#Ambient Border
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【Hikaru】 Ambient Border After Event Live corner cut [20230519]
& Survivor acoustic ver. [20230520]
Hikaru's recent performance on Music Champ. Because the video quality is not ideal, I didn't upload them to Google Drive but just to Bilibili.
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youtube
【Vlog】 Eating My Favourite Foods 【Disney Sea】
Hello, this is Hikaru. Thank you for watching! This time, I am sharing a Vlog of what I ate at Disney Sea together with my friend on my day off! The video is a bit all over the place 😂 I hope you will still enjoy it 🍀
(※This video is not sponsored)
I am always looking for video suggestions so please share them 📝
Awww, what a shame, I wish we would have seen more of her actually eating all those delicious looking foods but this was still fun. Kinda makes me want to go to Disney Sea again. And of course it reminds me of the times when Kalafina went to Disney Sea together~
(Can't believe this has been my icon here on Tumblr for over a decade XD)
Hikaru Supports C.C.C. Castmates
Hikaru went to see C.C.C.'s 11th STAGE "PRIMARY ETUDE". She has previously been working together with the theatre group on the play "Ambient Border".
Tweet 1 | Tweet 2 | Tweet 3 | Tweet 4 | Tweet 5 | Tweet 6 | Tweet 7
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Noise Without Borders
All Profits Go To Charity
#technovore#noise#cyberpunk#noisemusic#noisecore#harsh noise#noise rock#post punk#shoegaze#drone music#drone metal#glitch music#ambient#noise without borders#bandcamp#power electronics#vaporwave#dark ambiance#no wave
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James Holden’s Imagine This Is A High Dimensional Space Of All Possibilities
#james holden#imagine this is a high dimensional space of all possibilities#border community#music#electronic#experimental#idm#new age#techno#downtempo#electronica#ambient#bandcamp
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youtube
Jacquie Joy - Journey to the Border
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“Oscar Moreno is a Mexican-born screenwriter and director who just had his first feature released on Tubi. It’s called ENTE. It’s a creepy movie. The goal of this conversation is to make you click on Tubi real fast, so here’s another link to ENTE, free to stream now on Tubi.
Topics include: a working definition of “border horror”, going back and forth between Ciudad Juarez and El Paso, real-looking people on a movie screen, the reality of being a fully bilingual writer in 2023, the great screenwriter strike of 2023, shooting on a micro-budget, the film Nuevo Orden and “being judged in the court of public opinion”, composer Carolyn Koch, “letting real life touch your own work”, “trying to figure out the smallest scale version of your ideas possible and from there, any additions that may seem extravagant are placed on the story because the story actually needs them”, fictional projects getting shelved because similar stories end up happening in real life with grim consequences, and the satisfaction of accomplishing your goals despite the odds.
ENJOY.”
#Oscar moreno#tubi#longform interview#microbudget#mexico#ciudad juarez#mexican cinema#microbudget horror#carolyn koch#ambient music#border#us mexico border#first movie#first feature#KAZ#wga strike
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youtube
Crimen ambiental en Bucarabones
#youtube#Crimen ambiental en Bucarabones#puerto rico#la corrupción en puerto rico#municipio de toa alta#alcalde de toa alta#la politica sucia en puerto rico#crimen ambiental en puerto rico#corrupt politicians#toa alta#desastre en puerto rico#desastre ambiental en puerto rico#guapetones de barrio#desastre ecologico en Puerto Rico#Puerto Rico un pais al border del desastre#corrupcion en puerto rico#politicos de puerto rico#esto es pr#politicos incompetentes#politicos basura#politicos de mierda#despierta boricua#para los puertorriqueños#esto es puerto rico#corrupción en puerto rico
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a/n: hihi @bri22222 !! tumblr for some reason ate your ask in my inbox but here is the cat demon!reader taking care of sick alastor request you sent <3 i hope you like it!
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You had taken it upon yourself to become Alastor's own personal nurse when he got sick, despite his outspoken displeasure in being babied.
He was an Overlord, for god's sake, and one of the most feared at that. There was a certain irritation in him when you would show up to his room (which didn't even have a bed in it until he fell ill and you decided to push one in yourself, much to his dismay).
You'd sport all kinds of goods; warm jambalaya, his own mother's recipe, that he would deny even though he was itching to eat it. Some cough drops that tasted horribly of sickly sweet honey and lemon. Fresh boxes of tissues since he was going through them faster than you could imagine.
The worst of them all was when you would show up at the foot of his bed with little rodents, eyes wide and expectant for praise that would never come. Then you'd settle in his bed, curled up in his lap like you owned the place, and fall asleep.
While the warmth was nice, which he would never admit, and he liked the feeling of his hand smoothing down the hair between your set of drooping feline ears, he's not sure how much more of this he can take.
"You know," he starts one day when you sit at the edge of his bed, straightening out the duvet as you do. "I do wish you would stop fretting over me."
"You're sick," you deadpan. "And you took care of me when I was sick. At least let me return the favour."
He grimaces, remembering how miserable you looked when you caught a nasty flu a few months ago. Who knew cats were so pitiful when sick?
"Really, dear, it's fine! I was just helping a friend."
You frown, unconvinced. "And I'm just helping you back! Come on, you can barely go downstairs to get food by yourself."
"I'm perfectly fine!" He mutters between his grit teeth, smiling bordering on baring his fangs at you. Unfortunately, he doesn't do a very good job at intimidating you. Not after you've already seen his soft side of clinging to you like you're his personal heater.
Of course, his cursed demon body decides to betray him at that exact moment and he falls into a coughing fit, sputtering as he rakes in sharp breaths of air.
You're quick to climb over the bed to him, straddling his lap and forcing him to drink from his glass of water. He glares at you but drinks without refusal.
Alastor is the Radio Demon. Owner of souls. Entertainer extraordinaire. Yet here he is, taken down by a pathetic fever and being coddled by his favourite feline.
He carefully pinches your tail to get you to pull away from him, yelping in the process. "I'm fine," he hisses. "I don't need your help. I don't need to be taken care of!"
Your ears flatten against your head at his tone and you scramble off of his lap, cowering like a wounded animal.
For a moment he feels a flash of remorse, or whatever feeling has replaced what would be guilt in that black heart of his. He even considers opening his mouth to say something more reassuring. But then you scurry out of the room and slam the door behind you. His ears ring from the echo of it, then deathly silence follows.
Alastor reaches over to drink from his water glass on his own, only to realize it was knocked over in the commotion.
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He counts the days that pass, subconsciously or not, and feels his smile shrinking by each daylight.
Sure, he was quick to temper, but he had never lashed out at you before. It's an awful feeling that sinks into his stomach, making him dread what's to come when he fully recovers.
Worst of all, he was wrong. He does need your help.
It was peaceful at first and he enjoyed the silence that came without your company. However, he hadn't realized how accustomed he had grown to your ambient presence.
How had he never realized you were so loud when you made your entrances, or that you purred ever so slightly when he scratched just behind your ears? And was he really so weak that he was thinking of apologizing? He can't stand the idea that he may have frightened or hurt you.
It used to be so easy for him to sit with his own thoughts. Nowadays it's hard without getting to hear about your day or getting to fluster you with his incessant teasing.
He's cold, too. He would gladly let you fetch him a hundred rodents if it meant getting to hold onto you in his sick state.
On the fifth day, he decides he's had enough. The demon doesn't even bother knocking, instead opting to materialize from the shadows and jumpscare you from behind.
"I'm..." he seethes through his teeth, eyes thin and twitching.
You tilt your head at him curiously, prickled hairs flattening back down as confusion replaces your adrenaline. "You... what?"
"I'm sorry," he finally manages to get out, though it comes strained and awkward. Still, he swallows his pride and avoids your eyes while he continues. "I was wrong."
You stare at him blankly for a few seconds, intrigued by the sight of such a powerful Overlord trying to do something as uncharacteristic as apologize. In the end, you can't contain your laughter.
He glowers at you as you topple over in your bed in a fit of giggles, wiping away the tears in your eyes.
"Oh, you sap. Come here!" You sit up and open your arms wide, a big, cheeky (and smug) grin spreading across your face.
Grumbling, Alastor shuffles into your bed and collapses into you, effectively crushing you under him. You don't seem to care, arms tugging him closer and tail brushing over his body.
"You missed me that much?"
"One more word out of you and I am leaving."
"Aww, so that's a yes?"
The Radio Demon only sighs, heavy eyes drifting shut in your warmth.
"Don't get it twisted, dearest. I will not be thanking you for putting rats in my sheets every morning."
~
taglist: @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria (send an ask to be added!)
#🍓 faye's thoughts <3#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel#hazbin x reader#alastor fanfic#alastor fluff#alastor headcanons#alastor fanfiction#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor x you#hazbin hotel fanfic#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin#hazbin fic#alastor fic#radio demon#radio demon x reader
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I saw a prompt/ficlet a while ago (I don't remember by who or where) that I'm gonna piggy back off of.
In an attempt to strike a partnership with Wayne Tech., the Fenton's go to Vlad and he gets them invitations to a gala with a solid 'maybe' on meeting Bruce himself.
Naturally, Danny gets bored and decides to push his luck. How much can he get away with before someone gets suspicious? A lot, apparently.
On the bright side, no one in Gotham seems to be able to see through his invisibility.
Long story short, Danny accidentally starts a cult with himself as the object of worship.
Anyway, a few years later and the reveal goes wrong. He flees to Gotham. The ambient ectoplasm in the air, the natural smog, the fact that no one seems to stay dead for long- he'll blend right in. He hopes.
Turns out, since his accidental cult upstart at the gala a few years ago, a building on the border of Crime Alley has been built/repurposed into a church for his followers.
That explains why he keeps getting stat boots.
There's a space in the top of the building that he claims as his home. It becomes his lair, but he still doesn't have a proper haunt.
One night, someone bangs on the doors of the building, waking Danny, and claims sanctuary. Danny opens the locked door (invisible) and beats up the people who barge in after the man. He claimed sanctuary. Danny knows how this Is supposed to work.
Word gets around fast and suddenly, Danny's accidental church has become neutral ground that no one dares try to break.
Batman and Red Hood have conflicting feelings. The building Is neutral, so they can't move anyone in. It also sits directly on the line of Crime Alley and Greater Gotham.
Bruce wants to investigate because something Is in that building that's actually keeping/giving sanctuary.
Jason insists they leave it be because it's not really doing anything to either of them.
These feelings are only amplified when the Joker breaks sanctuary and is beaten and left unconscious on B's doorstep with a note of warning.
.
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Ok this isn’t Halloween but I would love to see a fic of the first time r spends the night at Aaron’s and she changes into her pj which r these super cute delicate tank and shorts set and Aaron goes crazy!! Like he’s a gentleman obvi (or trying hard to be) but he starts opening my flirting with her and she’s so confused bc usually he’s much more subtle
thank you for your request! ♡ fem, 1k
cw adult theme mdni
You don't bother changing in the bathroom. It's not an attempt to come onto him, though you're wondering if he might want that, but a realistic practice. If Aaron wants to be intimate with you tonight he's going to see much more of you than your bra.
He returns from the bathroom as you're pulling down your camisole. It's a simple pair of pyjamas but made of a more expensive fabric, the shorts bordering immodest and the camisole cupping your breasts with enough support that a quick glance in the mirror tells you what you'd wanted to know; you look cute.
Aaron smiles at you, something unreadable in his expression. His brows lift ever so slightly. "Nice socks."
"I get cold feet sometimes," you say, pressing your fuzzy heels together.
"Yeah?" he asks, pushing his hair out of his face. "Me too."
"What side do you sleep on?" you ask.
"What side do you sleep on?" he asks back. "Go where you want."
You pick a random side, too nervous to think about it in depth. The sheets are crisps to the touch and smell freshly laundered, soft against your naked legs. You feel a little like you're playing make believe all cleaned and washed yourself, your heart in your wrist as you squeeze it, watching him flick off the big light and cross the carpeted floor slowly. His room, his entire apartment, is smart but cosy, ambient lamp light and open space.
"Do you wanna watch TV?" he asks, putting the remote in your lap as he shakes out the sheet and slips in next to you. His body heat is immediately felt. His knee brushes yours as he leans in. "Hold that button down."
Despite what you'd said about cold feet, you're nervous and he runs warm; by the time you've found something to watch on TV he's sewn his arm through yours and you're practically running a temperature. You have to take your legs back out and lie atop the sheets.
You pull a knee up. The shorts ease down.
Aaron sinks into the bed with you, his head just a touch higher than your own. "I'm really happy you're here," he says.
"I'm happy too," you say, turning your face to his. Nervous, sure, but this is a milestone for your new relationship you're ecstatic to achieve.
Even if he doesn't have any seductive intention tonight, you're eager to spend the night in his arms. He's older (impossible to ignore), more gentlemanly as a consequence, and during the course of your relationship there have been more important things than sex, like establishing trust with one another, and making sure that your relationship could withstand his constant working.
"I'm really happy," you say, lifting your chin and fireworks erupt in your chest as he leans down to meet you, kissing you gently.
"Is this…" His hand trails to the soft of your stomach, pink brushing your thigh where it's hiked. "Your usual nighttime attire?"
"This is the wanting my boyfriend to like it attire," you confess, because he already knows. Aaron knows everything. He could tell you where you bought them if you gave him long enough.
"Consider them true to form," he says, hand sliding like a heavy, hot weight across your stomach and leaving a worse heat behind. "You look amazing."
"Yeah?" you ask.
His lips skin your cheek. He nudges you with his nose to encourage your head back and kisses softly under the line of your jaw, "They're a little small," he says, kissing between whispers, "the shorts."
"They're not tight," you whisper in turn.
His hand falls to your thigh, spreading your legs a terrible inch as he tugs at the hem of your shorts. His fingertips dip under them a millimetre as he agrees, "No, they're not. Your top, though…"
"It was a matching set. I couldn't choose–"
"Do you have many like it?" he asks, pulling away, meeting your eyes with a charge you've only seen a handful of times. You know exactly what it means, your chest aching with want as his hand comes to rest at the top of your thigh.
"Sure. Two or three."
"That won't do."
You're nervous, but he's your boyfriend. You know more about him than he might think even if you don't know him intimately yet, and his arduousness makes you laugh. He's always been such a gentleman —not many men would ask you to be their girlfriend with a pearl necklace, or invite you to stay the night via text rather than at the end of a date. You'd expected your first time together to be a come up for coffee situation, but he's never propositioned you that way. The text was a sweet surprise, an addition.
Would you like to stay over after dinner on Friday? Let me know. Can't wait to see you either way.
No matter what you want, Aaron wants that too.
You turn into his lap and catch his lips with yours, his hand encroaching on the soft fat of your inner thigh.
His lips part under yours and you take his face into your hands, a giving in if there ever were one, hoping it says everything you're too shy to admit aloud. No matter how much he clearly likes the shorts, he abandons your thigh and hugs your back to him instead, your chests pressed together until yours is heaving for air.
"You're usually more subtle than this," you tease, breathless, good-natured.
"You aren't usually wearing this," he says, his usually smooth voice roughened, "I'm losing my mind."
"Well, we can't have that."
He leans back in, laughing against your lips. When his hand works its way under your camisole, you think about where you can get more pyjamas like these ones considering he likes them so badly, but then his hand crawls higher and the thought leaves your mind for the time being.
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble
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love letter to alterna
words adapted from Stephen Dunn’s Love Poem Near the End Of the World
This was made for class, we had to make a comic that had no panel borders. the layout is strange because this is how it looks like when it’s read (not the best picture;;):
The back of it also has a link to a playlist. It has some songs that remind me of the atmosphere of alterna. They’re a little strange and ambient, just like the soundscapes there!
#splatoon#splatoon 3#alterna#illustration#pen and ink#neo 3#Marie#Callie#captain#splatoon captain#marie splatoon#callie splatoon#splatlands#sea scrolls#Frye#shiver#tri stringer
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Hide and Seek
homelander x f!reader
18+ 6.2k, predator/prey, consensual non-consent, dirty talk, cockwarming, outdoor sex, oral sex, there's a lot. check ao3 for full tag list. shout out to @mari-thesimp and @whatevermonkey for the prompts that inspired this fic!
Summary: You ask Homelander to chase you through the woods and thoroughly ravish you, making sure to ignore any protests. He takes the role very seriously.
AO3 Link.
Nothing could have prepared you for the reality of this moment.
The chase had sounded like such lighthearted fun in theory. A jaunt through the forest with your superpowered boyfriend never far behind, pursuing you through the woods. Upping the ante by agreeing to do it at night seemed, at the time, like simply removing the training wheels.
You were wrong.
The pound of your heart nearly drowns out the sound of branches and woodland debris snapping under foot as you run blindly through the woods, the moon above barely serving illumination through the dense tree canopy. What you hadn’t realized at the start of all this was that your body wouldn’t know the difference between running for your life for fun, and running for your life for real.
A blast as sharp as a gunshot whips by overhead, bowing the trees with the force of it and startling a scream out of you. The startle causes you to lose your footing, and your momentum is too great to catch yourself. You hurdle forwards, rolling end over end into the mess of brambles, landing flat on your back, gasping for breath. You hear the thud of something landing in the distance.
You lay there a moment, brain frantically recalibrating while you stare up at the dense tree cover, trying to catch your breath. That’s when a new sound cuts through the ambient sounds of the forest; someone whistling a cheery little melody. Shortly after that, you begin to hear footsteps.
“You made it further than I thought you would,” Homelander calls into the night, his chipper tone replacing that jaunty whistle. “But c’mon. Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”
You scramble to your feet, bracing against a tree to look wildly around yourself. It’s too dark to even make out his silhouette, but what you see instead turns your insides to ice. Maybe twenty feet away, two glowing red eyes cut through the black of the night, peering around until, abruptly, they lock onto you. The glow of them is just enough to illuminate the way Homelander’s lips pull into a sharp smile. “Got’cha.”
Immediately, you take off running. There’s no thought behind it, nothing but the pure animalistic panic to escape.
He may be the love of your life, but that was terrifying.
The dense treeline breaks into a clearing, and you run for the path of least resistance, even as your muscles scream. A small hill near a babbling stream catches your eye, and though every breath you suck back makes your lungs burn, you push yourself to it, desperate for a place to hide. You skid to a stop just beyond the hill, and then hurl yourself back against it, clamping both hands over your mouth, screwing your eyes shut as you desperately try to quiet yourself.
The agreement was that Homelander would not utilize his x-ray vision. Your only hope was that the sound of the stream might mask the thunder of your heart beating in your chest.
In this state of flight, you find it impossible to gauge the passage of time. It might be seconds that pass, it might be minutes. You can’t fathom it. Either way, it isn’t long before you begin to hear heavy booted footsteps crunching through the underbrush.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Homelander's voice rings out, that wicked smile audible in his tone. "You can come easy, or you can come hard. You're mine either way."
You bite into your own hand, tucking yourself further in against the grassy mound. His words hurl you into a dizzying haze of panic and excitement, leaving your brain bordering on short circuiting, unsure if you should be running from or towards the honied voice calling you from the shadows.
Abruptly, the sound of footsteps stops, and you are left with nothing but the thrum of your heartbeat, and the burble of the stream.Time passes, but still you hear nothing. Tentatively, you peer out around the edge of the mound, into the clearing where you heard him approaching. Seeing nothing, you cautiously rise to your feet and crane to get a better look. Empty. There isn’t a trace of him anywhere.
There’s more light in the clearing, lending a touch to your bravery. You don’t need the cue of his eyes to see him here, but the fact he’s disappeared somewhere into the treeline worries you. You glance down to the river. Perhaps your sound-based subterfuge was successful, and he believes you kept moving forward. You take the opportunity to backtrack, and hopefully throw him off your trail.
After all, if you get back to the cabin by yourself, you win this little game.
Not wanting to run the risk of him hearing you, you pick up a modest trot back towards the thicket you had emerged from. Reaching out to brace your hand on a passing tree, you scream when a crimson gloved hand closes suddenly around your wrist, another hand catching you around the waist and yanking you backwards, lifting you clean off your feet, and up into the air with him.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he tuts. “Not so quick. We haven’t even gotten to enjoy the view together yet,” he says, his words warm huffs in your ear, prickling goosebumps all the way down your spine. You thrash against him with everything you have in you, but you may as well be pounding against pure steel. He’s unyielding. Homelander drops back down onto the ground, and with unbelievable ease, spins you around to pin your back against the tree.
Slotting his thigh between your legs, Homelander lifts you with just that. Effortlessly catching both of your wrists in a single hand, he traps them up above your head. He leans forward, his knee braced against the tree. “There’s my girl,” he purrs, lifting a hand to stroke your cheek. Any other day, you would lean into it. The rumble of his voice when he calls you his never fails to make you melt. Right now, however, the two of you are playing a game, and you aren’t going to be the one to ruin it.
You yank your face away from his hand, leaning as far as you can to the side. “Let me go,” you gasp, still thoroughly out of breath.
“Mm, nope, no. That… That I don’t think I’ll ever do,” he says, catching your jaw tight between his leather clad fingers, yanking you back to face him, forcing you to meet his eyes, which flare a dim crimson. “You’re all mine, sweetheart.”
Homelander kisses you hard, swallowing up the cry you give. You nearly succumb, you almost kiss him back before you remember yourself. Instead, you twist as violently as you can in his grasp, trying anything you can to gain leverage, but nothing works. He has you lifted off your feet, and he’s pressed in too close for you to utilize your legs against him.
Meanwhile, he relishes your struggle. You can feel him smiling against your lips, followed by the hot wet press of his tongue. You yield to him only for the opportunity to bite down hard on the appendage. It’s soft beneath your teeth, but it doesn’t give. There’s nothing you could do that would damage him.
Homelander hums a delighted little noise, breaking the kiss. His smile is like that of a wolf, fangs and all. “Now you’re really getting me excited,” he says, punctuating it with a slow grind up between your legs, startling a moan out of you. He lets go of your face in favor of dragging his hand down your body, cupping your breast through your shirt and squeezing, making you keen. “I was gonna be a gentleman and take you back to the cabin, but if you’re gonna behave like a fucking animal–” he says, his rich, molasses sweet voice veering into a rough growl as he rips your shirt wide open, exposing your chest to the night chill, “–then I will gladly fuck you in the dirt like one.”
Struggling against him only intensifies the friction of his thigh against your pussy, your clit throbbing against firm muscle behind the confines of your pants. You turn your head away as he kisses down your throat, wringing a gasp out of you when he bites down. You feel him chuckle against your skin, dragging his tongue over the stinging mark, his soft hair tickling along your jaw.
“So, what’ll it be? You gonna behave for me?” He asks, drawing back to meet your stare. The question makes you ache, worsens the throb of your clit against his thigh. His perfect blonde locks are set askew now, giving him an untamed look. You feel as wild as he appears. Heart thundering in your chest, you make a play without a second thought, and you spit in his face, spattering the corner of his mouth and his cheek.
For a split second, Homelander looks sincerely shocked, his eyes wide. Slowly, he begins to laugh. The sound of it rolls chills all the way down your spine. You’ve never heard him sound this menacing. His tongue darts out to lick away the mess of it from the corner of his mouth. Pulling one of your hands down from above your head, he uses your palm to wipe it clean, turning his face to nuzzle into your hand, despite how you try to close it from him. When he looks at you, his pupils have reduced the blue of his eyes to a thin ring, making his eyes look almost completely black. His sharp grin has turned him wholly into a predator.
“I’m going to enjoy this,” he says, voice pitched low.
Faster than you can track, he dips down and hauls you up over his shoulder with ease, that abysmal eagle pauldron digging into your side as he carries you back into the clearing. You ball up your fists and pound on his back with every ounce of strength you have in you, twisting against his grip on your legs, but nothing fazes him. “Scream all you want, sweetheart,” he laughs, giving your ass an indulgent smack. “No one to hear it but me.”
Homelander hurls you forward, and though you hit the ground much more gently than you braced for, the motion is no less disorienting. Sprawled on your back, you move to roll over, but a sudden weight on your thigh stops you. You look down and see his muddy red boot pressed firmly there, pinning you. Above, you hear the familiar sound of him unzipping his pants. Once his cock is free, Homelander grips it with a heated sigh, staring down at you through heavily lidded eyes. His lips are parted, and you can see the sharp edges of his canines glinting in the light of the moon.
“Look at you, such a fucking mess,” he says, pumping his cock in slow, even slides of his hand. He’s already fully hard, the engorged head of his cock leaking drops of precome with every stroke. You can feel how bad he wants you in the way he watches you, the way his breath hitches. He looks like a wild animal drooling over a fresh cut of meat.
You writhe beneath him, but the weight of his boot alone is more than enough to keep you in place. “Please,” you whine, fighting to keep the desire out of your voice. “Please don’t, please, let me go, I won’t tell anyone–”
“Ssshhhhh, shhh,” Homelander hushes, lips quirked in a lopsided smile. “I know you won’t.” Reaching out, Homelander bends at the waist and lifts his boot off of you just before he catches a handful of your hair, maneuvering you up onto your knees. The way he handles you is exceedingly gentle. He has no need for rough or forceful movements when his strength can bend steel. You have no choice but to move with him. “I’m gonna give you one chance to redeem yourself, alright?”
Holding you steady, Homelander guides you to his cock, arching your head back with his grip in your hair. “Open up, pretty girl,” he croons, the only warning he gives before shoving his cock between your lips, smearing precome along your tongue, all the way to the back of your throat. The salt-sex taste of him is immediately intoxicating, and though you gag at the sudden intrusion, you suck him down without meaning to, reflexively swallowing.
“Ffffuck, ah, hah, that’s it. Mmm, such a natural little cockslut. Taste good, sweetheart?” He asks, positively destroying you. He’s never called you anything like that before, but the ease with which he says it now makes it sound like the hundredth time. You want to hear it again. You make a sound that’s close to a moan, pushing your hands against his thighs, digging your nails into the padding of his suit. Letting go of his cock, he cups the side of your face, and picks up a steady rhythm with his hips, fucking your mouth shallowly.
With his thumb, Homelander caresses your lips, following the line of them where they stretch wide around his dick. He’s entranced by you, watching with endless intensity. Your jaw is slack, drool coating his cock as he fucks your mouth. “Ohhh, fuck. Fuck, look at you. Wanted it all along, didn’t you? I can smell your pussy, baby. You’re so fucking wet for me.”
He fucks deeper, and you stifle the gag this time. Your eyes well with tears that collect on your lashes, weighing them down against your cheeks. The weight of his cock on your tongue feels so good, you lose yourself briefly, forgetting that you’re supposed to be putting up a fight. This time, you let yourself gag when he pushes in deep, and you try to pull off of him, fighting back against the hand he’d flattened at the back of your skull.
“No, no, sshh, not yet. Almost there,” he says, tightening his grip in your hair, his voice fraying as he begins to come apart. He starts thrusting faster, adjusting his hands to hold either side of your head, using you so thoroughly that you feel like a fucking toy in his hands. Your breaths become shallower, short little gasps between the frenzied snaps of his hips. “Aaalmost there. That’s it, take it, taking it so fuckin’ good. Knew you could, baby.”
Between the praise and lack of air, you’re starting to feel lightheaded. You’re not fighting against him anymore, but instead gripping his thighs for dear life, eyes rolling back into your skull. You feel like you’re floating in and out of your physical body, barely tethered to reality.
Homelander comes with a choked-off noise, shoving you all the way down onto his cock. You don’t even taste the come, you just feel the heavy pulses of his cock against your tongue, the heat of it sliding down your throat, warming you from the inside out. Just when you’re starting to feel like you might pass out, Homelander pulls out of your mouth, holding you as you cough wetly. You gulp down breath after breath, gradually coming down from your delirium. Homelander strokes your hair through it, breathing heavily through his own aftershocks.
“Now there’s a redemption arc,” he says through a breathy little chuckle. He lets go of your hair so that he can tuck himself loosely back into his pants. Before you can get any ideas, Homelander knocks you backwards, visibly pleased by the easy way you sprawl out on your back, still dazed. Crouching down, he gets a good grip on the hips of your pants, and with a swift outward pull on either side, rips them clean apart, along with your underwear, leaving just the scraps of them hanging off your thighs, fully exposing your pelvis.
Inhaling deeply, Homelander’s smile is downright predatory. “My turn,” he says, hooking your legs up over his shoulders, leaving just your upper back touching the ground below. He takes hold of your hips, and lifts you up to his mouth. Closing his eyes, he moans like a man mad with hunger as he drags his tongue through the slick mess of your cunt, closing his lips around your clit.
You arch your back with a cry, pushing into the wet heat of his mouth. He’s ruthless in the way he feasts on you, plunging his tongue into you and lapping up every drop he can coax out. When he’s gotten all he can, he goes back up to your clit and sucks, swirling his tongue over it, reducing you to a whimpering mess. He laps at your clit until there’s more sweet slick for him to drink up from your pussy, fucking you with his tongue, demanding more.
Homelander gets his wish when you come, an explosion of pleasure that radiates through your entire body. Your thighs lock up on either side of his head, squeezing him tight, but all he cares about is the rush of your release that spills down his chin, wetting him so thoroughly the excess drips onto the ground below. He swallows every drop that he can.
He groans with it, licking eagerly between the quivering lips of your cunt. Your orgasms have always driven him insane, the flood of endorphins making you taste fucking exquisite. Suddenly the ground falls out beneath you as Homelander stands up, leaving you hanging in his grasp as he devours you, your moans of pleasure rapidly dissolving into broken sobs, overwhelmed with sensation.
“S-stop,” you gasp, grabbing hold of his wrists. “Too much, please, it’s too much.”
Homelander’s only response is a rough little shake of his head, nuzzling into your pussy, lapping up the aftermath of your orgasm and rapidly hurdling you hot and heavy towards another one, your hips convulsing against him entirely of their own accord.
“Please, oh god, please stop!” You cry, voice raw. You hang helplessly in his grip, squirming with nowhere to go. He’s got you dangling precariously on the razor's edge between pleasure and pain, the sensations so intense that they almost burn. “S-stop! It’s too much! Please!”
You have a safe word, you and he both know you could save yourself if you wanted to, but the reality is that you don’t. It feels good to beg for what you know he will not give you. You’re starting to feel dizzy, hanging upside down, gasping for breath as he continues to gorge himself on you. He drags his tongue up and down, drawing deft figure eights before sucking your clit, pressing his tongue firmly to it.
You come again, and this time the experience is so overwhelming, you scream.
Falling limp, all you can muster are weak, oversensitized noises. Your body spasms involuntarily while Homelander licks you through the aftermath of your orgasm, milking every last drop of it. He finishes with a refreshed, wet exhale, audibly licking his lips of the mess while you dangle in his grasp. Gingerly, he lowers you back down onto the grassy forest floor, slipping out from between your legs to loom over you. Your brain is so addled, it takes you ages to realize that he’s kissing you, licking your own flavor into your mouth. You whimper when you feel his ungloved fingers brush your overstimulated cunt, the contact making you jolt. He clicks his tongue softly.
“Look what you did,” he murmurs between kisses, plunging his fingers into you, despite your weak protest. You’re so wet, the slide of them is a frictionless ache. You whine into the press of his lips. “You went and got me hard again,” he sighs, as if you’ve inconvenienced him. “Now I have to fuck your pretty pussy.”
Homelander’s fingers pump in and out of you, the sound of it obscene and wet. Your breath hitches, and you try to protest, but his gloved hand falls over your lips, silencing you.
“Shhh, shh. Save it, sweetheart. Save it for my cock.” His fingers sink in deep, and your lashes flutter, eyes nearly rolling back into your skull. Already, you’re aching to feel him deeper. All you can do is whimper into the warm leather of his glove, squirming under the weight of his hold while his fingers work you open. While it’s a reprieve for your thoroughly used clit, the expert way he crooks his fingers inside you already has you fighting the climb of another orgasm. So much so that when he slips his fingers out, you whine, the sound of it bordering on a sob.
Nothing happens for the next couple of seconds. Uncertain, you open your eyes, and find Homelander staring down at you. There is a slight tenseness to his expression, an expectation you can see in his gaze as you meet it. His hand is still over your mouth, but his other hand has settled on your thigh, thumb stroking your bare skin in minute movements.
You can see the question written in his eyes clear as day; You okay?
The way he looks at you settles something warm deep in your core, chasing the night chill and leaving only the heat between your bodies. You break character for just a second, and give him a slight nod. In an instant, Homelander flips like a switch back into a stranger, the change subtle and yet glaringly obvious to you. You gasp when he pulls his hand from your mouth to flip you over, the smell of fresh grass pungent as he pushes your head down, lifting your ass up into the air.
“That’s better,” he purrs, effortlessly slipping back into character. The cold, dangerous edge to his tone makes your stomach clench in a giddy blend of anxiety and excitement. With one hand braced on the back of your head, Homelander grips his cock in the other, and guides it to the soaked, velvety lips of your pussy. He drags the head of his cock up and down, smearing it through the wet mix of his saliva and your own slick. You jerk involuntarily when he rubs it against your sensitive clit, whimpering.
You feel overworked, but Homelander has made it clear he’s only just getting started. Slowly but surely, he opens you up on the thick head of his cock, moaning a low cuss under his breath. His powers protect him from pain, but not pleasure, and you’re not the only one affected by the aftermath of your release. Regardless, he moves his bare hand to your hip, and holds you steady as he sinks the rest of the way into you in one slow, agonizingly good slide, finally reaching that aching itch deep inside you.
“Nnnngh, please,” you moan, screwing your eyes tightly shut.
“Please what?” Homelander prompts, giving a deep little thrust that startles another pitchy sound out of you. “Go on, beg for it. I want to hear you beg for my cock like a good little slut,” he says, the low snarl of his voice–his words–paired with the heat and weight of him inside you making you delirious. He moves his hand from your hip to your clit, the wet slide of his fingers making you cry out, writhing against him. He rocks you back on his cock, fucking right into your cervix. “No sense denying it now. So goddamn wet for me. You love this, don’t you? Getting fucked like a cheap whore. Beg. Beg me to fuck you stupid.”
Whatever few strands you had left tethering you snap. The degradation, the truth in his words, the transcendent agony of pleasure taken too far all tip you over the edge of sanity and reason. Shame and arousal burn you in equal measure. “Please fuck me stupid,” you obediently beg, tears gathering in your eyes not from pain, but sheer overwhelm. You barely get the words out. Homelander starts to fuck you in earnest, groaning at your plea, at the complete crumble of your resolve. “Use me.”
The noise Homelander makes at that is animalistic, caught somewhere between a groan and a growl. He shifts his hand from your head to your shoulder and grips tight, gloved fingers biting into the meat of you as he yanks you back onto his cock, picking up a relentless rhythm that punches the air right out of your lungs with every snap of his hips. All the while, his fingers grind against your clit with every thrust, surging you up towards the release previously abandoned.
“Fuck,” Homelander rasps, practically trembling with restraint. Despite the brutal way he’s fucking you, you know it’s nothing compared to what he could do. You can feel pressure building rapidly between your thighs, each thrust like the strike of a match inside you, igniting more and more heat. You can’t move, pinned between his hand on your shoulder and the crack of his hips against your ass. All you can do is endure him as your orgasm builds, whatever scarce breaths you can manage to inhale leave you as sharp little whimpers. “Don’t fight it. Feels good, I know it does. You’re taking me so good. Fucking made for me. C’mon, do it. Let me feel you come on my cock.”
Your orgasm hits like an earthquake, a sudden eruption that renders you silent, your lips falling open on a noiseless scream. Your body locks up like a vice as wave after wave of mind blowing pleasure rolls through you. You hear Homelander give a choked off noise as he fucks you through it, your cunt seizing around him so tightly it catches him off guard. He doesn’t stop, instead moving faster, reducing you to a keening mess, limp in the grass. He uses you until on a final thrust, you feel him still, followed by a rush of heat so intense it nearly feels a burn inside you. Your whole body shudders, and you exhale a broken little noise, dizzy from the magnitude of it all.
Everything around you feels bleary, your vision fading in and out. For a moment, you feel as though you might float away from your body entirely, your consciousness barely holding on, but the feeling of Homelander pressed against your back, sinking down against you, grounds you.
You whisper the safeword you’ve been diligently holding onto, and just like that, the game is over.
Homelander pushes a hand through your hair, kissing a trail from your neck to your ear, gently adjusting your head on the ground. He kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth, bent over you, the wet weight of his cock still buried deep and warm inside you. He’s panting softly in your ear between kisses, the breaths catching every so often, still reeling from his own release.
Tenderly, he lifts off of you, and withdraws from inside you, hissing a soft breath as he does. The mess he left inside you trails hot, wet streaks down your thighs. You wince at the loss of him, nearly collapse without his hands on you, but he holds you steady with a hand on your hip while he adjusts himself.
You’re practically dead weight as he rolls you over, hovering over you with a hand in the grass, next to your head. You smile up at him, lazy and still dazed. He returns it, the corners of his eyes crinkling generously as he strokes your cheek with his bare knuckles, analyzing your expression.
“Was I good?” He asks, the tone of his voice leagues and miles away from what it had been. He sounds tentative now, curious, a little hopeful.
“Good?” You echo, borderline offended he would use such a meager word to explain the most intense sexual experience of your life. “That was… you were… amazing,” you tell him breathlessly, mustering the strength to push a hand into his mussed hair, your lids feeling heavy as you blink. “I can’t feel my legs, and I think you bruised my cervix,” you admit, to which he looks sheepish, but you continue, “And I’ve never felt more incredible in my life.”
Homelander visibly preens at that, his eyes narrowing, lips curving into a small smile. He leans in to nuzzle at your neck, inhaling deeply. You offer a few more strokes through his hair, but the muscles in your arm protest enough that you drape it over his neck instead, sighing. He takes that as his cue to scoop you up into his arms, your limbs dangling like cooked noodles. He floats to his feet, settling back down on the ground with you nestled snug against his chest. “C’mon,” he says quietly, kissing your forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
~~~~~~
Back at the cabin, Homelander is quick to start a hot bath running. The only garment of yours to survive was your bra, but even then, you and it are thoroughly grass strained. Homelander helps you sink into the oversized jacuzzi bath, chuckling at the exaggerated moan you give as the heat washes over you. It feels like heaven on your aching legs.
The water sloshes to and fro as Homelander joins you, sliding up to you right away. Baths have always been both of your preferred methods of aftercare, where you can recover from his strength and he can luxuriate in this intimate form of pampering. Automatically, Homelander pulls you in to straddle his lap, the water making you both feel weightless. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, and you go about wetting his hair, massaging his scalp. He moans when you begin to work in the shampoo next, dragging your nails all the way down to the back of his neck.
He’s much leaner without the suit. You sweep your hands down his shoulders, following the trail of wiry muscle to his back. His body relaxes gradually beneath your touch, breathy little sighs escaping him. He makes you feel like you’re playing an instrument, and you know precisely where to touch to draw out the right note.
Neither of you speak much during the bath. Your limbs are heavy, muscles tired, and the narrow space between your bodies feels too quiet and intimate for words.
You take your time conditioning his hair, and he wrings soft moans from you when he massages wash into your shoulders, mindful of how they ache. He’s deft with his hands, impeccably aware of his strength. It thrills you a little every time you remember how different he was in the woods, how wild and brutal he had felt.
Once you’re both clean and satisfied, the bed calls your name as hypnotically as any siren. You’re the first to slip under the covers, immediately relieved to be off of your feet, your legs still shaky.
Homelander follows shortly after. He’s always been clingy, but tonight especially, he’s practically glued to you. When he slides into bed, he doesn’t cuddle in next to you, but instead lays himself over you, nestling between your legs so that he can rest his head on your chest. You smile down at him. “How do you feel?”
“Good,” he rumbles, moving his hand to rest near his face, just over the beat of your heart.
Silence hangs heavily in the air. Sensing there’s more to it, you press, “Do you want to talk about tonight?”
Homelander is quiet for a moment longer. “You were scared.”
“Being chased was scary, yes,” you admit, combing your fingers through his hair. “That was the intention, though.”
“Were you scared of me?”
You pause. There’s something vulnerable in his voice—anxiety, perhaps—that he’s halfheartedly trying to mask, but you see through it. You give yourself time, wanting to answer the question with the thought it deserves, but Homelander doesn’t take the silence well. He lifts his head to scrutinize your expression, brows pinched. “You were scared of me.”
“You scared me, but I wasn’t afraid of you,” you correct him, settling your hand over top of his. “I liked it. In the same way I like movies that make me scream, or roller coasters. You scared me, and I loved it,” you say, bringing up both hands to cup his face, emphasizing your words by pulling him into a kiss. He moves easily, pushing into the kiss, needy for the assurance you offer.
Stroking his cheeks with your thumbs, you ask him, “Did you like it?”
Homelander licks his lips, sliding his arm under you as he settles back in against your chest. “Yeah. It was… fun. Raw. I didn’t know you could act like that. Might have to get you a role in Vought’s next production,” he says, giving your collarbone a playful little nuzzle.
“No thanks, I’d rather be waterboarded,” you reply with a laugh, earning a low chuckle from him. You stroke him from the crown of his head all the way down to the base of his neck, and then back up. “I’m glad you had fun. I know that I was asking a lot of you with it.”
He’s quiet for a moment, head resting heavy on your chest. He rubs his cheek against your skin. “I really liked it. But if it goes too far, and you see something in me that you don’t like, and I see you scared of me, even when we’re not playing, it…” the sentence trails off. You feel his grip around you tighten reflexively, and you can only imagine what awful scenario he’s playing in his mind.
“John,” you call gently, though your tone is firm, catching his attention immediately. He tips his head back to look up at you. “I promise you, there is nothing you would do to me that could change the way I feel about you. I love you. I worship you, John. That’s what love means to me. Reverence. You didn’t want to hurt me tonight, did you?”
“No,” he answers quickly, enraptured by you, by your words. “But I did.”
“Only as much as I asked you to,” you soothe, stroking along the side of his face. “You would have stopped if I said the word, right?”
Homelander nods, closing his eyes as he leans into your touch, pressing a kiss to your palm.
“You checked in on me, too. If anything, all tonight did was show me how much I don’t need to be afraid of you.”
Looking at you, there is a magnitude of emotion in Homelander’s eyes that is difficult to put into words. You realize immediately just how badly he needed to hear every word you’ve said. He has always thrived on your words, on your loving deeds, but tonight they scrape him particularly raw. There are times when you think the depths of his need for you scares even him.
Homelander kisses a path from your collarbone to the space between your breasts, slow, deeply affectionate. Where you most easily show your worship in words, he shows his in touch. He strokes a hand down your side, to your outer thigh, squeezing it against him, like he simply cannot be close enough.
“Come here,” you murmur, nudging him with your leg. “Let me warm you.”
Homelander glances up at that, his lips twitching in a small, pleased smile. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you confirm, encouraging him with another little nudge. Of all the tricks you’ve introduced him to, this has been his favorite by far.
Licking his lips eagerly, Homelander shifts, lifting himself to grab the lube from the bedside table, dispensing enough to slick his cock up. He uses what remains on his fingers in you, sliding his slick fingers into you with ease, earning a sharp little inhale from you before you relax into it.
Once you’re properly wetted, he carefully slides his cock into you, less than half hard, but that isn’t the intent. Though you’re still tender, once he settles against you, the fervid weight of him inside feels divine. Having him inside always feels as though you are kindling a live flame within you.
“Mm, that’s it. Feel good?” You ask, kissing his forehead.
Homelander nods, slotted against you as perfectly as a matching jigsaw piece. He turns his head to kiss your breast, transitioning quickly from that to closing his mouth over your nipple, sucking gently. You flex your grip in his hair, sighing in pleasure. “I still need to rest, you know. We can’t all have super stamina,” you remind him with an amused little smile.
“So rest,” he says dismissively, gaze flickering up to meet yours. He kisses your breast reverently before placing his head back down, staring up at you with such utter contentment, you feel the warmth of it to your core. “I can be patient.”
In other words, he’ll wait as long as he can before the temptation grows too great. The thought of waking to him taking advantage of you like that broils a little fire of your own in your gut, and you laugh softly, nodding. “Okay. Wake me in a few hours. Be creative,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him.
Homelander’s lips curl deviously. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Eventually, your exhaustion wins over the giddiness of what’s to come. Homelander is a comforting weight against you, the heat of him chasing any and all chill from you, and you drift into one of the deepest sleeps you’ve ever known.
#homelander x reader#homelander x you#homelander fanfiction#smut#oh my god it's DONE#not to toot my own horn but i am supremely proud of this one haha#my writing#hide and seek
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Hikaru Solo Live on July 23
【LIVE Announcement】
For the first time in a long while, Hikaru will be holding a solo live! 🎵
Date: 2023/0723
Details about the upcoming live will be revealed on May 20 during a special live stream on the app Music Champ☺️
■App「Music Champ」Download
・App Store
https://apps.apple.com/us/app/musicchamp/id1511895708
・Google Play
https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.music.champ
Tweet 1, 2 by Hikaru | Instagram post by Hikaru
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Do you have any idea what it's like to know the world has given up on you? Gem does. After she was killed in a battle and fell into the water, the only way she could survive was by the ambient magic of the sea taking her under its wing, a magic ruled by no master and constricted by no borders. She washed up ready to continue her quest against evil, but the light magic she used to wield now burns her. She knew no other way of carrying out her prophecy. But...she was going to find one! She was still working on it! A couple years is nothing in the span of what it takes to properly learn a new magic, she was still going to try.... But not anymore. Skizz is here. Her time is up. The world has given up on her.
She wishes she could pretend it's because she's undead, that the world no longer thinks she exists and therefore thought it had to replace her. There are too many other nonhumans about for that to be the case, though. No. It simply thought she failed, ignored the empty outline in its plan left by her (not empty) (still full) (why won't it give me more time, why won't it see me...?) and decided to find someone to fill it.
She's not hunting Skizz to get her role back, or out of spite. She's hunting him to teach him a lesson. She wants him to see how once he fails too, the world will throw him away, ignore everything it changed by summoning him here and simply find another hero instead. In Gem's mind, the magic and will of the land is now treacherous, and the ancient, ever-moving sea is the only thing left that's ever been loyal. Soon, she will commit Skizz to its arms and let it wash away his false hopes for him.
Soon, she will finally have a friend to join her in failure.
She may not be right - maybe Skizz will show her a new way, a way that they can fulfill the prophecy with the power of two instead of one, or even just a way of thinking that shows the land hasn't quite forgotten her. Or, maybe she will show him her side, and he'll find his solace beneath the ways. Whatever happens in the end, she certainly is determined.
.
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DC x DP idea thing #1
Uncle Scarecrow Au
Essentially, in this AU thing, Maddie, and Jonathan Crane are cousins (their moms were sisters) that often see eachother when Maddie's family visits Georgia before contact was cut due to Grandma Marion and Great-Grandma Keeny
Jonathan and Maddie managed to reconnect for a year or two through letters when Maddie started college and Jonny boy is in the middle of getting his doctorate but lost contact after Maddie got busier with studies and Jonathan went to Gotham. They're on good terms with each other and once in a while in recent years, they'd give each other updates (and gifts. Danny and Jazz grew up hearing a bit from/about Jonathan when they were younger but stopped hearing about him around the time when he became the Scarecrow. So, let's just say when Danny's... 6? Ngl, DC timeline is messy and confusing at times)
Maddie and Jack only recently learned that Danny's a halfa, the ghost king at that, and accepts it. They start helping him wrangle up some of the rogue ghosts and throw them back to the GZ when not even a week later, the GIW started swarming Amity Park immediately.
This causes the Fenton Family to escape (though not unscathed) and end up going to Gotham, not just cause Jazz is studying there, or the fact that there's enough ambient ectoplasm energy there to cover up Danny's signature, but because Jack's apparently from there, has connections too, while Maddie knows that Jonathan could help. She's his favorite cousin after all and adores Danny and Jazz from the bits and pieces she sent him about them.
"Madeline," The man in the burlap mask nodded to her.
"Jonathan," she nodded back.
Danny can't help but feel tense and wary as he stares down at the tall figure in front of him. This was Uncle Jonathan? Don't tell him he's as big of a fruitloop as Vlad.
Maddie stares at him before raising an eyebrow, "I see you still aren't taking care of yourself as you should, huh, Jonny?"
He scoffs, southern accent becoming a bit more prominent as he spoke, "like you're anyone to talk about habits, Maddie. Intellect may run in our blood but having normal, sane habits aren't. Don't you remember Great-Grandma Mary?"
The two burst out into some chuckles.
"Glad you're still alive and well, then, cousin," Maddie says, taking the hood of her jumpsuit off along with her goggles.
"Likewise," Jonathan replies, taking his ratty hat and burlap mask off revealing a sharp, gaunt face with a long, hook nose, pale blue eyes, and rusty auburn-colored, bordering brown, hair, "Now, what's this about a government branch coming for little Danny, and how... Sensitive are you to gore and other graphic imagery of sorts?"
"I mean, I already died and have to fight ghosts-..." Danny piped up immediately, only to shut his mouth up just as quickly.
"... Remind me to set up a proper therapy session for you later, child."
#dc x dp#dp x dc#dc x dp prompt#Uncle Scarecrow AU#danny phantom#danny fenton#maddie fenton#Jack Fenton#Jack is from Gotham#Maddie is Jonathan's cousin#The GIW sucks#I apologize if Maddie and Danny are OOC here#I'm more knowledgeable with Batman Rogues stuff tbh#I'm biased and like Jonathan just as much as I like Eddie boy#Danny's gonna learn more about chemistry and psychology now#Does Fear Gas affect ghosts? I like to think maybe#GIW are gonna be suffering a lot in the future#Jonathan's real protective for the people he cares for#Not sure if the Fentons would join Jonathan's villainy or not#maybe they do thinking batfam and the JL are aware of the GIW and all so they retaliate#idka I have too many drafts already for this au#I'm having a too much fun with his idea thh#Then again#I have a few other au idea thingies involving the rogues in this crossover#Danny's gonna get therapy#That's for sure#Danny's also gonna meet a lot of crows#Oh and he might meet the other rogues#He's definetly gonna meet Edward though cause I personally ship him with Jonathan
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finished a render and realized there's a tiny mistake. don't re-render the whole thing: a tutorial
realized a lot of people don't know that you can do this so here's a quick post on it!
so let's say i didn't notice the hair was clipping with the ear like this:
i render out the whole thing and it takes like 30 minutes. only after do i notice. save the messed up version! then do this:
fix whatever's clipping or messed up or you just want to change. so now let's only render what we fixed. use control + b to draw a square around the part you changed.
this will only render what's in that box. it only took a minute in cycles! (it's usually shorter than this, honestly. i was just doing some weird things in this render. also you couldn't even see his ear in the lighting lol)
save this piece, and then in photoshop, you can lay the fixed part over the clipping version, and there!!!
if for whatever reason you need to clear the mask, you can just hit control+alt+b.
(minor problem if you use ambient occlusion or glare compositing nodes, there will be a slight border on the edges, but you can just erase it! make sure to give yourself enough room on the edges!)
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