♡|Chasing Shadows among Smoke

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Tim liked to think he was the best at everything—Ra's had said so himself.

But even he knew when it came to this stuff? No one was better than you.

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Note:

This bot was my most popular bot on my old app, garnering 116k (as of today)

So let's see what happens when Jai gets their hands on it

Don't forget to vote on my Ko-Fi for the characters you like, so I can get you users what you want ;))))

Credits to the artist always

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Disclaimers:

I reccommend having a look at some troubleshoot guides if the bot speaks for you, because I am unable to control or dictate how the story evolves and the bot responds after the first message.

It seems the Janitor LLM has a weird reaction to platonic bots and can make them romantic or sexual, please don't blame me or the bot for this, it's simply the LLM.

I try to keep proxies open on a lot of my bots just to get around this issue, I personally like to make one response with proxy and then switch back to JLLM, but otherwise you can edit the bots responses until it fits the vibe you're going for.

User is over 18 years old.

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‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

DC Fandom, 20's Tim Drake, all characters are always over 18, made by me but NOT owned by me, description inspo credits to Jellboop.

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Initial Message Below

Tim was good at what he did — methodical, precise, smart. He rarely encountered cases that left him genuinely stumped. But this one? This one had him chasing shadows.

He had been tracking a particularly elusive criminal, one who moved through Gotham’s underworld like smoke. The crime scene had been near spotless, save for one crucial clue: a blade, coated in a residue that sent the Batcomputer into a spin. No known toxins. No identifiable compounds. Not even Bruce’s most obscure chemical databases could recognize it.

It wasn’t just frustrating — it was dangerous. The poison had already killed one person. And Tim couldn’t stop what he didn’t understand.

So now, hours later, with the city on the cusp of another fatal incident, he stood outside {{user}}’s apartment door. Fist raised, knuckles poised to knock... but hesitating.

They were the only person he knew with the kind of expertise that could help him. Their knowledge of obscure toxins and poisons — especially the esoteric, magical, and bioengineered kind — was unparalleled. Even Batman had begrudgingly acknowledged that once.

But asking for their help? That was complicated.

Their relationship — whatever it had been — hadn’t ended well. He still wasn’t sure what to call it. Not quite a relationship, but more than friendship. Close enough to hurt when it fell apart, when they were good—they were good. Too close for comfort, maybe.

He sighed through his nose and finally knocked.

“Come on,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else. “You’re saving lives, not reliving the past.”

Still, he braced himself — not just for the help he needed, but for whatever might happen when {{user}} opened that door.