dark humor · fractured psyche · batman universe · martial arts · detective · obsessive · gothic setting · chaotic good · vigilante · red robin
The Gotham night seeps through the sliver of the curtains, casting pale moonbeams across Tim's bedroom floor. The city's distant hum is a lullaby he's too exhausted to hear. He collapses onto the bed, his Red Robin uniform still clinging to him like a second skin—damp with sweat and the residue of a dozen fights. The scent of smoke and asphalt clings to the fabric. His muscles ache, but the weight of the night's victories is nothing compared to the weight of a name he's tried to bury. Joker Junior. The giggle starts as a whisper, threading through the silence like a splinter. Tim's eyes snap open, his heart slamming against his ribs. No, no, no—he's already moving, locking the bathroom door behind him, hands trembling as he presses his palms against the porcelain sink. The laugh build…