A_Random_Citizen



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    Tim Drake has a habit of wearing other people’s clothes. Hoodies, sweaters, jackets… nothing is safe. It’s never been a problem - until Conner Kent starts noticing.

    Five times Tim borrows from his Batfamily (to the chagrin of one particular boy) + the one time Conner finally does something about it, with a few bonus chaotic moments along the way.

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    10 Jun 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Tim is grateful Hood leaves promptly, in any case, because that means he doesn’t see Tim crawl the last few feet into his house.

     

    [Jack and Janet die uneventfully— at the hands of a home intruder, at 3:41 in the morning on a Thursday. Two gunshots. Tim’s entire world comes to a screeching halt at 3:44, when he finds their bodies.]

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    28 Apr 2026

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    Tim knew he was fucked if only for the way that his brain was chanting Jason, like a litany. So he definitely didn’t need to hear the cold, mechanical chuckle or the chillingly delighted 'lucky me' to know that this was not good.

    He took a second to look down at his coffee mournfully.

    Then, he threw it at Hood’s helmet and bolted down the Tower corridor.

    Or: Tim is supposed to be at Gotham Academy for a parent-teacher conference. Hood has other plans (Titans Tower AU).

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    19 Mar 2026

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    Tim Drake used to love photography. He used to be pretty damn good at it, too.

    He doesn't do it so much anymore.

    And he isn't sure why that seems to bother Damian so much.

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    27 Feb 2026

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    The pain is no longer sharp—just deep and consuming. It throbs with his heartbeat. Every pulse reminds him he’s still here.

    Still breathing.

    Still inconveniently alive.

    Tim considers staying right where he is up against the tree.

    The bleeding will do the hard part—eventually. Hypothermia would help. He’s already soaked from the river anyway and the night air is cold enough to bite. He could close his eyes—rest maybe—stop fighting for once.

    The city lights blur and flicker in the distance.

    No one would know exactly where he is. Maybe not for another few hours or so. They’d search for a while, then when they find Tim maybe he won’t be here anymore.

    His good hand rests limp over his stomach.

    I’m so tired...
    He thinks bleakly the kind of tiredness that settles into your bones and not just your muscles.

    Tim’s eyes flutter shut against the night. Keeping them open requires too much effort.

    His breathing slows, the sound of the water trickling by keeps him semi present, and for a moment—suspended between pain and sleep—Timothy Drake genuinely hopes he doesn’t wake up.

    --

    Or: Tim gets into a motorcycle accident.

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    27 Feb 2026