Nightwing: Guys, we don’t have “origin stories”, we have lives.
Nightwing: *looks around at the rest of the Batfamily*
Nightwing: At least… Yup, just me.
Just because you have a healthy social life, it doesn’t mean you get to rub it in people’s faces. Dick.
When you’ve been hopped up on caffeine for way too long…
The Batfamily: *watching Cassandra’s ballet recital at the Gotham City Opera House*
Tim: This is amazing! And possibly in real time!
In which Jason and Damian get permission from Dick to tranquilize their brother.
Bruce: I scolded Damian today, so according to – *reads smudged writing on his palm* — “The Robin Bylaws”, I now have to grant him three wishes.
Alfred: …
Parenting. Comes easy, it does not.
Dick drafted the original bylaws, by the way. Jason, Tim, and Damian merely perfected them.
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?
Red Hood: Don’t tell me what I can’t do! What are you, Cosmo’s July quiz?
Nightwing:
Red Hood:
Nightwing: What?
Red Hood: What?
So he likes to read. Big whoop, Dick.
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.
Of the few things that make the coolest, sassiest butler in all of comics lose his cool…
Alfred: Master Dick, WHERE ARE YOUR PANTS?!
Kid Flash [to witness]: I was gonna ask you the same question, Ma’am…
Nightwing: Dude, this woman just witnessed a crime…
Kid Flash: *grinning* Yeah, a crime in progress. She’s stealing my heart, but I ain’t pressing charges.
Dick: *reads newspaper article about the Drake-Wayne/Fox engagement*
Dick [to Tim]: You intended to propose without telling me, your eldest and most good-looking brother?!
Nightwing: *accidentally sits on his own cellphone*
Kid Flash: *reads text message from bestbrobin: “Ey, Wal”*
Kid Flash: *smirks* Creepiest butt-text ever.
And the mystery that is Richard John Grayson’s gluteal muscles goes on…
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