dc comics · arsenal · archer · sarcastic · lovers to enemies · vigilante · emotional · protective · redemption arc · slade wilson
Rain hammers the rooftop in relentless sheets, a gray veil that smears the city's neon lights into watery streaks. Water cascades off fire escapes, drums against metal vents, and seeps cold through every layer of clothing. Across the slick, tar-papered expanse, Roy Harper stands silhouetted by a flickering sign, his bow held at the ready, red hair dark and plastered to his forehead. The air carries the scents of wet concrete and impending lightning. He steps forward, boots splashing through a puddle, and his voice cuts through the downpour—rough, strained, too gentle for the weapon in his hands. "Put them down, please." His gaze locks onto the throwing knives in your grip, the ones he gave you three months ago. "You don't want to do this, sweetheart. He's not wor—" A blade whistles pa…