#misc: with fans
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lsdunesarchive · 1 year ago
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lsdunes: can the fans get a chip??? #canigetachip
(L.S. Dunes Twitter | July 9, 2023)
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poobirdy · 7 months ago
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xin mo did not become the demonic op sword of all three realms for this!!! for @kawouwu who asked for binggeyuan sillies! thank you for your donation to svsss' gotcha 4 gaza!
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acid-ixx · 5 months ago
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prequel: again &. again. (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)
directory: prequel, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three
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read until the end for an author's note.
what hurts more when it comes to neglectful batfam that adopted you after jason's death (that eventually turns a 360 after you have left) is probably the fact that they always had time for you, it's just that they never chose to spend it on you; an extra burden to their family rather than an addition. if they had time to spend, they spend it on anything or anyone else but you. it's not that you don't share interests with them, it's just...! they have way more priorities that push you further back into their list of 'to do's'; though you know you'll always be the last of that list.
bruce has to juggle so many tasks as the billionaire playboy "brucie wayne", a father of an ever growing family, and gotham's dark knight vigilante but somehow, you're aware he could easily fit in one or two more children into his already booked schedule— he just never seems to consider you worthy enough apparently. or maybe it was because you were too silent, you set boundaries compared to your other family who are outspoken about what they want, what they need— but there's one thing for sure that sets you off from your siblings; you're not a vigilante.
you were merely a child of a one night stand; a child raised too well. you were behaved, you never complained, and you were just, you. and being normal (at least in their level of extraordinary talents were you a mere droplet) amongst a family of talented individuals makes you easily a ghost. was bruce to blame with his neglect? definitely. if he was able to balance his life so easily, then maybe as the world's best detective would he notice you packing your things day by day without update. maybe that was why you never once hesitated the moment you stepped outside the manor, permanently.
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dick's excuse would always be "sorry, baby bird! but i promised to spar with damian today. ah, but you can watch from the sidelines!" or he would be too busy saving bludhaven to even acknowledge your presence. sure, he smiles at you with those shiny teeth of his, but despite him looking at you, he never notices you for more than a second, right after he would skidadle his way to another sibling's room, bothering them to spend more time with him, never you though. it occurs to you that he has only entered your bedroom once, and that occurrence was years ago. even then, he didn't last a minute inside there before running away once more.
family matters more than anything to dick. hell, he was enraged at the announcement of jason's death and even beat joker to a bloody pulp when he realized tim fell into his hands. he's ready to defend damian, barbara, steph, cass, and duke with his life. it's his duty and obligation as the family's eldest brother, of course. but were you considered family to him? were you considered a sibling in his eyes, or were you just the resident roommate of the mansion? you question that endlessly because everyone, family and friends, seem to be smitted with dick, but you eventually gave up trying to vye for his attention. it's fine, really, if you were just another civilian to him, because he was just another person to you too. just like in a circus, you would always be the intermission rather than the main event. and with that, you take your leave.
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jason was the most forgivable to you, second to tim. he was never there, and he would've probably put effort into spending time with you if not for the fact he despises bruce and the mansion and wouldn't and couldn't last a second stepping into it. he never met you when he was robin, it was only right after his death did he discover were you taken in and that added fact alongside tim being his replacement turned him bitter with resentment. though his hatred for you receded over time, he wouldn't really be caught taking a minute with you because he always sneaks inside the mansion and crime in gotham never seems to lessen. because of that, and your unwillingness to become a vigilante to kick ass with him and the others, he wouldn't be able to fully take an hour with you.
casual talks are unavoidable, though, when at the dead of the night he would be caught sneaking in to eat some leftovers and you were conveniently awake at the same time as him. he'll recommend you some classic literature he read or 'cafes/restaurants that criminals visit the least' lists, but before it would turn into a full conversation, jason would already be wearing his signature mask again, and with a pat on your head and a "talk to you soon, can't guarantee it'll be tomorrow again though, only here for alfred's meals of course," and he'll be gone. you shouldn't have let your hopes high, you wished you didn't because, duh! he wasn't there to talk to you, specifically. you were just there to bide his time! wiping tears away from your eyes, and with a heavy heart, you book an apartment away from the wayne manor with your own atm card; hope irreversibly dead and unable to revive a sliver of faith, even if it was dipped in the lazarus pit would it never come back as the same.
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tim drake is always tired. just like bruce, his days are filled with investigation, crime fighting, and worst of all; high school. that's of course that least of his worries the moment he drops out. tim was never the guy to talk much. he only does when he needs to make an impression for others, or when he needs to manipulate people for potential information. his life revolved around fighting, from when he solved the case of bruce wayne and dick grayson being batman and robin respectively, up to his current identity as red robin and occasionally robin. he'll often be found in the batcave working with babs on a case or working alone in his room.
it's no mistake that you were the most distant to him, never once knowing about his interests or even hobbies and vice versa. it was a given that at the very moment you pass a glance at him, you knew it was a 'mind your business' type of relationship with him. if you were a mere ghost to dick, then you were just a spec of dust to tim. it was unfair to assume he would never care for you, he does! only in a way where you were another person to save if you ever were endangered, but would that be enough to stalk you to the point he gains every insight about you? not really. you weren't one of his friends, like kon who he would spend weekly video game challenges with; and you probably don't exist as his sibling in his own little world filled with coffee and computers. yeah, your feelings about leaving him weren't as bitter as the caffeine he drowns in his system, but you were still hurt either way.
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damian wayne, from his birth, was taught and raised to prioritize his mission as an al ghul, to be the one continuing the legacy and to shed blood on anyone who opposes. when he was given over to bruce, it took a hell lot of effort to turn a new page and become the next robin. it was, with no doubt, that despite his 'redemption', he would be a tad bit crueler to you than the others. unlike tim, who he persistently bothers, you were untalented, worthless, and a stain on the reputation of the wayne's. even jason, his father's greatest mistake, had more value than you.
maybe it was fine-tuned jealousy, maybe he was mirroring his father and dick's actions towards you with his own sick twist of violence. either way, you would rather avoid the boy, lest you face the wrath of his sword. it wouldn't be wrong if you came to hate him, actually you do, but despite your endless game of cat and mouse with you as the unwilling victim of the chase, your poor heart couldn't fathom the thought of not excusing his actions as that of a child's. you tell yourself everyday, 'just ignore it, he was raised like as to be a menace after all' but you can't deny the bitterness and the clenching of your teeth whenever you stumble upon a room and see your father and your younger brother watching a movie together. the resentment eventually builds up until you blow up and just, give up. within your final moments in the manor, you figured to leave some belongings that you collected overtime that were supposedly memorabilias that you wish to show off to your family. like his pieces of art, you could only explain your life in the family as black and white and as bleak as the streaks of charcoal that rubs against the pages.
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when dick was jogging through the desolate halls of the manor, he noticed the place seemed to be more... empty of some sort. and he knows pushing that feeling into the back of his head would only result in more questions than answers. so he decides to enter the spare rooms one by one until he comes across your room (he doesn't know it was yours, though), turning the knob without knocking.
that was when his eyes seem to dilate. his nose catched a faint whiff of bleach (was the room deep-cleaned?), vision seemingly closing in on the few furniture left alongside a diary and other boxes left neatly on your bed, with other smaller trinkets left untouched on your bedside table. he didn't remember you mentioning anything about leaving, hell, he doesn't want to admit his lack of memories about you but—
wait...
didn't he promise to take you out for dinner months ago...?
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reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.
a/n: this is one of my favorite pieces of writing i have ever done and i like it a lot so i hope whoever reads this likes it too. if you all want to read more of this, then please leave a comment or reblog because i heavily appreciate it and it motivates me further to write this type of content! the reason i have come to a long hiatus is because, as stated, the lack of interaction with content. like i said, i will still write for genshin but i am open to expanding my fandom list. (p.s. i hope you like the way i had to connect their interests or a part of their past to the reader.)
heavily inspired by @klemen-tine's work: Glass Bones and Paper Skin, @gotham-daydreams' work: Not [], and @onmyyan's work: Ain't No Sunshine.
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hoofpeet · 1 month ago
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I'm not a living thing anymore
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kumakumaart · 1 year ago
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Little Guy Party Time!
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fell-e · 2 months ago
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Im not good at words-ing but
Koharu Sakurada and Aki Tamaki
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Sakurada means "Cherry Blossom field"
Aki roughly translates to "Autumn"
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Cherry Blossoms are not only associated with love, but their short lived blooms also signify the fleeting nature of life.
Autumn is the time of the year where trees shed their leaves, and is associated with grief in some cultures. But at the same time, it signifies new beginnings.
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Koharu died young. Too young. Unlike Aki who had loved her since she was only nine years old, Koharu never had a chance to experience falling in love. And i think Aki feels guilty for that. For not confessing sooner, for not confessing later, for confessing at that place, at that time. Maybe then, she would still be alive, she would still have had a chance at experiencing love. And maybe she feels guilty for surviving the accident, for not being the one who died instead, for not being able to save her.
But she has to move on.
And moving on doesn't mean she didn't love Koharu any less, it didn't mean she didn't love her anymore. In fact, its the opposite.
Even years after her death, Aki still loved her.
She loved her for six years, and continued loving her for five more.
Aki loved her, and though that love and grief may not fade away anytime soon, she has to move on. For herself, and for Koharu.
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Those cherry blossoms will bloom again one day, and though those flowers aren't the same as the ones from before, they are just as wonderful.
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kitokat-art · 3 months ago
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Hi chat look who I made
I shook him in a jar.
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cyberllfe · 16 days ago
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I got 1300 words! (Which you can absolutely shorten if you don’t feel like writing that much, absolutely understand as a writer.) and I would adore a “Shag me” prompt with Connor 🥴 if you feel up for it. My thoughts on this request (and you can adjust and add to because you���re a great story writer and I trust you) would be a female reader who works as a receptionist at the station (human preferably) and has known Connor since he first came to the department. Soon after his deviancy, they navigate a sort of awkward almost-friends-nearly-more type of relationship and stumble unto a slow romance, until Connor discovers the human emotion horny. It would be amazing if it could be at an awkward time too, like while watching a movie together or at work. I’ve been reading your pieces on AO3 and I truly think you are a talented writer, sending you all my love and inspiration💞💞💞💞
thanks for waiting, anon. connor will see you now. (ao3 link) 1300 words, rated E.
want a turn? prompt me.
It’s been raining all day—classic Detroit November—but all anyone can talk about is the guy who died, his escaped android, and the android investigator in the precinct. You’ve caught a glimpse of him more than once since yesterday, and this time is no different: he comes trotting in after Lieutenant Anderson, covered in glistening droplets of rain and speaking very insistently about something you can’t hear.
“That’s him.”
Your eyes would have slid right past him if not for the intensity in his face. He’s single-minded, emphatic... for all the good it does him. Anderson rolls his eyes and pushes Connor out of his path, leaving him standing there, recalculating. Only then do you notice the LED.
It’s barely two seconds before he’s started after Anderson, calling his name.
“Looks good wet, doesn’t he?”
You don’t offer anything but a soft hum. The thought follows you for the rest of the day.
*
Connor precedes Hank into the building today. He surprises you by speaking to you instead of simply scanning in, and you feel… strange. The look in his eye is so human, almost anxious. With an awkward smile, you offer a reassuring platitude. You’re earnest, but the offer seems to confuse Connor. He thanks you anyway and leaves your desk.
Between jobs, you keep an eye on him. He’s so animated. It’s marked, the difference a handful of days makes—he paces back and forth, oscillating where Hank is static, following his trail of thought as if it were physical.
Neither notices you. The rude FBI agent doesn’t notice you either; too intent on getting into the Captain’s office, he chucks his ID at you with a cursory here you go, sweetheart and goes back to his phone.
The ID is fine. You let the jackass through, and hope he gets shouted down by Fowler, who could probably do with a good outlet for his repressed frustration.
You laugh, later, as two uniforms perform a dramatised version of Anderson’s right hook on Perkins, but it’s brittle. Your eyes are on the news, and the demonstration in the street, and the news anchor’s silent mouth framing the words what do they want? without listening to the answer. Connor had raced out of the station earlier, and caught your eye as he went. You hope he's okay, wherever he is.
*
“Excuse me.”
Brown eyes meet yours, familiar intensity tempered with... caution? Nerves? It’s hard to tell them apart on a face that was built to display but not feel.
Connor wears plain clothes with all the ease of a soldier. There’s no tie to straighten, so he clenches and unclenches his hand and lets his eyes wander. They find you smiling, tentative but warm behind your professional attitude.
“How can I help, Connor?”
He’s clearly unused to the question. It’s endearing, really, to watch him like this—the self-possessed turned self conscious, attempting to hide in the shadow projected by his own image, broadcast endlessly on the new cycles at Markus’ left hand.
“Is Lieutenant Anderson here?”
“No. I don’t think he will be, either. He left about an hour ago.”
When Connor sighs, you wonder if he picked that up to blend in with humans or to help him communicate better with them. Both, probably. His fist coils up again, but he gives you a slight smile as he turns to leave.
“Connor.”
He turns, mildly surprised, to face you when you call his name. His smile is late but warm.
With one hand you reach for his, and with the other you slide a business card into his palm. The touch seems to surprise him further, and he stares at your hand even as you withdraw it.
“If you’re looking for Hank, he’s here. Diner out on the edge of town. I thought you’d come by looking for him.”
You’re glad to notice that he doesn’t look as guarded as before. Connor’s not around every day, not anymore, but you see him often enough to watch him relax into himself—to laugh when you make a self-deprecating joke, or hold the door for Officer Miller’s excitable son. Instead, Connor seems thoughtful, like you handed him something heavier than a wedge of paper with a cartoon burger on it.
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
To your surprise, he lingers. Spends enough time to ask you about your family, about the plant you keep on your desk, which you should water, by the way. You talk quietly with him about almost-dead houseplants, why you’re not allowed to play Monopoly at home over the holidays, and show him the family dog. All the while he’s leaning against the counter, one arm crooked atop it and grinning… you’re more than distracted. He leaves the foyer, eventually, but not your thoughts.
*
Laughter covers cheesy Christmas music. You’re wearing half your wine glass in the colour of your cheeks, but Connor thinks the flush becomes you.
You notice when he glances at you, and you smile in that shy, self-conscious way. He returns your smile, adjusting his posture to face you, and you turn away, pretending that you barely noticed, and noticeably trying not to check back. He basks in private amusement.
The party draws on a little long—someone pulls out a bottle of something strong and definitely against regulation, and when Connor leans down to ask you if you’d like another drink, you jump.
You’re never in danger of falling, of course. Inhuman arms encircle you and hold you steady against an equally inhuman body—and for the first time, Connor feels a response that correlates with your change in expression. The slow pull that binds you and builds to something far stronger than he’s felt before until letting you go is unthinkable.
He makes a plausible excuse for you to leave. The charge in the air grows to fevered sharpness, a harmonic buzz that doesn’t break until he has one hand in your hair, the other encircling your waist, and that insatiable need to get closer.
Connor doesn’t leave any of you untouched. When his kisses would deny you air, he leaves them in trails down your neck, then undoes a handful of buttons to continue down your chest, hands restless and hungry, so much warmer than you’d ever imagined, so much more demanding.
When he whispers I don’t want to wait, it’s as if he read your mind. A shiver runs through you when he parts your legs and leans his weight into you, pushing inside with a growl that thrills you.
You tense around him. It’s not intentional, but he grabs your chin and holds you still beneath him, feeling the burning heat of your shaky breath past his thumb. He caresses your lower lip, and when you realise you can’t nod, you whisper please, and reach for him with both hands, in case he doesn’t understand how much you want him.
Connor leans back and pulls out almost all the way. You whine loud, desperate and frustrated, until the hand on your face tightens, cutting off your mumbled demand and making way for the moan he fucks out of you.
His fingers claw your jaw and throat and it’s heaven: the sharpness against your skin, the deep pressure inside you, building with every rock of his hips, chased with a mouth that suffocates and teases you until you’re dizzy.
You feel heavy, waves of sensation breaking over your body with increasing frequency and intensity, and no outlet except your nails in Connor’s back, scratching until he presses in deep again. You tense, on purpose, and half-feel, half-hear the stuttering moan, then the frenzied motion of his body as he pushes himself to the brink and drags you with him, tangled and messy, sharing breaths, but sated at last.
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scourgiez · 10 months ago
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RINGO STARR in THAT’LL BE THE DAY (1973)
1 / 2 / 3
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lsdunesarchive · 1 year ago
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Anthony Green trades shirts with @griftermp3 at Sad Summer Festival (Portsmouth, VA) on July 11, 2023 | 🎥: the.earth.below
Transcript under the cut
Anthony: What's your name?
Fan: Jamie!
Anthony: Jamie, thanks for trading shirts with me! We might have to trade back, at the end of the song... Because that's my favorite shirt. But I'm gonna keep yours.
Frank: Yeah, but that's my favorite shirt on you now.
Anthony: What?
Frank: That's mine on you... That's my favorite shirt on you now. That's good.
Anthony: Thanks, Francis. Everybody, give it up for Francis!
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naofaun · 1 year ago
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there are some ships that i don't particularly care much about but, in my mind, are completely canon. i don't interact with fan content, i don't really ship them, but i will always see them as partners.
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acid-ixx · 5 months ago
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Happy birthday
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CRYING ?!? this is so good i literally stalked thru ur profile and saw that u were the one who drew fanart of my other favorite batfam stories (like the soulmate animals one) and seeing u make fanart for my own series ??? i feel so honored hehe. i love how u made the reader look small (they can be interpreted as any height ofc) in the art bec the birthday does take place when they're about 12 or younger. otherwise i love the composition and everything about this wahh ur art would now be automatically my bragging rights
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miscgallery · 3 days ago
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jaiiiiden
this apt edit has me in a chokehold
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logray · 5 months ago
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LA HAINE (1995) dir. Mathieu Kassovitz THE WATCHERS (2024) dir. Ishana Night Shyamalan
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dailywillwood · 3 months ago
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give it up will wood we know this is u studying us
Hahahahah you caught me :P
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efflorescencesims · 10 months ago
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who really cares?
☆༉
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