#timdrakeweek2026

[zafferella]

Tim Drake week day one! Prompt: coffee/energy drinks.

(I have such a fun idea for the young just us prompt but knew it would take too long to post today so I’ll post it on the free day. Spoiler: it’s a racing AU)

My art requests are open!!

@tim-drake-week

[lettersfromaplatypus]

Tim Drake Week Mini Fic! Day 2

Title: Rebuilding Nests

Prompts: Accidental sibling acquisition, hope, Wing AU

Songs: hawk in the night, strange sight, someone to stay

Non-Tim Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, others may be mentioned but not central

Ships: none, strictly family/platonic

Warnings: bad parents Jack and Janet Drake, child abuse

Summary: Despite being deep in grieving over Jason’s death, when Dick finds a beaten baby bird he can’t help but take him in. Tim has always found hope in the bats, but little does he know that they’re finding hope in him too.

Note: This is definitely meant to be a much longer story that I hope I’ll find the time to write and put on AO3 eventually, but for now here’s a snapshot.

@tim-drake-week

Tim trudged through the snow on the side of the road, just able to make out the blurry orange porch lights of Wayne Manor up ahead. If he could just get up the next hill, maybe he could ask them to… to…

Well, he wasn’t entirely sure. But he was so cold it hurt, and his wings were dragging on the ground behind him and weighing him down, and the bruises on his stomach and the welts on his back made it hard to breathe.

And Bruce Wayne was Batman, so surely Batman could do something about this?

A low rumble behind him startled him. A low voice called out a question that Tim’s tired brain couldn’t comprehend. Bright lights filled his vision, and he suddenly flashed back to that day at the circus years ago. The bright canopy spotlights, the two figures falling, a smaller figure swooping down while screaming—

And now another, much taller figure was, well, not quite swooping but instead scooping down and picking him up. Curling him into warm arms against a strong chest. Gently pulling his wings closer so they weren’t pulling on his back.

Oh. Tim hadn’t even realized he had fallen.

He let out the tiniest screech before clapping a hand over his mouth. He wasn’t supposed to be soft or like soft things. That’s how he got into this mess in the first place.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay baby bird,” the nice low voice said. “You’ll be okay.”

Tim vaguely felt the motions of being placed in the back seat of a car. At the far edge of his mind, it occurred that he might be being kidnapped again and he should try to escape. But kidnappers typically didn’t treat him so nicely. And he was too hurt and tired to do much about it anyway.

The car jolted forward, jostling his injuries and making him let out another whimper which he tried to stifle. What was with him today? The Drakes did not whimper or screech like this. They were hawks.

A rustle of other feathers made Tim open his eyes just a little more. He was tired, but he wanted to at least see a little of his potential kidnapper.

Black wings, sleek and honestly more fragile looking than Tim’s family’s, blocked the majority of his view. But in the rear view mirror, he caught a glimpse of blue eyes, black hair, and a face Tim recognized from Bludhaven’s police reports.

“B. I know things aren’t great right now. I know. But I’ve got a fledgling here and he really needs some help…”

Tim had just enough conscious awareness to connect the dots (that’s the first Robin! And the flying Grayson!) before sleep finally won him over.

[tim-drake-week]

Tim Drake Week — January 2026

Because fandom weeks are fun, there was interest, and I haven’t found an active Tim Drake week that isn’t focused on a particular ship. The goal of the event is to make fanworks about our blorbo and build a community around Tim Drake.

If you have any suggestions for prompts, playlist songs, or just general suggestions, please fill out the suggestion form! You can also follow this blog for updates.

Tim Drake Week Suggestions - 2026

Share your ideas for Tim Drake Week!

[jistor]

object in motion

@tim-drake-week Day 2: Accidental Sibling Acquisition | Hope | Wing AU

Word count: 3.1k

Rating: G

Summary:

Some birds grow up learning to sing. Robin did, and it’s put to excellent use in the dark of night, when his calls to Batman go unnoticed - or even better, when they’re used as a harbinger.

Tim learns through context and extended exposure. He can understand birdsong, but he doubts he could replicate it, and a lot of things get lost in translation.

No, Tim grew up learning to hunt. He grew with the speed and strength of a bird of prey, guided by the knives of his parents at his back. Weak Drakes get picked off, is the story they tell him at bedtime.

[cadkitten]

A Thin, Fragile Line

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Please heed all warnings and tags on this story, as it is pseudo-dark fic and may not be for all audiences. For @tim-drake-week prompt "I lie to Batman" (a few days late) and @dcdarkweek prompts Peeping: Filming // Power & Control: Voyeurism (eons late).

[skylernightmare]

I'm apparently notoriously bad at remembering to let anyone know on time that the next part is out-

But here is part 4 for the Tim Drake Week that I posted yesterday, Remembrance; featuring the Time Travel prompt:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/77337791

[zafferella]

Tim drake week day 7, free prompt

eeeeeee I wanted to finish this but y’know, life.

Core four racing au has been living in my brain. If anyone has a fic rec for smth like this PLEASE lmk. (Or if anyone knows how to start getting into f1 stuff I’d also love to know that)

thanks sm to @tim-drake-week event!

[lettersfromaplatypus]

Tim Drake Week Mini Fic! Day 7

Title: You’ll Get There

Prompts: Skateboard

Songs: blackbird, this year

Non-Tim Characters: Bernard Dowd

Ships: Tim Drake/Bernard Dowd

Warnings: IDK how to tag this, and it’s not super explicit, but Tim reflects on a time when he was suicidal, and how he’s been recovering from that. So small bits of suicidal thoughts, but they quickly turn hopeful? Just in case.

Summary: Tim teaches his boyfriend how to skateboard and reflects on the past few years.

Note: DC stands for Disregard Canon. Also this is the last day of this event, so thank you @tim-drake-week for giving us such a fun time!

The sun was starting to set, painting the skate park in pinks and golds. Tim watched in amusement as his boyfriend tried to do a turn on his skateboard for what felt like the hundredth time.

After a few wobbly almost-collisions with a group of middle schoolers, Bernard gave up and walked in a defeated line back to where Tim was.

“How do you do this, babe? It’s literally impossible.”

“The thirteen year olds roasting you that hard?”

“Hey, thirteen year olds are the meanest people in the world. They terrify me to this day,” Bernard plopped down on the bench.

Tim patted his shoulder. “There, there, teddy bear. You’ll get there eventually. It just takes time.”

“How much time?”

“Well I’ve been doing this since I was like ten so…”

His boyfriend groaned and dramatically draped an arm over his face. “So I’m gonna be thirty by the time I catch up to ya?”

“Probably.”

Bernard made more sounds of protest and went back to try again, but the conversation got Tim thinking. Thirty. Damn. Somehow he never envisioned that one coming.

Then again there was a point where he hadn’t envisioned anything past seventeen.

His mom died. His dad was in a coma and then had to do intense recovery after he woke up. His best friend died. His other best friend died. He tried to clone him. His team turned to shambles, two of his brothers tried to kill him, the other brother tried to suggest Arkham time, his mentor fell into the mother fucking time stream and nobody but him believed it until he sold his soul to get him back— and his spleen.

Yeah. After all that, it was a little hard to answer “what’s your five year plan?”

But now, sitting in this skate park watching his boyfriend take another goofy, wobbly gamble at one of his own favorite hobbies (hey, he had hobbies again!) he felt like maybe revisiting that question was actually a possibility.

His best friends had come back. His brothers were mostly forgiven (until the next time they messed with his coffee). His mentor had been rescued. His team was back together.

It had taken walking through Hell…but he hadn’t stopped in Hell.

“Whoawhoawhoawhoawhoa!”

Tim snapped back to the present. His boyfriend’s arms were flailing everywhere as the board sped forward, a wild look of panic on his face.

Bernard crashed into Tim’s arms, the skateboard flying out behind him. They landed on top of one another in a tangle of limbs.

Bernard turned bright red and face planted onto Tim’s chest. “Oh my god I’m so sorry, Tim! God I’m a mess why can’t I— why are you laughing?”

Tim, to his own surprise as well, was laughing. Really laughing, the kind that shook his whole body and forced him to smile wide. The kind that felt like it was chasing all the bad feelings away.

He couldn’t even articulate why this made him laugh harder than he had in years. But it felt good.

He brushed Bernard’s golden hair out of his face (it was so soft) and cupped his boyfriend’s face in his hands. “I love you,” he smiled, giving Bernard a small kiss on his nose.

“Pfft, I love you too. Now please tell me you’re not saying this because you’re hiding the concussion I just gave you and are about to keel over.”

“First off, I promise I’m not concussed. Head didn’t event hit the ground. Second off, me? Hide an injury? Never.”

Tim sat up, the concrete growing cold on his legs. The sun was officially set now, the skate park in a dull blue haze. Before he could stand, Bernard had his face buried in his stomach and arms wrapped around him.

“You’re damn right never. Never again. Right, Timmy?”

There would still be nights where he would come home bloody after tortuous fights. There would still be days where he would want to burn the world down. There would still be times when Tim wanted to curl up in bed and let the weight of the world crush him.

But no more hiding his injuries. No more charging into battle recklessly, not caring if he lived or died. He had to live now— at least to thirty. To see Bernard learn how to skateboard.

He ignored the use of his loathed nickname. “Yeah, I got there.”