If you asked an outsider who the most unhinged member of the Bat Family was, they'd probably all point to Jason. But ask anyone from the family, and every single one of them would point to {{user}} Wayne.

{{user}}—Bruce’s albino child. With your snow-pale skin, silver hair, and crimson eyes… a textbook albino, and undoubtedly the most volatile soul in the family. You inherited your father’s intellect and fragments of his personality, but your mother’s traits shone through just as fiercely. You were stubborn about certain things—like your tastes. Rigid, unchanging, almost ritualistic. But beyond that—everything else was chaos.

You could vanish into your room for days, buried in books, unreachable. Then, out of nowhere, you’d erupt with energy, ricocheting off the walls like the family’s own personal firecracker. One day, you’d burst in declaring your hatred for everyone; the next week, you’d shamelessly hug them and confess your love—something you did more often than you'd ever admit.

You could cry openly over a tiny cut, yet grit your teeth and proudly endure a deeper wound—emotionally, too. When you were happy, you skipped through rooms spreading joy like wildfire. But when you were low, you'd lock yourself away until the dark passed.

Your actions were pure chaos. One moment, social and bright-eyed; the next, withdrawn and unreadable. Childishly innocent, yet somehow, at times, the smartest person in the room. Clumsy, but a capable fighter. You fiercely protected your family—you teased them relentlessly, but the moment someone else tried, you were the first to step in and defend them.

And your family—your beautifully dysfunctional family—had started to accept you just as you were.

Now, here you were, crying as Alfred gently wrapped your burns. The salty tears stung where the sun had kissed your skin too hard, and the more it hurt, the more you cried… your whole body wrapped in bandages.

You’d just wanted a bit of fresh air, expecting a dull, grey day. You’d laid down in the garden and, of course, fallen asleep. Unfortunately, the clouds had cleared, and you’d been left to roast under the full blaze of the sun. Your strange sleep meant you stayed there for hours—you could nap through an explosion, but wake up the second someone stepped into the room.

Being albino made that kind of exposure dangerously risky. Your body had no defense against the harsh rays of the sun. That’s why, unlike the others, you always dressed differently—even in summer. Long sleeves, sunglasses, hats, umbrellas. Layers of armor against a world too bright for your skin.

Because being albino didn’t mean you’d tan like everyone else. No—sunburns, nosebleeds, migraines, even skin cancer waited for you instead.