Laughter hadn’t died down in the Batcave.37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPpGbpZTnz2
Damian sat stiffly, face stone-cold, eyes glazed over as if he were slowly detaching from reality. The words still echoed in his head—"Damian, my grandson."37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPuac1PgJ0I
"My grandson" hit him like a lightning bolt, right in the heart of the most difficult Wayne boy.
But it wasn’t over yet.
Karma struck faster and harder than expected.
In the video, the two girls standing beside Grandma exchanged a glance—and then, as if some ancient seal had been broken, chaos erupted.
The first girl puffed out her chest and loudly declared:
"I’m Nightwing’s wife! His butt is under my personal protection!"
The camera shifted. Her face was so serious it left no room for doubt. Her voice even carried a touch of sentimentality.
The Batcave exploded.
"Wait—WHAT did she say?! WHICH part?!"
"Hold on hold on hold on, my butt is NOT under anyone’s protection!!"
Dick blushed all the way to his ears and instantly turned to Tim. "Can we cut that part? Can we NOT record that?!"
Tim looked like he was about to faint. "This DVD is going straight into my future blackmail archive… Please, fast forward..."
Then the second girl stepped forward, cool and composed, with an air of pride:
"I’m 'Two-Barrel Mom.'"
Her tone shifted, as if she were shouldering the fate of an entire Gotham orphanage:
"The motherly love he lacked—I’ll make up for it."
Jason spat his coffee everywhere, nearly soaking the entire workstation.
"Wait, WHAT THE HELL—who’s Two-Barrel—no, wait, whose mom are you?!"
Dick was rolling on the floor laughing. "Bro... bro officially has a mom now..."
Even Alfred had to turn away, chuckling silently and pretending he hadn't heard anything.
And just as everyone was still recovering from the shock of the "Butt Protection Squad" and the "Motherly Love Supply Unit"...
The third girl finally spoke.
She had been standing quietly the whole time, but now she raised her hand.
"My one true love... is Bruce."
The room fell into stunned silence.
Then she continued:
"I will forever stand by him."
Her voice was calm, her eyes steady, as if reciting some ancient vow. No dramatics. No exaggeration. Just raw, unwavering devotion.
The entire Batcave fell still.
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After dropping their bombshell introductions and nuking the entire Batcave emotionally, the group of girls turned simultaneously toward the only person who hadn’t yet "declared loyalty."
Nora.
"Noraaaa~~"37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUdhP70T4JO
"Come on, come on, say it!"37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbeJzwlgIl3
"Who do you like?"37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSJVcbPn7sV
"Pick one!! You MUST have a favorite!"37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtsYU3sZPMC
"You can’t NOT ship someone! It’s common knowledge!"
The Batfam stared, stunned.
"Wait, what kind of poll already started without our knowledge?!"
Tim clasped his hands in front of his face, muttering: "I'm... genuinely scared to hear the answer right now..."
At that moment, the serious girl who had declared herself Damian’s grandma suddenly whipped out a massive poster and smacked it onto the round table.
It was a wide-angle group illustration.
Every single Robin in history, plus Batman.
They stood in neat formation, costume designs ranging from classic to battle-worn. Some were mid-leap, others posed dramatically while turning toward the horizon. It looked straight out of an official artbook.
Nora stepped closer, gazing down.
"Whoa... there are so many Robins?" she asked, a bit stunned. "How do you even tell them apart?"
Bruce, from the real Batcave, nodded solemnly. "Good question."
But before anyone could answer, the self-proclaimed Nightwing’s wife slammed the table, chest puffed up in pride:
"I am—The! Bird! Master!"
She glared around dramatically. "Ask me anything."
Her finger glided across the poster, speaking like a battle-hardened bard:
"This one flipping three times mid-air before landing in a pose? That’s the eldest, Dick. Gymnastics off the charts, butt certified national treasure.
This one with a book in hand but a face that says 'Interrupt me and I punch you'? Second son Jason. Reads, sure, but prefers solving things with fists.
This one—"
Her finger curled. "This one's got 'Life is a riddle' written in his eyes. That’s third son Tim. Signature traits: youthful aura, always staring out windows, occasional existential dread."
She moved to the far right: "And this one—short, sharp-eyed, posing like he’s about to bite someone—"
Before she could finish, Grandma Damian exploded:
"Hey! Damian is a BABY! You can’t just call him short!"
Nightwing’s wife: "...But he hasn’t hit his growth spurt yet in the video?"
Grandma crossed her arms, huffing: "Just wait! He’ll be 6 foot 3 in the future!"
Tim was already half under the desk. "This scene is too crazy... I wasn’t meant to witness this with my mortal eyes..."
Dick was face-down on the table from laughing. "Hold on... when did my butt become a world heritage site?!"37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDaxu31xoHQ
Jason: "Where can I file a return request for this 'Motherly Love Care Package'?"
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The girls in the video were still arguing over which Robin was the most worthy of love, whose gear looked the coolest, and whose expression held the most emotional depth.
Their mouths never stopped, but their eyes—all of them—kept sneaking glances at Nora.
Because the real moment, the one they were all waiting for, was just about to begin.
They weren’t here for introductions.37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxj2N22UdTq
They were here for the vote.
Nora stood in front of the poster. Her face showed no smile, no shyness—just calm, focused attention as she stared at the grand lineup of the entire Bat-family’s boy-wonder legacy.
Then—
She lifted her hand and extended a finger.
The frame froze.
Everyone held their breath.
Her fingertip hovered in the air for a beat, as if double-checking.
And then, without hesitation, she tapped directly on Tim Drake’s head.
The Batcave, all at once:
"...!!???"
Barbara: "Whoa... she actually picked Tim?"37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSgL5x4Bl8Y
Leila turned toward her little brother, a slow smirk forming.37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaJzlI8xN4H
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Back in the video, the three girls nearly fell over from shock.
Nightwing’s wife: "Timmy-bird???"
She stared down at the poster, her tone suddenly far more serious: "Can I ask why? I mean, it’s not that Tim’s bad, but... you know, he’s the type who’s usually spiraling into some existential crisis on camera."
The air paused.
Then, from the side, Becca spoke up with eerie calm, like unveiling a cosmic truth:
"Don’t bother asking her."
Everyone turned to look at her.
She sighed, placed her hands on her hips, and shrugged:
"She’s just got a thing for glasses. Flip through that whole lineup—Tim’s the only one who’s ever worn them."
In the Batcave—
Tim froze in place.
His face turned red.
No—more accurately, his entire face ignited, burning from his ears to the base of his neck like an overheating motherboard.
Jason was punching the wall with laughter: "Bro! Congrats! You won by myopia!"
Dick slumped halfway off the couch: "I lost. Fair and square."
Damian: "I’m getting LASIK. I refuse to win affection with glasses."
Tim buried his face in his hands and mumbled, "I need to reboot... I have to reboot..."
But the corners of his mouth? They were betraying him—curving upward all on their own.
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and then Add to home screen.