Me: I need to get better at everything. Cooking, focusing, emotional regulation-
*Proceeds to get worse*
-Keith

#batman#bruce wayne#dick grayson#batfamily#batfam#clark kent#tim drake#dc fanart


seen from Belgium
seen from United States
seen from Iraq

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Yemen
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Singapore
seen from China
seen from Uzbekistan
seen from United States
seen from Belarus
seen from Yemen
seen from China
seen from United States

seen from Canada
seen from China
Me: I need to get better at everything. Cooking, focusing, emotional regulation-
*Proceeds to get worse*
-Keith
Undiagnosed autism is like being weirded out when spongebob was freaking out about adding too much sauce and plankton was so confused and so was I but now I get it because it really be like thst sometimes
Acoustics
The antagonist was always skilled with guitars. Most instruments came easily to them, but especially those with four strings turned to liquid gold in the antagonist’s hands.
Listening to them was a favorite pastime of the protagonist, back before. Music never came to easily to them, hard as they might try, every key managed to fall flat.
It was funny now, that after all the time separated, all the times the protagonist came home to an music-less space, they still managed to recognize the lightest tap of fingers against the table surface.
Through the darkness, regular eyes would see nothing, they would write it off as the faucet dripping, the house settling. Even though the protagonist’s eyes saw everything, it was the tapping fingers of the antagonist they noticed first.
As though tired of waiting, the antagonist let out a puff of air. “You kept your guitar.”
Your guitar. They said.
The protagonist only took off their coat in response.
“You may need to tune it, looks like it hasn’t been touched in a while.”
Instead of answering, or turning on a light, the protagonist leaned against the front door, all seeing eyes carefully aimed on the antagonist at their kitchen table.
The tapping stopped with two final beats on the wood. “Straight to business then.” They rose from their seat. “I-”
“No.” The protagonist interrupted, pushing themselves off the door. “Your business is no business of mine.”
“You kept your guitar.”
“I want to learn someday.”
The antagonist snorted, trailing after the protagonist. “That won’t happen anytime soon.”
“Someday, I said. You should go.” The protagonist moved smoothly in their kitchen, the antagonist never letting their gaze off them.
“Oh, I almost certainly will, but not without you.”
The protagonist slowed, muscles tensed in a warning.
“Willingly, of course. Such an important face disappearing overnight would do no good.”
The protagonist continued on, cutting board in hand. “That won’t happen, so you should go. Now, preferably, or else-”
“Or else? You might have forgotten, I’m also an important face.”
“Important faces still get in trouble for breaking and entering.”
The antagonist tsked in disapproval. “Darling, you know better than that. I outgrew petty laws some time ago. Whoever you called wouldn’t be nearly stupid enough to try something.” They lowered themselves to the protagonist’s height, just by their ear. “Guess which politician I got to some ten years ago?”
“So the corruption rumors?” The protagonist shrugged the antagonist off easily, the vegetables they were chopping seeming less important.
“Ah, you never were subtle with your interrogation. Rigatoni?”
The protagonist’s fingers whitened around the knife. “No. I’m not a fan of pasta these days.”
“Shame. Can I still have any of what your making?”
“No.”
The antagonist shrugged. “Fine, fine. There’s a chef or two back at my place. Not half as skilled, though.”
The knife was slammed onto the counter. “I’ll bite, if only to make you stop talking and leave. What do you want?”
“There you are.” The antagonist grinned. “I was beginning to wonder if this little hovel was rubbing off on you. Meekness doesn’t suit you, never did.”
“Spit it out, Antagonist.”
Their grin dropped, slowly, lazily. “Alright. You probably know, I’m in with the big leagues now, the same promise of fame and immortality.” The antagonist looked more sinister, saying this. “Fools. Their power’s in my lap, but there’s a problem.”
The protagonist watched them warily.
“Some conflicts with other countries that couldn’t be avoided, not without internal conflict, at least. So, I need someone like me on the other side of things, politically.”
“You want me to spy?”
The antagonist sucked air in through their teeth. “It’s more involved than that, but essentially, yes.”
“Get out.”
The antagonist chuckled, putting on an affronted look. “Come now, darling. Surely you don’t find small town dealings to your taste. The opportunity is there, great nations at our feet if we just worked together-”
“The last time-” the protagonist had stopped, realized their voice was raised, and lowered it. “The last time I trusted you, I was consumed by your greed and your ambitions.”
“My greed? My ambitions?” The antagonist’s eyes flashed with anger. “Dear, if I recall correctly, and I do, it was you who wanted to strongarm the world into greatness, into ‘utopia’.”
“And it was you who would raze it down to fulfill your need for power. I wanted-I still want a peaceful world. If I have to do that, one town, one city, one state at a time, I will.”
The antagonist pursed their lips. “Is it so bad to want to world in my image? I’ve been around long enough. You have, too. And if we get bored, we can topple it over again. That’s the beauty of being us.”
“The beauty?” The protagonist recoiled. “The beauty is abusing your gift?”
“I would hardly call this a gift. Why shouldn’t we use what we don’t want?”
With a wrinkled nose, the protagonist stepped back. “You and I have nothing to do with each other. Leave.”
The antagonist raised their eyebrows, considering something. “Fine then. I’ll see you in what, fifty years? A hundred? As soon as you don a new name, a new position, I’ll be there, waiting.” They lurched forward, taking hold of the protagonist’s hand. “We only have time, my love.” With a kiss to the protagonist’s hand, the antagonist was gone.
yaz would totally be one of those people who sleeps like 15 hours in a day. not for any reason but just because she can
when you put your insecurities onto a character you ship with a comfort character in the hopes that someone will love you even with said insecurities and flaws
my two braincells trying to communicate during a test
'Why do you always have either music, youtube, or tiktok on?"
Me: