#Tim is Crow

[o0o-moonlight-o0o]

Timothy and Cassandra Drake were twins, Janet and Jack didn’t like that. You see, the two wanted a daughter, not a son, So when a 5-year-old Tim came up to them and said he didn’t like being a boy with tears in his eyes, they were overjoyed, since that meant they now had two daughters and no sons. When the twins turned 7, Timothy, who was renamed Tina, and Cassandra would pretend there was only one of them, it worked since Tina wasn’t on any records, they had fun with it, and they told each other everything, making sure to teach the other what they knew, Cass had joined a ballet class, so she taught her sister, and Tina was in a computer club, so she made sure Cass know everything about it, each day, they would switch who went to school, Telling each other what they learned, they developed the same handwriting, so it couldn’t be told apart, they had the same signature as well. Tina was always the one who went to school for tests since she liked academic things more than Cass, and Cass went for field trips since she liked seeing new places more than Tina. They never invited friends over, to keep their secret, and their parents stopped traveling to raise the two until they turned 13 and could look after themselves. When the two grew older, Jack and Janet started selling Testosterone and Estergine, making sure it was available for their own daughter as well as other trans kids around Gotham, they sold it at fair prices. Tina had taken up stalking the local vigilantes, Cass following her when she went out, so when Robin was reported dead and Batman grew violent, the two had to do something, they made a plan, Tina would go to Bruce and force herself into the role of robin, and Cass would make her own identity, that way, there would be two of them to keep bruce in line. weeks before they did this, they signed up for self-defense classes and gymnastics, Their Ballet skills helped in their self-training. The two learned to read body language at a young age since they liked to watch people, and they found people’s surprised and startled faces funny, so they knew stealth, so they just needed to learn basic fighting moves and gain strength. When the time came, They put their plan in motion, Cass created her costume and named herself ‘Crow’, and Tina took up the Robin mantle, forcing Bruce to behave himself as to be a good role model to the two children. When their Parents' flight crashed, the two were panicking, since some taking them in would mean revealing that there were two of them, and so, Tina made them a fake uncle and all was well, they just claimed that the uncle was just like their parents, and hired a guy to play the role when the uncle was needed to be seen, and when they turned 16, they got themselves emancipated. At this point, the two had grown tired of pretending to be the same person, so Tina made herself some fake documents and made it so she was Cass’ cousin, and the fake uncle had been her dad, she got herself emancipated and all was done there, the two lived in their manor, Tina ran Drake industries and Cass worked part-time at a ballet studio, at this point, Tina and Cass switched Robin and Crow so it was as if Tina had been Crow the whole time and had just Followed Cass into the business, and bruce was none the wiser.

[chubby-p1nk]

And now I present you- LET TIM HAS MASCOTS MY GOD. This kid wanted a pet for a long time, Dick has a dog, Damian has... a Zoo- Jason is his own fucking mascot (jk, I love him) BUT TIM DOESN'T. So, I was thinking, and the idea of him having stray birds was my favorite- but I couldn't choose between a bird ideal for spying (Doves) or a bird really cool looking with some mystical meaning behind them (Crows)... So I did both. (And yes, Brat was named after Damian as "Demon Brat")

[sewnwithfate]

Me whenever I hear anyone talking about one of my hyperfixations

[misunderstood12]

i hope a crow finds its way to me<3

[4mrplumi]

crow choir: seven minutes

min. one - the egg (batfam x neglected!reader)

ms. 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08

the world’s become buttery and thick, only bits of your vision slipping through drooping eyes, the otherwise strong smell of wet cement and bad paint strangely muted, and somebody crying weakly near your legs. 

you hate this bathtub. been meaning to get it checked for weeks, there must be a crack or something, letting mold grow through the bits. but rent’s so hard already… and you guys don’t even use this for anything. the shower works just fine.

your side starts to hurt, it’s difficult to put a hand on it, the action taking too, too much effort. you want to say something, tell whoever’s crying to shut up, but your words die in your throat, coming out like a whimper. the person starts crying louder. gosh… what’s wrong with her?

on the dirty, tub base, your phone pings, the screen lighting up to a picture too bright for your eyes to register it. you stare at it, hoping it’ll dull out, let you catch a sneak of what’s showed up so suddenly. the girl near your legs hiccups, picking up your phone to check. you don’t feel uneasy. she’s done this before, you can tell. you wait patiently, for her to talk, talk for you and to you.

she stifled a sob, voice dry from crying. “it’s your brother,” she mewled, tapping on the message, “he’s sent a voice mail. do i play it?” you can’t say yes. and your eyes are so, so heavy. you wait for her to understand. so she understands, a long, painted nail tapping at the screen.

geez. this phone’s audio’s terrible. you can barely hear a thing through the buzzing. the guy’s voice is terrible too, airy but squeaky, long drawling words that he says too quick. or is that your ears?

“hey (name)! it’s tim,” it’s tim, “it’s been… a while, since we talked-” a while, “any of us talked, um, with you, actually,” with you, in particular, “me and the others were wondering, y’know, with dick coming to visit this weekend, do you want to-” the audio buzzes out for a second, and comes back quickly,

“-hang out?”

your mouth, that’s been a little open this whole time, for breathing, closes quietly. you can’t answer, to him, or the way the girl near your legs seems to let out a pitiful whine of a noise, seemingly sadder about this than you.

tim… your brother… brothers? want to hang out. you look at your hand, now motionless at your side, and try to flex fingers that won’t move. they’re kind of mean aren’t they? calling you to hang out the one time you can’t. you take a breath, a wheeze, a sorry attempt by your throat to push in mucky, no-good air. you should tell them that you can’t hang out, not this weekend. you look at the girl, the edges of her image blurred, difficult to look at. but they become sharp, and clear for a fraction of a second, and she’s looking back at you, eyes pink and puffy.

your voice, your throat, so difficult to use only a second before, is a little lighter. you can say something. something, but… you have to be fast. blink once, “you’ve got to leave,” you murmur, the girl’s head jutting up sharply, “turn the tap on when you go,” her lip wobbles, you feel bad for making her cry, “none of your stuff should be in this apartment.” she nods. you consider, raising a brow with some difficulty, the muscles in your face falling asleep.

“get rid of that old hag downstairs,” the girl gasps, you hiss at her to shut up, “he doesn’t get to know you were here.” everything will be fine. you’re just a little sad you couldn’t hang out with your family, only just a little, since they were so mean and you didn’t much like them. still. 

you look at your phone, the girl gets up and turns the tap on, water starts wetting your hair. you’d like to hang out, even if they were mean the whole time, just once. you thought you had more time, really, much more time. water starts pooling at your body, your back turning wet and cold. the girl, your friend, looks down at you, sad. she says something, sorry? i love you? i’ll miss you? you ruined my life? you don’t know. tim’s voice plays again in your head, as water blankets your body, still not too close to your head. 

why’d he ask to hang out, the one time you couldn’t? the water’s at your chin. so mean. water covers your face, kissing your head. you’re not scared of drowning. you’ve already stopped breathing. you wish you had one more minute. the blurry colours of the girl leave the bathroom in a rush, muted sounds of clattering and wailing coming from outside the bathroom door. one more minute.

the world goes dark.

people say gotham is a city of secrets, but that’s not true at all. people know, they gossip, they sneer and giggle behind their fingers. there are no secrets in gotham, only things left undiscovered. 

like that prickly pair of kids on the second floor of ms. jone’s place. people whisper that they only share the same last name, and their mother. bastard children looping their arms together and trying to make ends meet. but that’s all they know. everything else is undiscovered.

they don’t know about the older girl selling bad booze and messy powders for scrap money, using it on the little food they could afford, skipping over bills and all-that-nonsense. they don’t know how the younger kid’s almost eight, and still hasn’t started to talk, eerily quiet for most of the day, making troubled noises only in their sleep. they don’t know about (name)’s big sister wiping their tears and singing them terrible lullabies, after yelling herself hoarse and going into hysterics wild enough to call for a month at arkham. no one hears, no one discovers.

they only know that the lady living in that house got into bad trouble last year, went missing with not a single person reporting her absence. her kids didn’t have anyone come for them, but who cares? the eldest was of age, there are far more unfortunate children in gotham. they’ll manage. 

they discover you in november, small hands curled around limp, cold fingers poking out of the tub. the polluted waters of gotham did good for once, you couldn’t see her glassy eyes or swelling lips, her face submerged in water. the cops had picked up your sleeping body, only one of them shaken from discovering you. “odd smell” complaints were hardly issues for the GCPD, gotham smelt like muck. isn’t it so lucky that the one time they bother, there’s something to feel bad about? the smell of flesh? of bad water?

just like they were surprised when they discovered you, you were surprised to discover you weren’t at home anymore, your fingers curled around some stranger police officer’s sleeve. you’d let go of it sharply, eyeing her suspiciously. your sister said the cops weren’t good, that they’d taken her friends and would take her too. did you do something bad? is that why you’re here? you can’t help it; your chin wobbles.

you were left a secret, discovered, but not understood. the police couldn’t get you to talk, not with candy you’d refused or gentle voices unfit for their jobs. the foster homes you’d been put in- perhaps made you quieter, more bitter. you’d snatch away toys the other children tried to take from you, and got relocated quite a lot on complaints of “violent behaviour”. they tried, your caretakers, your “siblings”, the secretariats with their uneasy and frankly irritated smiles, really did try to get you to settle. but you never really did. a poet might’ve been kinder and called you a jumble of rogue waves, with a storm in you that never really seemed to calm. everyone else thought you were a freak.

you can only imagine the desk-lady’s surprise, when she told you your father, your real father, was coming to pick you up, and all those waves suddenly ebbed away. eery, she whispered to her colleagues later, i’d expected surprise, shock, happiness or even anger, but the kid went still! yeah, you must’ve been a freak.

bruce wayne did not come to pick you up, to nearly no one’s surprise. the man was so dreadfully busy, it’d be alot to expect him to come pick up his child! no, the butler came instead, letting you eye his graying hair and polished suit with some level of blunt distaste. but still, you said nothing. you said nothing the whole car-ride, nothing when you hesitantly took the man’s hand and waddled up to the manor in uneven, uneasy steps, nothing when you entered the large, large, empty house.

everything made your head spin. from the too-high ceilings, the too-long corridors, the too-strong scent of something, and bright lights that seemed to engulf you. this was a complete one-eighty from your previous living conditions, and probably sent you into more shock than finding our about your dad.

right, your dad. you’d asked you sister about him once, assuming she’d know. she always knew just about everything, she’d know your dad too, right? 

she didn’t. she’d pinched your cheeks and shoved a spoon of gray oats into your mouth, her voice a mocking sing-song; “my father doesn’t come get me because he can’t,” she’d said, “your father doesn’t get you because he doesn’t want you!” 

so why’d he want you now? maybe he didn’t- that’s why he didn’t pick you up, or show his face even after you’d sat in the living room for nearly two hours, waiting. the butler, his name was “alfred” as you learnt a little later, careened you to your room, leaving you to your few things and many questions left unasked. 

this was your life. would be- your life, for years to come. company served by a desk, a bed, a cupboard and a window in place of your father, your brothers, and your sister. you’re not sure what was so irredeemable, so different, so other about you, that you couldn’t ever manage to sit with them without stiffening in the tension.

they could accept assassins and circus boys, but maybe, you were just too ordinary to fit in with them. it was easier to stay in your room, easier to take up a dozen after-school responsibilities, than it was to stay at home and have to listen to conversations you weren’t privy to. this is just how it is, you’d gone without a fight, it’s just how it’s meant to be.

bruce did speak to you, quite a few times after you’d come to the manor. he’d asked how your mother was, initiating a long stare-off that ended with him nodding and leaving. the next conversations were just as awkward, miserable and weird. strained discussions about your old homes, stories about your mom you really didn’t care about, promises of events where you’d get to know your family, and maybe other children your age. you despised him, really, you did.

but this is how it’s meant to be. you assume, accept, this is your new life, this is punishment. for what? who knows. there are far more unfortunate children in gotham, you can’t complain, you accept this new life. this punishment; your brothers’ eyes turning away from your dark, gleaming ones, your sister pursing her lips and avoiding you quietly, all while you try to manage some behaviour of yours, some atmosphere around you that you don't know how to get rid of, barely even know exists. this is punishment, you have to accept it.

the first minute passes quietly.

˖ 𑣲 a/n: much has happened since i last uploaded anything on tumblr, my writing style too, definitely. i guess this marks the official discontinuation of the original crow choir series, which despite the love it got and the ideas i initially had for it, were really draining me, and going nowhere. thank you to everyone who's supported my writing, and for 600 followers ❤️ stay safe and well!

tag list: @lettucel0ver @marsmabe @alishii @1abi @c4xcocoa @bbmgirll @sirenetheblogger @privatebumblebee

[crow-eyed-art]

@90skonweek Day 1: Family / Friends

get dangled nerd 💙

[marcysmaltedcrayon]

Me when people make silly little jokes about how a character has never done anything wrong ever: 😍🕺😁🫦✨🥳

Me when ppl start to genuinely inerpret the character that way and their entire personality and complexity is erased:😭😡💔😨😢🔫😩

[pengold]

More Carrion AU from @polarspaz !!

I was working on this a while ago but was hating my rendering, but now I render differently and I think it looks a lot better now! Also, I added neck scratches cuz I feel like he picks his skin...totally not projecting 👀

(also there is a hidden Batman, see if you can find him)

[phantasragon]

[darryscrow]

[polarspaz]

Carrion AU

Tim having a proper brooding session. (̿▀̿ ̿Ĺ̯̿̿▀̿ ̿)̄

[grrrlpsychotic]

Today's breakdown: I adore the "weird ones." The characters everyone labels as strange — the authentic, the theatrical, the over-the-top. Especially those with a rocker, outsider vibe, so stylish it hurts. Dark aura? Accused of witchcraft? Satanism? Branded as "freaks" by puritans? YES, PLEASE!

[insomanic-fanfication]

BatBoys React to Cuddly Werewolf Boyfriend

Authors Note: It's been stressful lately, working on my new job. Working on getting into college. Why does life gotta be so hard, fucking hell... So anyway, I'm gonna do this little thing cause I got to the episode in Supernatural when Sam fucked a werewolf, and this popped into my head. Summary: The batboys (separately) are dating a werewolf, who, while turning is a natural cuddle bug towards them.

Dick Grayson: Dick would absolutely love how cuddly you are with him, especially when you are "wolfed out". When you guys first started dating his first insist was probably to treat your werewolf side like a dog. Humanoid wolf thing? Well, it still has wolf in the name, and it's face is dog shaped, can you blame him? Which he would kind of feel bad about, until you told him it was fine. His absolute favorite thing in the world is to cuddle with you on the couch where he can almost, almost, suffocate himself in your fur.

Jason Todd: He was all for it snice the beginning, especially when he found out your wolf side really loves to playfight with him. Though, it took him a little bit more time before he accepted that your favorite sleeping spot was on top of him. Now don't get him wrong, he isn't weak, your just heavy.. and for someone who was buried into a small coffin. Your full body weight trapping him on to the couch can be too much for his ptsd. Though, you both learned to work around it. Mostly, cause hearing you whine like he physically hurt you, broke his heart.

Tim Drake: If you had to describe him in one word, it would be 'Cautious', at least if we were being nice. The first few times he met your wolf side; he was extremely nervous to say the least. He wasn't like he was afraid you would shred him to small bits, no. You would never do that to him, he knew that. But... accidents do happen, 'What if you rolled on top of him while you were asleep?' or 'got to excited while you two were playing?'. His anxiety definitely didn't help him as he was forming a bond with your wolf side. But, your wolf side could sense that. So your wolf side would start by moving it's body close to the ground, and inching it's towards Tim while he was sitting down. Stopping if Tim looked towards it. You had to be sneaky if you wanted snuggles. Until you were close enough to rest your head on his thigh, looking up to him with the saddest most hopefully puppy eyes. Waiting to see if Tim would allow you to stay. All he could do was sigh at how stupid but cute your wolf sides behavior was. Reaching out a hand to pet your head and relaxing himself. Causing your wolf side to wag its tail aggressively, unable to contain it's excitement.

___________________________________________________________

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[Last Edited: 14 April, 2025]

[punsarethebest]

had a dream where tim drake lived amongst crows in a forest and was like raised by them so he adopted crow tendencies (pretty much like mowgli w the wolves). he was feared by all of gotham and the forest he lived in was soon abandoned by locals and a fence was put around it so that nobody could go in or out.

people called him The Birdman.

anyway the funniest part was when bruce and damian decided to visit and investigate that forest at night cuz they wanted check out the infamous Birdman and like see if he was actually real or just another overthetop urban legend when tim fucking attacked them whilst cawing the entire time.

it went like:

tim: *is sitting menacingly among tree branches*

damian: father is that The Birdman

tim: *jumps down on damian and begins trying to rip his hair out* CAW! CAW! CAW!

damian: *starts screeching and attempting to push tim off*

bruce: *horrified staring*

[4mrplumi]

crow choir: seven minutes min. two - hatchling (batfam x neglected!reader)

ms. 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08

something bites at your hand, and with a jolt, you awake from your sleep to find it’s your own mouth pressed against it. you pull it away under the weight of your quilt, blinking up at the ceiling above you. 

time’s moved differently since you came here, the minutes you used to spend being angry replaced with a whole lot of nothing now. it’s dilated, you’ll think a day has passed only to find out it’s been an hour, the present feels like a distant memory, your bones too little for your body.

the time… right, what’s the time? you look at the alarm clock on your bedside table, vision blurred and difficult to figure out. nearly eight o’clock. your family might be up already, you squint, getting up, except maybe tim. 

even though you wake up at eight, you don’t get up until much later. time passes differently in the wayne manor, remember? it’s only around nine thirty that you actually sneak down the stairs, footsteps light as they avoid alfred cleaning in the living room, and into the kitchen to get yourself an apple. dick’s come to visit, from bludhaven, but you haven’t seen him so far yet.

you take a bite of the apple, swerving off into the back garden, sitting behind a bush. you hope by the time you’re done eating, a million years have passed, and you don’t have to see any of them again; your family. what happens instead, is your ears pick up some conversation, and the only thing you can make out are the voices. damian, dick and bruce. 

you blink, and suddenly you’re fourteen again, having your first meal with the family. you didn’t know jason and damian back then, your older brother still six feet under to your knowledge, and the younger likely scaling a mountain after breakfast. it was you, bruce, alfred and tim, since dick lived in bludhaven.

what was there to say, or do, really? you didn't feel much left out of anything, since they rarely ever did anything. tim and bruce both spent much more time in their rooms and offices, or at galas and ceremonies than they did at home. and what in the world would you have in common with alfred? you avoided him more than he did you.

your life got relatively busier once you got enrolled in school, feeling horribly awkward among children entirely out of your league. of course, your guardian was the bruce wayne, you weren’t out of place financially. simply put, (name) was a loner, having no friends before or after the “wayne intervention”. you’d sit far off in a corner during lunch, speak to only your teachers, and busy yourself with work when the loneliness got too suffocating. too big for your little bones.

you can’t blame yourself entirely for being a loser in the early days. tim skipped school regularly, so despite being in the same class, you two were barely ever in the same place at the same time. the other kids thought you were too posh, or arrogant, seeing you so closed off to them. bruce wayne’s money must’ve got to your head fast, they’d assume. either that, or you were just too much of a freak to be around, that old gleam having never quite left your eyes, despite how tired they were nowadays.

being at home was positively worse. the hallways stretched out for what felt like miles, always empty and quiet. you would’ve considered sun shining through the windows a blessing when you were younger, but now it just made you ill, the orange and yellow making your head spin. waking up felt like a chore, since you got up to the same quietness that you fell asleep to.

the little relief you had from this monotony would come when dick came to visit from bludhaven. despite how miserable you seemed, unapproachable even, he did try. he’d take you and tim outside to a number of food trucks and parks and carnivals, sometimes he’d bring back gifts from bludhaven. the two of you were never really close, no, not the way he was with tim, or damian later. but he was there, for a while. he'd tried to be ordinary, and you'd tried to be anything but.

you could go as far as to say you didn’t dislike him as much, maybe, for just a second even considered him family. but things fell apart eventually, they always do! things age, they rot, they become old. you grow older.

at some point cassandra became a name you hear murmured among tim and bruce more and more often, but you payed no mind. you met her, the two of you content with avoiding each other's attendance. there’s a shine in her eyes, attentively sharp, different from the heavy weight and bluntness you’ve felt from your own reflection in mirrors. bruce favours her, you understand, and it drives the little surviving wrath you have for him mad. too ordinary.

you’re not too sure when dick started distancing from you (you noted with a little disdain, that very little came in between his bond with tim). maybe a little while before you met jason for the first time?

jason. 

you spit an apple seed onto the ground, eyes zoning out on it. you don’t like him, but you don’t know enough to dislike him. the first time jason came around to the manor was much after everyone else had already met him- after he “came back”. no one bothered to tell you what that meant, though. came back from where?

you’d woken in the middle of the night, with a crater formed in your chest from this ever-persistent sense of anxiety, and couldn't go back to sleep. with nothing to do to get rid of that feeling, you’d made a silly decision to haunt the kitchen at midnight, fill that crater with some imported snack. after all, gotham was always prettier at night, and there’d be no alfred to catch you.

maybe if you’d chosen another day then, you wouldn’t be so weary to leave your room at dark now. it was just your luck to accidentally stumble upon a disheveled and blood-stained jason, digging through the pantry like an animal. were you dreaming? was this some nightmare?

you’d both tensed in sync, but where his hand instinctively reached for the gun strapped to his thigh, yours clamped around the edge of the clothes you were wearing. he didn’t grab his gun, neither of you said anything.

some expression of distaste went over his face. you could see it- a silent “another one?”, peeking out from behind him domino mask in the dark, and nothing more. you both agreed quietly, that you didn’t see each other, and he left through the window, leaping.

all your interactions after that have been “supervised” by somebody else. you’ve not talked to jason. you think he doesn’t want to ever have to talk to you. you have nothing in common, so with very little remorse, you decide you really don’t care.

it’s not until damian arrives that you truly feel jealous. that you really begin to resent your reclusivity, your inability to be a part of their family for the first time. it’s the softness in dick’s expression that stopped being directed to you long ago, that sends you rabid, bruce’s hand on his shoulder that makes you bite your tongue into bloody bits, and the way he scowls and bites so often, and gets away with it, that truly makes you upset for the first time.

maybe if he’d been like the rest, nothing but a coloured mass in the corner of your eye, you would’ve gotten over it. you had a lot to do. a lot, really. but he wasn’t like them, no- he was like you. but he wasn't ordinary, so were you like him? you were only ordinary.

his presence felt suffocating, even when he was far off in the corner away from you. if you tried to shut your eyes, your little brother shone through your eyelids like a radiating studio-light, persistent. 

damian noticed you, that’s what was the worst. you’d once peered down at him from a balcony, watching him swing a sword around in the garden, caught off-guard when he looked up and stared back at you. the attention startled you, the smallest sneer that pulled at his lips discomfited you greatly. what was more startling, and possibly your worst observation, was the look in his eyes.

the same storm the desk ladies used to talk about, when they talked about you, was there. that freak was reborn, you were sure of it. the only difference? a freak in a family of freaks is nothing, the ordinary becomes an alien.

how did he manage it? to fit in so quickly? you were both fish out of water, adapting to your new surroundings (unfamiliar surroundings, you correct yourself, you’ve been here for years now), but where he got an aquarium, you got a plastic bag filled with water.

you observed from the gaps between the staircase railings, how he culled his accent and matched his mannerisms to bruce’s. he adapted, integrated into the elite gothamite-society. you’d just frozen the time around you, remaining the same ghoulish child, in a bigger body, with little bones. jealousy ate up at you, dissolving the cobwebs in your unfeeling self and making space for new, unwelcome feelings

for a while, you went mad. nobody noticed you did. your neck, and shoulders burned, ears pulsing with doubts, chest heaving in tension. a pebble of sorts formed in your throat; urging you to vomit even when there was nothing you could throw up.

you couldn’t change this. you couldn’t change who you were. what you are. bruce took in dick, he took in jason, cassandra and tim, damian’s mother loved him and his father loves him dearly. you were forced upon them, made to haunt their manor like a ghost from an old movie- a curse. you couldn’t change who you were, a gothamite gargoyle, useless next to dying sisters and and a wild beast to unsuspecting, kind people.

you were a punishment, on their family, contributing to nothing good- not once in your life. bruce must despise you, alfred must loathe having to care for one more person, one far more ungrateful than the rest. you can’t even imagine how your siblings feel about having to see this stranger in their house. and you know you’re a stranger, the way they hesitate in the middle of their conversations when you walk in, the way damian still glances at you with a frown, despite having “sobered”, the way jason’s- so alienated and other, presence seems more natural than you… you know how horrifying it is to be an ordinary stranger.

a gargoyle, a ghoul, a ghost. too polished to return to your life in the common streets and too out-of-place to colour yourself as one of them. there’s no place for you here, and none anywhere else, that’s your punishment.

you finish your apple, suddenly aware of tears that prick at your eyes. you wipe them away quickly, no, you refuse to cry over such silly things. there are so many far more unfortunate people out there. you have no right to be miserable. none.

dick, bruce and damian wayne walk away, and a million years still haven't passed. you try to rest your head against the bush-pillar, but your hair catches on twigs and nettles. this is your punishment.

the second minute passes painfully, while you tug frizzing hair out of the leaves.

˖ 𑣲 a/n: it's so cool getting to upload these in queue, 'cause it somehow feels like i'm playing into the whole "time dilation" feel from the start bit lol. is the lack of dialogue a bit much? i will write conversations, i guess right now the style needs it for 'recounting' bits. anyway, thank you for reading!

taglist: @lettucel0ver @marsmabe @alishii @1abi @c4xcocoa @bbmgirll @sirenetheblogger @privatebumblebee @noone1233nobody @4ishere @mev-fizzah-writes @quack-a-vasion @myjumper @pix-stuff @callenreesevzx @cupid73 @nininehaaa @nisarelle @jjsmeowthie @ollyissleepy @uppersurper @angwngss

[crow-eyed-art]

"Superman, Hi!"

he's talking to Superman on the phone and is SO chill about it 🖤

I drew, scanned, and edited this in the same day- for the first and likely only time