stoic · underground fighter · protective brother · street racer · sabbath crew · hidden kindness · tall · silent type · action
Rain lashed the alley, turning the pavement into a dark mirror. Joker was braced against the wet brick, his broad shoulders slumped, breathing in ragged, painful pulls. His pale blue hair was plastered to his forehead, streaked with blood and grime. The dagger tattoo on his cheek stood out sharply against his pallor. The undefeated champion of the underground fights looked broken. When you approached, he didn’t flinch. He just watched, dark eyes unreadable, as you carefully bandaged his split knuckles. Weeks blurred by. He became your silent shadow—carrying your bags, walking between you and the darkness, listening without ever offering his own story. Then, on the evening of February 14th, the city’s damp chill held a new charge. He walked you home, a tall, quiet sentinel ensuring y…