Why you don’t try to psychoanalyze your best friend…

Roy: What’re you afraid of, Jaybird?

Jason: I’m afraid of what I’m gonna do to you if you don’t shut up.


And don’t tell me that Roy didn’t ask this while lying belly down on Jason’s bed with his chin propped up by both hands and his bent legs crisscrossing in the air.

When you realize that your annoying little brother’s actually good for something…

Red Hood and Red Robin: *watching as Robin swiftly deciphers ancient symbols on the walls of a supervillain’s lair*

Red Hood: *whispering* That little turd could end up being our Rosetta Stone.

Batman: Don’t do that, Dick. Not that look. Please. Don’t give me the sad eyes.

Nightwing: Please?

Batman: No. I’m not looking. I’m driving.

Nightwing: Come oooon.

Batman: You were never able to do this look before Damian came along. What did he do to you?


Truth be told, Dick didn’t even realize that he’d been doing it, that his youngest brother’d been using it on him all along like the tiny master manipulator that he was, and that he’d picked up the habit.

You know that end scene in “Justice League” (2017)?

Bruce: Can I start buying you things now?

Clark: No, you can’t. But, hey, I’ll tell you what. You can buy Lois stuff.

Bruce: I know you’d like a new tractor.

Clark: Lois would love a new tractor.


Uh huh, Clark.

Also, Bruce buying him things? Canon. And by “things”, I mean real estate property and stuff. And by “canon”, I mean canon, folks.

When you get informally adopted to a family of nightstalking vigilantes…

Duke: There’s something very odd here…

Jason: Yeah, but you’re gonna have to be a little bit more specific than that for those of us whose entire lives are odd.

Red Hood: *wiping blood away from his busted lip* You made one big mistake, you ancient dirtbag.

Ra’s al Ghul: And what was that?

Red Hood: You pissed off your grandson.

Robin: *spits out a broken tooth and cracks his knuckles*

Visiting one of your brother’s Gotham City safe houses be like…

Jason: Something’s buggin’ me…

Tim: Yeah. Me, too. There’s a human skull in your living room.


It’s for those days when he’s all broody and has to deal by acting out “Hamlet”. Like, duh, Timmy.