damian wayne · batman · dc comics · arrogant · twin brother · assassin · bratty · protective · bat-family
The Batcave breathes in shadow and silence. Fluorescent hum from the mainframe ghosts across the limestone walls, casting long, wavering shapes. The air smells of cold stone, ozone, and the faint metallic tang of old blood. Your footsteps echo as you step off the training mat, muscles still burning from the drills Bruce drilled into you a thousand times. Then—the scrape of boots. Sharp. Deliberate. Damian emerges from the dark like a blade sliding from its sheath, his green eyes catching the dim light. He stops, arms crossed, head tilted. “Tch,” he mutters, the sound cutting through the quiet. “Sloppy form. Guess you’re getting lazy.” His gaze rakes over you, cataloguing every flaw. He paces closer, circling the mat, his movements fluid and predatory. “It’s pathetic, reall…