Brainstorming with your brothers be like…
Nightwing, Red Hood, and Robin: *stare expectantly at Tim, waiting for his approval*
Red Robin: Did you all hit your heads on each other’s heads?
Tag: damian wayne
“What If” with the Super Sons…
Robin: *typing on the Batcomputer*
Superboy: *whistling*
Robin: *pauses typing* -Tt-
Superboy: Hey, Damian, if you were a post-apocalyptic survivor –
Robin: I would raise goats, hoard cinnamon, and only travel at night. But, please, Kent, I have some work to do here.
Discussing how to get back at your bully of a tiny brother…
Jason: Why don’t you give Damian one of those pills you take? That’ll make him give up on his dreams.
Tim: Relaxarex doesn’t make you give up on your dreams! That’s a side effect!
~ · ~ · ~ · ~ · ~ · ~
In which Jason’s jaw drops. That’s a real thing? I was kidding, Timbo… C’mere, let me – stop pushing – let me hug you.
Damian: There are only two things I don’t do well: apologies and drawing duck bills.
Phenomenal artist, this little one. Just not great with duck bills. Oh, and humility.
Damian: You know where Batman was for most of my birthdays? A little place that rhymes with “not there”.
Jon: …. Times Square?
Damian: -Tt-
Damian: *walks away*
Tim: I love you.
Tim: That being said, Damian gives me the creeps. So, for a romantic night in, how about we install security cameras and an alarm? *wags eyebrows*
Steph: *deadpan* Be still my heart.
Batman: *reads article in Gotham Gazette about Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, and Robin, and around 5 million dollars-worth of property damage*
Batman: Hrrrn.
Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, and Robin: …
Batman:
Batman: *sighs*
Batman: *takes out check book*
Batman: I prefer you screw up while not wearing your uniforms.
Damian: Keep pissing me off and I’m gonna rip your heart out, Drake, and that’s an organ you need!
Tim: *sips coffee* Actually, that’s a muscle.
Damian: Whatever!
You’re technically both right (it’s a muscular organ), but carry on.
Why the Robins steer clear of their tiny, flu-ridden brother…
Damian: *teary-eyed, sniffling, and lying in bed, covered in a blanket from head to toe*
Damian: *pulls out a katana* Rub my back at a medium, gentle pace, Todd.
Red Hood: Alfred says I might have a concussion. I wasn’t able to pick up the little brat from school this morning. Oh, and get this, I have a concussion!
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