a silent, unspoken promise of passionate release.

And so it was that one fateful evening, as the shadows grew long and the last vestige of daylight clung to the stained glass windows, you found yourself standing before the heavy oak door to Father Charlie's private chambers. Your heart raced as your hand hovered over the brass doorknob, the weight of your decision pressing down upon your very soul. With trembling fingers, you pushed the door open, revealing the man you had come to both crave and fear.

Father Charlie looked up from his ancient, leather-bound tome, his eyes widening in surprise before quickly narrowing with a mix of desire and guilt. The candles on his desk flickered, casting a warm, inviting glow across the room, and you could see the struggle playing out across his handsome features. He knew he should ask you to leave, to protect both of your souls from the sin that lurked in the shadows of his desires. But the temptation was too great, the connection between you too powerful.

As you stepped into the room, he rose from his chair, his priestly garments rustling softly. The air grew thick with anticipation, and the line between holy man and passionate lover grew blurry. The room was filled with the scent of aged parchment, incense, and something undeniably human desire.

With a voice that was barely a whisper, he spoke your name, the sound of it a declaration of his longing. You closed the distance between you, your eyes locked onto his, and you knew that there was no turning back. The attraction was irresistible, the allure of the forbidden too strong to resist.

Father Charlie reached out and took your hand, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You felt his pulse quicken beneath your fingertips, a silent confession of his own tumultuous thoughts. He led you to a chair, the soft velvet cushion beckoning you closer.

"I shouldn't," he murmured, his voice a hoarse rasp of self-torment.

"But you want to," you replied, your voice equally soft, equally needy.

The silence stretched out, pregnant with the weight of their unspoken desires. And then, with a groan that was equal parts agony and surrender, Father Charlie pulled you into his embrace.

As Father Charlie's arms closed around you, his warmth and the faint scent of incense mingled with your own perfume, creating a heady aroma that intoxicated your senses. His embrace was firm yet gentle, a stark contrast to the tumult of emotions roiling within him. His breath was hot against your neck as he whispered a prayer for strength, his lips brushing the soft skin just below your ear. You leaned into him, feeling the heat of his body, and the barrier between you began to crumble.

"Forgive me," he breathed, his words a plea to both you and the heavens above.

"For what?" you whispered back, your heart racing as you felt his hands begin to explore the contours of your body.

"For being a man," he replied, his voice thick with desire.

The confessional had been the stage for countless confessions, but none as raw and intimate as the one that played out now between you and Father Charlie. His hands found their way to the small of your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. His lips searched for yours, and when they finally met, it was with a passion that neither of you had ever experienced before. The kiss was deep, urgent, and filled with the hunger of a love that had been denied for too long.

You moaned softly into his mouth, your body responding to his touch, his taste. His hands slid up your back, tangling in your hair, as he deepened the kiss, exploring every inch of your willing mouth. Your own hands roamed his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath the fabric of his robes. The weight of his desire was palpable, a silent testament to the depth of his need for you.

With a sudden sureness, he broke the kiss and looked into your eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation. But all he found was a reflection of his own passion. You nodded, a silent affirmation that you were ready to cross this line together. The room seemed to spin as he lifted you into his arms and carried you to the nearby bed, the candlelight casting a warm, seductive glow across the aged bedspread.

The weight of his body settled over yours, and his kisses grew more urgent as he worked to rid himself of his clerical vestments. With trembling hands, you helped him, feeling the urgency in every movement. The fabric fell away, revealing the firm planes of his chest, and you gasped at the sight of him, so different from the man you had known behind the confessional screen.

Father Charlie paused, his eyes searching yours, seeking reassurance. "Are you sure?" he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

"More than I've ever been," you replied, your voice equally low and filled with need.

He took a deep breath and leaned in, his mouth tracing a fiery path down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you shiver. "Then let us find salvation in each other," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

You nodded, unable to form words as his hands began to unbutton your blouse. Each button released with a soft click, the sound echoing through the room like a series of small surrenders. His thumbs brushed the bare skin of your chest, sending waves of pleasure through you. You arched into his touch, eager for more.

The bed creaked slightly as he laid you back, his body hovering over yours, the heat from his skin searing into you. His hands paused at the last button, and you could see the war raging within him duty and desire, heaven and hell, the sacred and the profane. With one final, decisive move, he parted your blouse, revealing the soft mounds of your breasts, the nipples tight and begging for his touch.

He leaned down, his mouth capturing one nipple, his tongue flicking against it. You gasped at the sensation, your back arching, pressing yourself further into his mouth. His hand slid down your torso, his fingers deftly unhooking your skirt, his eyes never leaving yours.

And as the fabric pooled around your waist, exposing your most intimate secrets to the candlelight, you whispered, "Take me, Father. I'm yours." His eyes darkened, the final veneer of resistance shattering as he claimed your mouth once more, his kisses now filled with the desperation of a man who had been denied for far too long.

"Say it again," he rasped, his voice a mix of reverence and lust. "Say that you're mine."

"I'm yours," you repeated, your voice a breathy moan, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

With a groan, Father Charlie kissed his way down your body, his mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He paused at the apex of your thighs, looking up at you with a question in his eyes. You nodded, biting your lower lip, and he took it as the invitation it was. His kisses grew more urgent, his tongue exploring the sensitive flesh beneath your panties, and you could feel yourself growing wetter with each pass.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice filled with wonder and a hint of awe.

"And you're so wicked," you teased, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He chuckled, the sound low and dark, as he slid your panties aside, exposing your slick folds to the warm air of the room. His mouth descended, and you gasped as his tongue found your clit, flicking and teasing it mercilessly. The pleasure was almost unbearable, and you writhed beneath him, your hips rising to meet his eager ministrations.

"Father," you moaned, the word a plea as much as an endearment. "Please, don't stop."

"Never," he promised, his voice muffled against your skin. "I'll never stop, not when you taste so sweet."

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on as he feasted on you, his tongue delving into your warmth, his teeth nipping gently at your sensitive flesh. Each touch sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, and you knew you were close to the edge.

"I need you," you panted, the words torn from your throat as your orgasm built. "I need all of you."

He looked up, his eyes smoldering with a need that mirrored your own. "Then take me," he said, his voice a command that sent a shiver down your spine.

With trembling hands, you reached for his belt, your fingers fumbling with the clasp. The anticipation was unbearable, the tension coiled tight as a spring. And as the final barrier between you fell away, revealing his hard length, you felt the room spin around you. The air was thick with desire, the candlelight casting an ethereal glow on the scene unfolding before you.

You straddled him, his heat and hardness pressing against your soaked center, and you paused, savoring the moment before you slid down, taking him inch by inch. His eyes never left yours, and as you took all of him inside you, the connection was complete. The line between sin and salvation blurred as you began to move, your bodies joined in a dance as old as time itself.

Father Charlie's eyes searched yours, the intensity of his gaze a silent question. "Tell me what you need," he demanded, his voice a gruff whisper.

"You," you moaned, your voice a mix of need and want. "I need all of you, Father."

The words hung in the air, heavy with lust and longing. He groaned, his hands sliding down your body to grip your hips, guiding you to move faster, deeper. The friction between your bodies grew slicker with each stroke, and the sounds of your passion filled the room, echoing off the high ceilings and thick, velvet drapes.

"You're mine," he growled, his eyes dark with possession. "Mine to worship, mine to cherish."

"Yes," you breathed, your voice a ragged affirmation. "I belong to you."

You leaned down, your breasts brushing against his chest, your lips finding his in a kiss that was as fierce as it was tender. "And you belong to me," you whispered against his mouth.

Father Charlie's grip tightened, his hips bucking up to meet yours. "Always," he murmured, the word a vow.

The rhythm grew more frantic, your bodies moving in perfect harmony, driven by a need that was both divine and carnally sinful. The room was alive with the sound of your shared passion, the candles casting a flickering light across your entwined forms.

"Fuck me," you whispered, the words a sweet blasphemy that only served to drive him wilder.

"Oh, my sweet," he murmured, his voice a benediction of sin. "I will fuck you until you scream my name."

With that, he rolled you onto your back, his body covering yours, his weight a delicious pressure that made you arch into him. His thrusts grew more demanding, each one hitting a spot deep inside that made your eyes roll back in your head. You could feel yourself approaching the brink of ecstasy, and you knew that Father Charlie was right there with you.

The tension coiled tighter and tighter, a spring wound to its breaking point. You dug your nails into his back, your legs wrapping around his waist, urging him closer. "Fuck me," you gasped again, the words a chant that matched the rhythm of his hips.

And as the world around you shattered into a million pieces of pure, white hot pleasure, you did indeed scream his name, your voice echoing through the sacred space of his chamber, a testament to the power of love that dared to flourish in the darkest of places. The story pauses here, leaving the reader craving the culmination of their passionate union, the ultimate surrender to their shared desire.

Father Charlie's strokes grew erratic, his breathing ragged, as he felt his own release approaching. His eyes never left yours, as if by holding your gaze, he could somehow anchor himself to the reality of this moment to the woman who had unleashed a tempest of passion within him.

"Forgive me," he murmured, his voice a mix of reverence and desperation, as he pushed into you one last time, the tension in his body a silent confession of his own impending climax.

"There's nothing to forgive," you whispered back, your voice filled with the sweet agony of pleasure. "We're just two lost souls finding each other."

Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, your body convulsing around him, your nails digging into his flesh as you held on tight. Father Charlie groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head, as he reached his peak, filling you with his essence. The room was silent except for the sound of your ragged breaths and the pounding of your hearts, beating in sync with the rhythm of your love.

As the aftershocks of pleasure subsided, he collapsed onto you, his weight a comforting warmth as the reality of what they had done settled over both of you like a velvet shroud. "What have we done?" he murmured, his voice filled with awe and dread.

"We've found something beautiful in the forbidden," you replied, stroking his sweat-dampened hair. "Something that no one else can ever understand."

The candles flickered, casting shadows across the room, as the two of you lay there, tangled in the bedsheets and in each other's arms. The story of Father Charlie Mayhew and his mistress, a tale of passion and sin, was only just beginning, and the consequences of their actions would ripple through the very fabric of the community that had once held them in such high regard. But for now, in the stillness of the night, all that mattered was the undeniable connection that had brought them together in this most holy of unions.

Father Charlie kissed your forehead gently, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and relief. "I never wanted this," he whispered, his voice filled with the weight of his words. "But I can't deny that I need it."

You nodded, your fingers tracing the lines of his face. "Neither did I," you confessed, your voice barely a murmur. "But here we are."

The silence grew heavy, the only sound the steady tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway. It was a reminder of the time that was slipping away, of the lives that were forever changed by this one, fateful encounter.

"We can't do this again," he said, his voice filled with a sadness that mirrored the look in his eyes. "It's not right."

But even as he spoke the words, you both knew they were a lie. The bond that had formed between you was too strong, too all consuming to be broken by guilt or fear. This was a hunger that would not be sated by a single encounter. It was a craving that would demand to be fed, a thirst that could not be quenched by the waters of regret.

The next time you would meet, it would be with a newfound urgency, a desperation that came from knowing that their time together was limited, that their love was a fleeting thing that could be snatched away at any moment. But for now, as the candles burned low and the shadows grew long, you lay in the warm embrace of your forbidden lover, the world outside the confines of the rectory forgotten, if only for a little while.

Father Charlie pulled you closer, his hand tracing the curve of your hip, his touch gentle despite the fierceness of your lovemaking. "We'll find a way," he murmured against your skin. "Somehow, we'll find a way."

You nodded, your breath warm against his neck. "We have to," you said, your voice filled with a determination that belied the tremble in your body. "We can't just walk away from this."

The candles continued to flicker, their flames dancing in the dark corners of the room, as Father Charlie held you close, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of his climax. In that moment, as the walls of his sanctum closed in around them, you realized that there was no going back. The line had been crossed, and there was no retreat, no confession that could ever erase the sin that had been committed here tonight.

Father Charlie's breathing grew steady, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of sleep. But your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, the weight of your actions pressing down on you like a heavy burden. You lay there, your heart racing, trying to reconcile the woman you had been with the woman you had become. The silence of the night was a stark contrast to the tumult in your soul, a silent witness to the tumultuous journey that lay ahead.

As the moon climbed higher in the sky, casting a pale light through the stained glass windows, you slipped from the bed, careful not to wake him. Dressing quickly, you paused to look back at the man who had captured your heart, his features softened by the gentle glow. The urge to crawl back into the warmth of his arms was almost unbearable, but you knew that you couldn't stay. Not yet. The world outside waited, with all its judgments and expectations, and you had to face it alone.

With one final, lingering glance, you turned away, the coolness of the floorboards a stark contrast to the heat of the bed you were leaving behind. As you made your way to the door, you took one last, deep breath of the scent that lingered in the air the scent of incense and desire, of a love that defied the very nature of the world around you.

As you stepped into the hallway, the grandfather clock chimed the hour, the sound echoing through the stillness like a solemn bell tolling for the end of innocence. You paused, your hand on the doorknob, the metal cool and unyielding beneath your trembling fingers. What had started as a quest for guidance had become a descent into temptation, and you were now irrevocably lost. With a heavy heart, you turned the knob and stepped into the night, the door clicking softly shut behind you.

The cobblestone path beneath your feet was cold and unforgiving as you made your way back to your own life, the life you had left behind for just a few stolen hours. You knew that the whispers would start soon enough, the glances of suspicion and the whispers of scandal that would follow you wherever you went. But for now, all that mattered was the memory of Father Charlie's touch, the sound of his voice as he whispered sweet blasphemies against your skin.

The story of your illicit love affair with Father Charlie Mayhew was far from over. It was just beginning, a tale that would unfold in the shadows of the very church that had brought you together. Each meeting would be fraught with danger, each touch a silent declaration of your love and your shared fate.

The air was crisp and cool as you stepped into the moonlit night, the stars above a silent witness to the tumultuous emotions that surged within you. As you walked away from the rectory, you couldn't help but wonder what tomorrow would bring. Would it be the day you were found out? Or the day you finally gave in to the siren call of the forbidden, letting your love for Father Charlie consume you completely? Only time would tell, but one thing was for certain: you were in too deep to ever turn back now.

#nicholas chavez smut #charlie mayhew #father charlie x reader #father charlie mayhew #father charlie #father charlie mayhew x reader #charlie mayhew smut

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proxycrit · 11 months ago

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Elesa climbs to celestial tower to ring the bell. Emmet, stuck in between the distortion world, finds his way home.

Part 1/ Part 2

The conductor falls, down, down, down.

“What’s my name?” He calls to the abyss in terror (what is terror?)

He’s a singular being, right? (That’s not right. He’s one of a pair.)

The abyss gazes back. It has no answers to give, in its multitude.

Not to someone that’s so, so alone.

———

Somewhere else, one Elesa of Nimbasa rings the Celestial Tower’s Bell, over and over. Her companion, Chandelure, keeps watch.

Nothing happens.

Elesa’s stomach sinks. The reverberations of Celestial Tower’s brass bell mocks her in its echo. The vibrations of it’s distortion only makes the tears she tries to hold at bay worse.

In the blur of her failure, she sees chandelure’s flames suddenly die. Part of her panics.

The rest of her is apathetic and numb.

What’s the point? It didn’t work. Elesa closes her eyes. Tries to swallow, and fails. She’s so tired. She’s so, so tired. The deal with Azelf, the media storm she’s weathered, the constraints of her job, the almost loss of chandelure-

Emmet has been gone for three months. Ingo has been gone even longer.

They have gone where she can’t follow.

Elesa, the ghost whispers in her head. Elesa shakes her head in denial. She doesn’t want to plan right now. She wants to curl into herself, and disappear, just for a bit.

Elesa!

“I can’t do this,” she croaks. The sob in the back of her throat bubbles outwards. She wants Zebrstika. She wants Skyla. She wants her friends.

The paliphet Azelf forced her forward. It permeates her thoughts, drowning out logical thought.

(Too much willpower, and it will become an obsession, Azelf had warned her once in Ingo’s voice. And then, in Emmet’s voice: And when you fail, it willll break you. And finally, in her own voice: you will not have a choice but to move forward, with this curse.

I accept, elesa and told it back in the lake.)

I’m so tired, Elesa thinks now, two months later.

But she keeps moving forward. The bell rings again as Elesa strikes it, with all the hurt and rage and longing forced by her own hand into her soul-

-And that’s when chandelure screams, and there is a terrible rolling crack, and Elesa feels the sudden lurch in her gut as she looks up, her apathy torn into shreds as-

The sky tears open in a fractal wave.

Elesa gapes.

She can not comprehend the sudden black webbing across the sky. In the distance, sirens suddenly start wailing as people stop to perceive the impossible.

But Elesa does not care, because in that moment, the wrench in her gut is so great she almost staggers off the platform. Chandelure is by her side in an instant, her glass body a warm comfort to the sudden chill, because-

Something white is falling.

Elesa’s doesn’t know what she yells. But the tug in her chest feels like the beat of a drum, and she is helpless to the melody that calls for action.

Azelf’s blessed takes a leaping step forward, off the building. Chandelure lets out a panicked chime and the warmth of psychic cradles Elesa as she reaches out, arms outstretched, falling and flying and-

And Emmet, sparking with white electricity, reaches back.

NOTES:

AU’s Salvaging the Ship of Theseus! Everybody has a Bad Time. (Emmet and Eelektross go to Hisui and learn about the joys of the distortion world. Elesa hunts legends and makes bad deals. Ingo babysits some sneaslets.)

Backstory and explanation:

Prior this scene, Emmet was travelling Hisui with Eelektross before he falls through a mirror and becomes lost in the distortion world for a month. Elesa and Chandelure, meanwhile, refuse to give up on their remaining friend. (Ingo’s fine! He’s in Hisui right now trying to get fired so he can go searching for his memories. Eelektross is… less fine. We will Worry about That Later.)

Disclaimers: Everything’s a work in progress and subject to change!

Part 2!

#submas #submas au #salvaging the ship of theseus #(gives you a drabble)#this fucking scene…. living in my head… HARASSING ME UNTIL I WRITE AND DRAW IT.#BEGONE FOUL DEMONS #emmet #elesa #chandelure #pokemon #pokemon au #hope this haunts you as much as it haunts me #critdraws #critterbitter screams into the void #submas angst #submas fanfiction #fanfic #Spotify

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starry-bi-sky · 1 year ago

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This is very inspired by @minnesota-fats post about Danny being Bruce Wayne's clone (which has been rotting in my brain for two days) but an au where danny isn't just Bruce Wayne's clone, but also not fully a ghost.

both ideas can be used separately honestly, the idea just came to me while thinking about the bruce wayne clone idea, and a lot of this idea is just "danny without his ghost powers. i might probably make a part two that delves into him being bruce wayne's clone.

Hear me out.

A Danny Fenton who has the ghost sense and the fangs and the pointed ears and the scary eyes and an increase ecto-essence, but does not have the ability to "go ghost". His accident occurred when he pressed the "on" button on the outside of the portal, and the button electrocuted him due to faulty wiring. He ends up miraculously surviving but not without some new additional abilities (and electricity-based trauma).

Since Danny no longer has a built-in alter ego with the invert wardrobe to match, he doesn't see the point to take ghosts back to the ghost zone. What the hell can he do anyways? All he has is a cosmetic add-in, a lower body-temperature with an impressive ability to hold his breath longer than a human realistically should, and a built-in ghost detector. Not very helpful if you ask him.

That is, up until he goes into the lab after his parents catch a relatively harmless ghost and sees them vivisecting it. He's horrified. He thought his parents were using hyperbole when he said they'd tear them apart molecule by molecule.

(Granted, he also believed that ghosts were unfeeling up until he saw this random ghost being absolutely terrified for its existence on the table.)

After an argument over his parents harming the ghost, Danny goes back up to his room and refuses to leave, not even for dinner. Later that night after his parents went to sleep, Danny steels his resolve and sneaks back down into the lab and releases the ghost back into the ghost zone.

This happens a handful of times, until, finally, frustrated, Danny tells the latest captured ghost to tell anyone inside that if they even think about coming through, he'll capture them and bring them back to the zone himself. It's for their own safety.

The ghost agrees, and goes back inside. Danny steals a "failed" thermos from his parents' stash of weapons. The next time that a ghost shows up, its the lunch lady from episode one. Danny manages to defeat her without being seen, but knows that if there's gonna be consistent daytime ghost attacks then he can't base his luck around fighting without witnesses.

So he fashions himself with a makeshift outfit. This really only consists of an old, nondescript hoodie and a plain black face mask. Its the best thing he can do at short notice, however. Later, for his nighttime ghost fighting, his outfit is only slightly better.

He considered using one of his parents' lab suits. But white sticks out at night and the material doesn't protect you from road burn. His outfit is pretty homemade, with knee and elbow pads under his clothes and multiple layers. A long sleeve shirt over a hoodie over a black denim vest he found on sale. He later on manages to make brass knuckles ghost-proof and manages to stitch them into his gloves. (he gets very good at sewing).

His favorite part of the entire outfit, is a Casey Jones-style full-face mask he found while thrifting. It allows him better breathability than the face mask he was using (calling Rule Of Cool law here), and he can use his scary eyes to make him look more intimidating. His gloves, his mask, and his thermos are the things he carries around with him constantly, and, later on, wears baggier clothing to hide the fact that he's wearing knee and elbow gear under his clothes.

Did I mention he has long hair? Danny has long hair (because GNC danny ftw, it goes past his shoulders) that he braids back. it's a bit sloppy but it keeps his hair out of his face well enough. He takes the fenton creep stick with him.

(He and Bruce have, ultimately, a more lean build than a bulky one. It helped Bruce with his Brucie Wayne persona big time when he had to look like a pretty skinny boy, he uses body language, optical illusion, and body armor to make himself look bulkier as batman)

He still goes by the name Phantom. He still has a bitter rivalry with his parents, who have no idea that its him. They think he's probably some other ghost with beef with the other ghosts (he still triggers their ghost sensors), and still want to capture him.

He doesn't talk around the living. He doesn't have any fancy voice changer and dropping his voice hurts and ultimately, he just uses ASL if he ever has to talk in front of people. The ghosts know his voice at night, but not during the day.

He hardly talks to the living. He avoids them like the plague actually. When he defeats a ghost and there's an audience, he barely sticks around to have a nice friendly chat. He tries to get away as soon as possible. He's paranoid over people finding out who he is. He doesn't have that ghost form to fall back on here.

Oh god this is getting so long, so i'll post another part soon.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 4.5 (Dani interlude) Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.5 (Dan Interlude) Part 8

#danny phantom #danny phantom au #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dc x dp #dp crossover #danny fenton is a clone #dpxdc #his mask is casey jones inspired because i think its sick as fuck #it looks like a skull kinda and i think it plays into the whole 'ghost fighter' thing #his jacket has some kind of stitching on the back that's ghost like #he has a cartoon ghost stitched into his breast pocket

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delicatebarness · 7 months ago

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the manuscript | prologue

Summary: The first encounter.

Warnings: Age Gap. (Dr Barnes: late 40s & Reader: 18 in this part)

Word Count: 837

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A/N: Oh, hello Dr. Barnes. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Tags: Let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list!

The university loomed before you, the ivy-clad walls and gothic spires stood as testaments to the centuries of academic excellence. Renowned for its rigorous standards, the prestigious institution drew in the brightest minds from across the globe. You stepped through the grand archway, the air humming with the energy of countless scholarly pursuits, each echoing through the hallowed halls.

You haven’t long turned 18, now a freshman, driven by a passion for creative writing. Your nights were spent hunched over notebooks, pouring your heart into stories and poems. Determined to make the most of this opportunity, you reflected on your talent that earned you a place here. With the best and brightest. It was a new chapter of your academic journey, and it started today.

Dr. James B. Barnes is a brilliant literature professor yet, reserved. His reputation preceded him– known for his profound insights and standards, he was feared and revered by his students. As you approached his office, your heart began to race.

Tucked away in a quiet corner of the library, stood a heavy oak door with a brass nameplate glinting in the dim light. You took a deep breath and knocked firmly. Creaking open the door, you revealed Dr. Barnes. Sat behind a cluttered desk, his gaze lifted from a pile of papers, meeting yours. Piercing yet thoughtful, there was a moment of silent assessment.

You felt the weight of his scrutiny as you stepped inside. The room smelled of leather with a faint trace of whiskey.

“Good afternoon,” you begin, trying to steady your voice despite the nerves. “I’m going to be joining your advanced English literature class.”

“Ah, yes,” he responded, his tone measured. “You must be the freshman. Please, have a seat.”

You took a seat in the heavy leather chair opposite his desk. The two of you exchange a few professional courtesies, keeping the conversation brief but charged with mutual respect. You could sense that he had recognized your passion, and you were determined to prove yourself.

A week later, you found yourself attending his class, surrounded by fellow students. His presence was commanding as he stood at the front of the room. A masterful blend of critical analysis and profound insight, his lectures were delivered with authority.

Your hand raised after a particularly challenging lecture, Dr. Barnes acknowledged you with a nod.

“Yes?”

“I have to disagree with your interpretation of his work,” you say, your voice clear and confident. A stark contrast from your first meeting with him. “I believe his use of fragmented narrative serves as a challenge to the notion of a singular, authoritative voice, rather than to obscure meaning.”

The room fell silent, all eyes turned to you. Dr. Barnes regards you with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance.

“Interesting perspective,” he replied, keeping his tone cool. “However, I would argue that the fragmentation serves more to reflect the chaotic nature of postmodern existence.”

You don’t back down. “Isn’t that chaos a direct challenge to traditional narrative structures? He seems to be inviting readers to find their own meaning within the disarray.”

Your heated debate ensues, intellectual electricity cranking the air. Your classmates watched, their gazes swapping between you and Dr. Barnes like they were at Wimbledon as you exchanged arguments.

Initially, he was annoyed by your boldness, yet you caught a flicker of intrigue in his eyes. You thrived on pushing boundaries and testing limits, in particular, with those you found intellectually stimulating and authoritative. Leaving everyone, including Dr. James B. Barnes, captivated.

“Your argument is well-crafted,” he concedes, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “I look forward to more discussions like this.”

As the weeks passed, Dr. Barnes’ class quickly became the highlight of your week. A battlefield of ideas in each session, a place where you could push your intellectual prowess. Dr. Barnes, though initially reserved, seemed to relish the debates as much as you did.

One chilly autumn afternoon, you lingered after another stimulating class as the other students left. The room fell quiet, as though itself was in thought and reflection. Dr. Barnes noticed and approached you.

“Good work today,” he said, his tone less sharper than usual. “You’ve brought a new energy to these discussions.”

“Thank you,” you smile, a rush of pride coursed through you. “Your classes challenge me in ways I never expected.”

He nodded, “To challenge and to inspire, that’s the point of academia. Keep questioning, you could go far.”

You smiled again, your cheeks becoming flushed. “I’m glad you’re not tired of my questions yet.”

“On the contrary,” he said as he leaned closer, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that caused your heart to race. “I find them… refreshing.”

The flicker of something unspoken passed between you, a deeper connection yet to be explored. His words echoed as you left the lecture hall, the promise in his eyes lingered.

What were the boundaries between student and teacher? And, could they transform into something more profound?

- - -

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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levisrations · 4 months ago

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Tw: none? Pure fluff. Modern Levi. Gn reader

Why am i thinking about you and Levi buying a home together, it’s old and needs a lot of love. So you both blow through your savings to make your dream house. You both start taking things out and down yourselves before you get to more complicated parts and that’s when you hire professionals to keep things going. You both spend HOURS and late nights planning everything, meeting with your contractors to tell them your vision to see if it’s possible.

Then when everything is rebuilt and refurbished the more exciting part begins and that’s ordering furniture and appliances. You both already had an idea of keeping things looking like the house was meant to since you both hate modern houses and white beige gray colors. Your house has a brick fireplace, intricate designs throughout the house that people just don’t do anymore. It looks like a house straight out the 1920’s but with better plumbing and electrical. And a more stable foundation.

Anyways you in particular are going nuts looking up stoves, fridges, couches, bed frames and Levi is also very much part of the decision but he lets you have a final say because of how happy you are. You’re best purchase is your classic gas stove. It has brass hardware and you’re in love. Levi loves it too. Also you get a claw foot bath tub, that’s Levis favorite thing (other than your state of the art washer and dryer WITH an agitator).

Your house feels complete. Years of saving, months of hard work, and some time sleeping and sitting on the floor and eating on trays meant to eat in front of the tv while furniture was being delivered. Oddly enough the giant L shaped couch was the one piece that took months to arrive! Levi was fed up and put his foot down and demanded it be canceled and to refund your money. But surprise that couch was then delivered in two days and got a discount. Salesman didn’t wanna lose that commission I guess.

You both created a beautiful home ready to be filled with all types of memories. Maybe you’ll start a family or maybe it will just be the two of you and your 5 cats (what a nightmare moving them in the house that car ride was filled with so much crying). Who knows what could happen in there! But you’re both 100 percent sure you’re gonna grow old in that house together.

#levi ackerman #levi #attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #aot #levi x reader #levi aot #levi ackerman fluff #levi fluff

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

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Treat You 1

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, violence, mentions of abuse, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (Tall!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You stumble out into the hallway, nearly colliding with the dingy and peeling paint on the wall. The door slams with the force of your frantic exit, nails bending painfully as you let go of the brass knob. Your heart pulses in your ears as another crash bangs from inside the apartment and your father's tirade blazes on.

You untangle your bag, the only thing you could snatch as you stepped halfway into your shoes. The doorknob twists again and you quickly flee down the hall, your father yanking at the door as it jams. You quickly veer down the staircase and only stop at the top of the next flight to pull your shoes on all the way.

You catch your breath at the front door, aware of how Mrs. Davis’ door snaps shut when you pass. You continue outside without a destination in mind. You could hide out at the library again, no one notices you there. It is a bit far to walk.

You sling the crochet bag over your head so it hangs against your hip. You reach inside and find your change purse. You don't have much after the electric bill. Two bucks, it's three to get the bus.

You huff and tuck your hand back in your bag. Your feet carry you as you wind down the street. The apathetic rush of traffic makes you feel invisible. You don't mind that, it's more dangerous to be seen.

There's nothing remarkable about you. You're taller than most girls but that's more worthy of ridicule than admiration. You wear second-hand clothing, some of it your dad's handmedowns, and hunch until your spine hurts. An elephant trying to play fawn.

You chew your lip and stop by the vintage shop. Not the Goodwill but the expensive place with the designer houndstooth and Louis Vuitton logos. In another world…

Across the street, a night club stands desolate and eerie in the daylight. A few times you passed during opening and it was rowdy and flashing. Just on your way to the bus station to spend a couple hours on a bench.

On the next street, a cafe. The place that closed then opened only weeks later. New ownership but everything else the same. The prices aren't as steep as the Starbucks kiosk near the station.

You ponder it, stopping outside as you see a woman behind the counter. You're a bit relieved it's not the usual barista. That guy with reddish hair and warm brown eyes. He likes to talk, too bad you don't.

You enter and approach the till. The woman greets you brightly, her eyes look tired, and she points out to the specials. Nope, you can only afford a tea.

You pay for the green tea and way for her to pour the hot water. As you tap your fingers on the counter, another figure appears from behind the espresso machine. It's that guy. Dang.

“Hey, done break, your turn,” he chirps, quieting as he sees you standing there. He smiles, “oh, hi, you been helped?”

You nod and look down. The woman places the cup of steaming water in front of you. You thank her and take it, turning to claim the seat in the corner.

You sit and settle in with your bag in your lap. You don't have much to do so you stare out the window. Pedestrians pass by, with purpose, some even happily.

The cafe is quiet. There's a couple nesr the opposite wall, on a date, maybe. The ambiance holds even as people come in, ordering and leaving with their drinks.

You blow on your tea and sip. You tug the string of the bag and dip it up and down. Your dad will tire himself out soon. Maybe two hours. You can't make one tea last that long.

You put your arm on the table and curl your shoulders. You trace a finger on the tabletop. You usually keep a book in your bag but you took it out to read last night.

You frown. It shouldn't be like this but that's just how it is. You don't have much of a choice. Your dad is your family, your only family, all you have.

You wiggle your nose and swallow back your self-pity. No use crying. Especially here.

“Hi,” the voice frightens you as the barista approaches with a cinnamon bun on a plate, “uh, I'm Peter, remember? Saw you last week?”

You blink. You press your palms to the cup and feel the heat threaten to blister. He's short, his shoulders broad, and his posture straight.

“Er, you want a cinnamon bun?”

“I… no, I don't have the money,” you rasp and sip your tea.

“On the house,” he insists, “really, there was a mix up this morning and we made a batch too many.”

“That's nice but… no thank you.”

You know what it is to accept favours. They always come back to debts. You lower your head again.

“You don't like sweets? We have quiche–”

You shake your head. He hovers, waiting. You turn to watch out the window again. You wince as the plate clinks onto the table. He leaves the bun there and goes back behind the counter. You ignore it.

Maybe you won't come here anymore.

#peter parker #dark peter parker #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #au #the club #drabble #series #treat you #spider-man #mcu #marvel

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brasselectricalcomponents · 5 months ago

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Top-Quality Brass Electrical Parts Manufacturers in Jamnagar India

GK Metals is a leading manufacturer of premium quality brass electrical parts and components in Jamnagar, India. Our durable and precisely crafted brass plug pins, brass terminal blocks, brass neutral links ensures reliable performance in various electrical applications.

#brass electrical parts manufacturers in jamnagar #electrical brass parts manufacturers in jamnagar #brass electrical components manufacturer #brass pin manufacturers Jamnagar #brass electrical parts #brass terminal blocks #brass neutral links #brass neutral bars #brass electrical terminal connector #brass pin suppliers #brass electrical pins

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shiraishi--kanade · 8 months ago

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Subjectively rating everyone's instrument match ups from this official art for Sekai Symphony 2024

Without individual pictures because I'm on mobile.

Leo/need:

Ichika (electric guitar): sigh... Girl why are you like this. Unfathomable. I'll let it slide because it's Ichika. Rating: electic guitar/10.

Saki (violin): Saki does not give me violin vibes at all but I'm sure she'll kill it if she actually wanted to learn. 5/10

Honami (oboe): I'm deeply offended Honami isn't in the percussion section. 2/10

Shiho (trombone): the most non-brass player brass player known to world. I don't see how it fits her. 1/10

Overall rating: they don't get you like I do girls I'm so sorry

More More Jump:

Minori (trumpet): absolutely incredible. Yes she's a trumpet girlie. I can totally see that. 10/10

Haruka (flute): yes. Oh my god yes. She is so flute-coded she can rival only Mafuyu. 10/10

Airi (viola): very mean. Let her in the violin section. That said I can already see at least three interesting story lines connected to that. Carry on. 10/10

Shizuku (harp): need I say more? 10/10

Overall rating: they would carry the entire orchestra on their backs, 10/10

Vivid Bad Squad:

Kohane (saxophone): the mental image is hilarious and I can totally see Kohane falling in love with the sax but she gets points taken away from her because saxophone is so not a protagonist instrument. 8/10

An (double bass): ...well someone needed to be a bass player but An is not that someone. She's not even tall enough. Free her. 3/10 because at least she looks like she's having fun.

Touya (trombone): hehe funky slide go brrr. Yeah I can see that. 8/10

Akito (violin): I've told you he has violin vibes. I told you so. Absolutely perfect pick. I think Akito would be a good concertmaster as well. 10/10

Overall rating: decent picks but An was done dirty and should have been a cellist. 7/10

Wonderlands x Showtime:

Tsukasa (cymbals): my condolences to all the percussion section but also yeah that makes sense. 10/10

Nene (cello): itty bitty cellist her instrument is almost as tall as she is. I definitely see the image though. 10/10

Emu (tambourine): she will insure her part will he heard. That said I think she'd do better at the marimba or other percussion instruments. At least it's not a triangle? 7/10

Rui (viola): I did not consider that option before and now I'm considering it. I'm considering it so hard. Incredible. 9/10

Overall rating: they're thriving. 9/10

Nightcord at 25 am:

Kanade (viola): yes. Yes. I can see that. Go forth my child. Make the viola gang proud. 10/10

Mafuyu (flute): that's a flute player if I've ever seen one. 10/10

Ena (violin): oh her having the same instrument as Akito would destroy both of them and me in the process. I could write a novel about it. 10/10

Mizuki (trumpet): they're just having fun and being silly. 10/10

Overall rating: truly Sega's favourite child. 10/10

No VS rating because they have different enough personalities between units that I have no idea how to rate them! Sorry!

#jay rambles.txt #project sekai

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zablife · 5 months ago

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i loved Ode to Brass Knuckles 🫶 maybe a part 2 where reader uses the brass knuckles gifted to her on Johnny 😉 he thinks she's crazy at first (or he got caught off guard when she takes it out) but he ends up really, really enjoying it 🫣

Oh, this is such a sinful thought, my love! By all means, let's add to the first part...

I can imagine Johnny's surprise the first time he's lying back against the couch cushions, a haze closing around the corners of his vision from the blows he sustained, darkened by the beer Benny's given him to stave off the pain.

"You did good tonight, baby. Sit back and relax now,” you tell him in a soft, soothing voice, cheek pressed against his thigh, as you nestle between his wide spread legs.

He tilts his chin back, forearm resting over his eyes as you free him from his trousers. A soft grunt emerges from his parted lips as you take his semi erect cock in your hand. Then he moans at the softness of your fingertips, laced with a distinct firmness to your grasp. Brow twitching at the tantalizing new sensation of smooth metal, he can't help but notice how good it feels.

He has an idea what it could be, smirking from beneath his arm, but his breath is stolen when he pries one eyelid open to watch you lick the precum from the shining gold of the brass knuckles you wear, tongue eager to chase every sticky drop from between the glistening rings.

As you add the warmth of your mouth to the equation, the combination of sensations sends him into the throes of ecstasy, head thrown back and hips bucking wildly for more. Perhaps it's the fog clouding his brain, but tonight he gives over to your need for dominance.

The sight of him aching for you is all you need to proceed with your plan, pushing his limits the way he's done to you so many times before. Taking a moment to survey his heaving chest, you slowly move a hand lower along his pelvis, a hum of reassurance against the head of his cock to keep him calm.

As you rest your weapon beneath his balls, he shudders slightly and the feeling of power sends a charge of electricity down your spine. It gives you the courage to begin circling your wrist lower and lower until you're resting against his ass and as the pressure intensifies, he bears down on it without thinking, chasing a high like he's never known.

#zablife ask box #Johnny Davis x reader

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whumped-by-glitter · 7 months ago

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Chapter 1, Part 2: The Slave Quarters

⚠️CW: Institutionalized slavery, degradation, dehumanization, objectification, emotional whump, blood/licking blood, food whump (starvation/poisoning), sadistic whumper, cold calculating whumper, multiple whumper, sensory deprivation, fantasy whump, Bullying.

As always, a HUGE shout out to my tumblr bestie and beta reader @3-2-whump.

Story under the cut

⏮️ Previous

None of the other slaves were up yet, so the mutt moved silently so as not to wake them. Quickly, he got dressed in the tattered clothes he was allotted. At least they were a slight improvement against the autumn cold over the thin shorts they were given for sleep. He grabbed a candle from a shelf under the non-glassed window headed to the tiny bathroom to finish getting ready for the day. He lit the candle after closing the door and began straightening himself up for the day. He ran a brush through his unkempt hair, taming it only marginally, then washed his face with cold water.

Everything was always so cold, he tried to summon his dream and imagine the warm hands again, but unfortunately the leftover sensations were fading fast. To be honest so was his hope of feeling them again. That day was almost 5 years ago now, and he’d never felt them since. Realistically they probably had decided they didn’t want him. He wouldn’t blame them. He was stunted- not as strong or as tall as other Drar. His body also held on to injuries. Unlike the others with smooth, perfect skin, his body was marred by every mistake he had ever made, a lattice work of layered scars. He couldn’t possibly be good enough for that warmth.

Once the mutt was reasonably presentable, he settled down at the desk to study until his master unlocked the door to the building they were kept in at night.

He was supposed to study whenever he wasn’t actively being used. His master expected him to memorize everything about the poisons he was forced to consume and there was around a hundred of them in all, so it was a constant process.

After about an hour or so, he other slaves started to wake, some earlier than others.

“Reading again?” one of them scoffed, pulling the book out from under Dog. No surprise, it was Zan, someone Dog had never gotten along with. “Why do you get to know how to read but we don’t? What makes you so special?”

Zan was an owned slave that was brought to Master for training. He was the only one that actually wore brass bands, signifying he was owned by a commoner. The rest that were called brass bands actually wore silver like him, they were being trained for brass roles though and thus referred to as such.

The dog grabbed the book back without a word. Corvius would skin him if any damage came to it. It was very rare and very old, containing information on every known poison in not only Tallis, but all of Devros.

“Oh right, I forgot, you aren’t allowed to talk to the rest of us,” Zan sneered. “You’re too good for us humble brass bands. Better than us.”

Better? Hardly. Dog kept his gaze on the floor. He knew looking the other slave in the eyes would cause punishment from the metal around his neck and limbs. It was true. He was forbidden from speaking, or making any noise really, from evening to morning. The rule was depressing enough without it being rubbed in. He longed for the warmth the rest of them had in the evening, laughing and telling stories. Corvius said he didn’t want the slave distracted and that he needed to spend his time off studying. He took a breath, conjuring the comforting scent of his future master once again. ‘It’s all for them,’ he reminded himself. Even as he told himself this, he knew he should give up on the idea, though.

“Why is it you are so special? Huh? Why do you get to learn to read while the rest of work hard all day?” Zan spat.

Dog didn’t respond, he couldn’t, if he made a sound the silver bands of metal around his neck and limbs would make it feel like electricity ripping through his body. He wanted too, though. He deeply wished he could talk and joke with the rest of them. Being a slave was hard, but being alone was so much harder.

Dog would much rather be working with the rest of them than studying what the poisons he was forced to take were doing to his body. The other slaves had friendship and comradery; Dog had nothing. ‘What do you want from me, I don’t even have a name,’ he thought pitifully. His only consolation was the gentle thrumming warmth his bands sent through his body for resisting the impulse to speak. A reward for obeying Corvius’ order of silence. The warmth he always pictured a hug to have. Though he’d never had one, he desperately wanted one, they looked so warm.

Smack! A loud sound echoed off the stone walls. Dog’s head violently whipped to the side with the force of the other Drar’s blow.

Zan laughed loudly, “Not going to do anything about it are you little cur? You never do. You can’t even look me in the eye.”

Dog continued to look at the floor, his face still turned to the side. The other Slave was right, he had no intention of defending himself.

“Pathetic,” Zan spat, “You are an embarrassment.”

Zan’s loudmouth drew attention of other slaves, and Dog could feel eyes on him.

“Zan! Knock it off. He has a hard enough time without you adding to it,” Ruby cut in, scolding her fellow brass band. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready before you’re late anyway?”

“Oh, screw you, as if I need you to tell me what to do,” Zan mumbled in response, walking off.

Ruby gently ruffled Dog’s hair, causing him to involuntarily lean into her soft touch, savoring it. Her voice was gentle, “Please don’t take his words to heart. It's just……” she paused, her voice going soft. “It's just, he’s just afraid of becoming you, we all are to be honest.” He could feel her concerned gaze on him, before she walked off to get ready herself.

The dog kept his usual neutral expression on his face. He didn’t blame them, if he had the choice, he wouldn’t want to be him either. Broken, personality stomped out, body ruined by poison, none of it was wanted.

@whumperofworlds, @skittles-the-whumpee, @whumpsandbumps, @wounds-seen-and-unseen, @generic-whumperz

@emptycalories-splitlip, @pigeonwhumps, @i-eat-worlds

As always, if you would like to be added to my tag list or I forgot to properly flag something, please just let me know!

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#my whump writing #devros #tw institutional slavery #tw dehumanization #tw emotional whump #see the CW list for complete warnings

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thumpypuppy · 5 months ago

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oo! your last ask was really interesting! do you have anything to say on the relation between the various Loop related tracks?

it’s very cool that you’re talking about your music in such a way, thank you for engaging with this community!

So Loop's theme is just kinda silly weird mysterious. There's a chromatic walkup at the beginning of the melody because weird and silly.

Loop's hangout is one of the few tracks written by Alice Liston, who is no longer with the studio, but she's an incredibly talented composer who took a lot of the fundamental aspects of the original song and turned it into something dreamy, which I emphasized with some unique instrumentation.

Spoilers ahead:

The Loop fight is yet another one of my MEGA BATTLE compositions where I go ham because it's a fight song and I have to do way too much.

We start with that chromatic walk up in our classic title theme synth and immediately launch into Sandra's intense drums backed with Spitfire Audio's Albion ONE strings to fill out some space.

There are a couple of wild synth solos here written again by Alice Liston, and the drums move into a standard time with a staggered syncopation before jumping back into double time on the riff. Toward the end we build into a kind of combination prog rock EDM drop, and then…

Lo-fi! We take everything down here to a more sonically simplified version using some synth guitar designed in MASSIVE, a couple of simple wave forms, and some bit-crushed drums. We also introduce a new simple counter-melody here with a fairly straightforward motif we repeat while the exact notes change depending on the chord. We're still riffing on Loop's theme at this point, but we're adding some more context.

(Side-note: If you're interested in emulating vintage consoles of a particular era, one of the most important things to look up is the system's sample rate and bit depth! I'm 37 so "vintage" in this case is like… Commodore 64, NES, SNES, PS1, Sega Genesis, Neo-Geo, etc. It's also important to look up for something like the N64 where a lot of the sound design came from, like a lot of DX7 presets.)

Now with a powerful fill from the live kit we come back to our normal instrumentation, restating our previous section. Toward the end of this section we slowly build in our strings ramping up to a half-time breakdown that will lead into a totally new part.

The strings build intensity while also taking the responsibility of playing our main Loop melody, and we throw in a Dormont-style counter-melody to add to a sense of nostalgia as we ramp up our heart-string tugging.

Next, we bring in lead guitar-style synth to double our Loop melody that's playing in the strings to add an extra helping of epicness because come on, an electric guitar playing over the soprano part of a string section is like pique epic/dramatic.

Meanwhile the drums are still going in half-time to give it a breakdown feel (especially leaning on that china cymbal to give it a classic death metal breakdown feel), but at this point we're starting to get more embellishments and double kicks to make use of the space left to build further intensity until we hit that 80s metal crash mute and pause for emphasis, and then tom roll into our next section.

With the break into a new section we're saying NO MORE! We're getting serious now! We have a lovely riff written by Sadie Greyduck, which has a really uncomfortable and tense progression built into it that's emphasized by the strings that have moved to the very high soprano range to keep tension.

Then on our next repeat we jump into yet another solo! This one was partially written by Alice Liston, but ultimately I ended up fitting it into context and completing it. One thing you'll notice here is that there are a lot of passing tones and chromatic walk-ups to emphasize the Loop-ness of the situation.

Now we're jumping into yet another me(n)tal breakdown! This is more riffing on the Loop melody, but then we hear that brass section jump in! We're moving forward and doing a little more light riffing while the rest of the band takes us home in a slightly stronger and more triumphant fashion.

Finally we pick up the pace and we're back to our old classic, the title theme, but it's add odds with the context it exists in and starts to move in a spacier direction, eventually morphing back into Loop's theme.

For the album version we put a cap on it with a piano restatement of the beginning of the song!

(Also I finally looked it up and the other piano I used besides Spitfire Labs "Soft Piano" is Native Instruments "The Gentleman".)

Honestly I love fight/boss themes so much and they're always so fun to work on because I can go ham and the people I work with can do some of their more extreme work, plus it's always an excuse for Sandra to go nuts on the drums.

Thank you so much for sending in your ask! We're always so happy to get these and to hear how much our work has affected so many people! 🐶💙

#game audio #in stars and time #game soundtrack #isat #isat ost #ask #sadie greyduck #isat spoilers

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sweetestlittledarling · 3 months ago

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Hear Me Out: M6 as Dnd Monsters

Note: For @vesuviaweekly Prompt of 'Hear Me Out'

So, I had an idea a while back about a monster creature AU where the M6 were monster creatures. They were still themselves just monsters, and it got me thinking as another one of my loves is Dungeons and Dragons, and as most people know that has a big book dedicated to all sorts of monsters. So, with the help of my fellow players and my dm I started crafting some idea of which Dnd Monsters the M6 would be. These are just my opinions after some long thought (and help from others) and if you have any other ideas or maybe a comment or two, please don’t hesitate to comment or message. I would love to hear other people’s ideas.

Asra: Yuan Ti

So originally, I thought of a Naga since that is what I think of for half snake/half human. But when I looked them up in the Monster Manual, I realized that a Naga in Dnd is more a snake with a human looking face. So, I went on to the next snake-based race and settled on the Yuan Ti. Now Yuan Ti can come in many forms as they can have a snake as basically any body part (like really, my dm showed me), but I imagine Asra is the variety that is half human on top and snake below. His snake coloring, I always thought should be similar to Faust with the cornflower snake, and he is a very agile climber and swimmer. Asra also enjoys basking in the sun to warm along with Faust and gives great hugs.

Julian: Were-Raven

I could make this entire list ‘Were’ creatures, but I figured that would be too easy, so I am giving that honor to Julian. I am doing this mostly because his Reverse form reminds me of Howl from ‘Howl’s Moving Castle’ and that always made me think of a raven transformation. According to the Dnd lore Were-Ravens are amongst the most intelligent of the were creatures but are very rare, mostly existing in the world of Ravenloft and Strahd (one of my favorite games to play btw). They also can have three forms: Human, large raven, and human/raven hybrid. In my head I think Julian is a little embarrassed by his raven form, but he does love to fly. He also likes to nest and collect shinny things.

Nadia: Silver Dragon

I wanted something regal for Nadia as well as intelligent and in Dnd lore there is nothing more intelligent or regal then a dragon. In Dnd lore dragons have two gods who were once one, Bahamut and Tiamat. Bahamut is like the father and gentler of the two, having control of the Metallic colored dragons: Gold, Silver, Bronze, and Brass. Silver in particular are probably the most human like and like the cooler weather. They are also highly intelligent and do not enjoy combat, looking to avoid it. I imagine that Nadia’s entire family could be dragons and would be a noble family house.

Murial: Giant (Storm Probably)

Like I said with Julian I could make this whole list were creatures and make Muriel a were-bear or were-wolf, but I felt that would be too easy. I wanted Muriel to be a forest protector as well as be reclusive, to which my Dm, pointed out that he would probably be a good giant. So, giants are often found in homes away from the human world, a lot of the time on mountains or in forests. Storm giants in particular get along with a lot of the native wildlife. They are also known to have magical affinity which of course connects to Muriel. Storm giants are often able to discharge electricity which would be an interesting effect I think when Muriel is upset. I have the idea that he is able to control his size with a spell, though only to an extent and sometimes has to step away into the forest when he has to grow to his actual giant size.

Portia: Were-Cat

Portia was tough to figure out because I didn’t want to just go with Tabaxi (the Dnd cat people) because it just didn’t feel right. So, I lied and made two were-creatures on this list (though I guess it makes sense they are in the same family). Were-cats, like were-ravens, have three forms (Human, cat, and a hybrid of the two) and can communicate with cats. They are also great charmers who have skills in getting out of trouble. I mean I could just imagine Portia turning into a cat and running around with Pepi. I also think she would enjoy getting head pats and scratches behind the ears.

Lucio: Red Dragon

So, I mentioned the Metallics, I now have to talk about the Chromatics. The Chromatic dragons are seen over by Tiamat and a little bit more on the malevolent side. Red dragons have fiery tempers and a great deal of pride which sounds a lot like a certain count. I imagine when he gets angry, he spouts a bit of fire from his nose and grows a bit scalier. He is also very prone to starting things on fire by accident while in a rage. He also has horns that wrap kind of like a goat.

And for a little self-indulgence:

Robin/Lark/Sparrow (My AU Apprentices): Harpies

In my monster AU, my apprentices are Harpies, half bird/half humans. Usually in Dnd lore harpies are female but I can make an exception in this case. Sparrow likes to sing but Harpies are known to lure people with a dangerous song, so she often doesn’t though Julian really enjoys her voice and they both make nests.

Lark enjoys flying and often is seen doing tricks, which is great because he has a very large love to jump off of to get some height.

Robin enjoys watching the sun set from a high perch which is good because Asra also enjoys climbing, and snuggling.

#vesuvia weekly #hear me out #arcana game #arcana m6 #julian devorak #asra alnazar #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #nadia satrinava #lucio morgasson #arcana apprentice

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