Meow

listen to me. grips you by the shoulders. listen.

tim could be the second coming of lois lane.

they both have this incredibly nosy streak and an inability to stay out of situations if they think they can improve them. they are both fuelled by the need to do what is right and if no one else is gonna do it then by god they will.

"i care so much that i have to do something about it" is a fundamental tim and lois trait. "a locked door just means you have something to hide and i will find it" is also a fundamental tim and lois trait.

Junior what got you smiling like that? 🤡

Because Bat-brat does not like to share.

Tim knew better. They weren’t peaceful— they were grieving: Dick and Tim for their father, Alfred for his son. 

Tim stopped in the foyer for a few moments to breathe in, breathe out, pull himself together before he headed down to the kitchen. If he didn’t eat now, he never would. 

He pulled up suddenly when he saw Damian standing in the hallway, studying the wall of family photographs. What was he still doing here? Wasn’t he going to leave?

Tim continued walking. “Damian,” he said flatly on his way past. 

“Drake,” Damian shot back. 

Tim made it all the way to the next door before Damian sighed softly from behind him. Tim turned backwards and found Damian still absorbed in the pictures. He might not have realized he made a noise in the first place. 

Tim turned around and walked back down the hallway. Damian didn’t react to that at all, just reached out a hand to touch the frame of one of the larger photographs. 

“That’s Bruce and me in Chicago,” Tim told Damian. “We went to a conference there, then down to the lake for the beaches. We stayed for a week. It was good.”

“And this one?” Damian asked, pointing towards another.

“Dick, Bruce, and Jason, back when Jason was young. I guess they went skiing.”

Damian nodded and moved down the wall to the next set of pictures. He turned to Tim with a questioning look. 

“Cass and Barbara before a party. Dick’s high school graduation. Bruce in France.”

The last was a framed picture of Bruce in a garden, seated on a bench and looking over his shoulder, solemnly, at the camera. 

“I took that one,” said Tim. “He always brought me with him when he had to leave. I loved that about him.”

Tim did love that about Bruce. He’ll be back, Tim reminded himself. You can still get him back.