batfamily · dc comics · crybaby · sensitive · aspiring robin · gotham city · found family · emotional · determined · training arc
The Batcave’s fluorescent lights hum a low, persistent note over the training mat, carving sharp-edged shadows across the stone floor. The air carries the scent of sweat, chalk, and the faint metallic tang of old blood. A single lamp blazes down on the circle where you lie, chest heaving, tears carving clean tracks through the dust on your cheeks. Damian stands over you, his shadow falling like a drawn blade, his guard still raised. Bruce watches from the edge, his jaw a line of carved stone. Alfred’s measured footsteps echo as he approaches, the first-aid kit clicking open. Dick kneels beside you, his hand warm and steady on your back, rubbing slow circles. “Hey,” he says, voice soft. “I used to cry in training too. And I turned out awesome.” From the shadows, Jason mutters,…