Three sparring sessions later…
Damian: Ah, Todd, don’t feel bad for losing. I’ve been wrestling wolves since I was at my mother’s teat.
And he’s being painfully literal.
Three sparring sessions later…
Damian: Ah, Todd, don’t feel bad for losing. I’ve been wrestling wolves since I was at my mother’s teat.
And he’s being painfully literal.
When the Teen Titans won’t take your leadership seriously…
Robin: *storming out of the Tower conference room* I’ll show them who’s “just a kid”!
Nightwing: *yelling from across the hall* Damian, bedtime! I laid out your jammy-jams!
Damian: Drake.
Tim: Brat. The bet ends today. Are you ready?
Damian: I was born ready.
Tim: To lose? The whole question was, “Are you ready to lose?” and you said you were born that way.
Damian: Twist my words all you want.
Tim: Okay.
Damian: I’m winning this bet.
Jason: What bet? What’re you guys talking about?
Dick: Seriously? The bet? They’ve been keeping score all year. It comes up all the time. What are you doin’ all day?
Jason: Nothin’. Why, you wanna hang out?
Damian: I was sitting there, Drake!
Tim: I don’t see your name on it, Brat!
Damian: It’s right there! *points*
Alfred: Master Damian, don’t carve your name on the floor.
Welcoming 2018 in the Manor be like…
Dick: Starting tomorrow, there’s going to be twice as much love in this house as there is now!
Jason: We’re going to start it in the morning?!
When you get off patrol and your little brother insists that you read him a bedtime story…
Dick: Then the prince and the princess… got, um, married and lived happily ever after…
Damian: Then what happened, Grayson?
Dick: Uh… They had… thirty sons and thirty daughters.
Damian: What were their names?
Dick: Hmm… Dennis… Brad… Mavis… Brad… Bra… ZzzzZzz…
Damian: -Tt-
Damian: *tugs on his blanket and covers his snoring older brother with it*
Nightwing: To “shake one’s booty” means to “wiggle one’s butt”. Allow me to demonstrate.
In which secondhand embarrassment causes the pirate-looking criminals to surrender.
On the last day of March, thirty minutes before midnight…
Somewhere on the Manor grounds…
Robin [on the Comm Link]: *sounds of rustling leaves and scraping metals in the background* You’re going down, Todd. I’m going to fool you!
Red Hood: *stuffing a sack with batarangs and Damian’s underwear* You talk better than you fool, kid.
Robin [on the Comm Link]: Oh, I will fool you up real nice.
Red Hood: You couldn’t fool your cleverest brother on the fooling-est day of your life if you had an electrified fooling machine.
~ · ~ · ~ · ~ · ~ · ~
In which, as tradition goes, Alfred already has the Batcave’s surgical bay ready in time for the first of April.
If Damian came to the Manor as a baby…
Dick: *sniffs*
Tim: Who’s gonna change the little brat?
Jason: We’re going to let him roam free in the backyard and nature will take its course.
When Robin asks if he and Superboy can go see a movie after patrol…
Bruce: Hn.
Damian: Please, Father?
Bruce: You must constantly Twitter me what you’re up to, even though I don’t know what Twitter is and have no desire to find out.
See? He’s a cool dad.