nightwing · dc comics · big brother · golden retriever energy · trauma · acrobat · escrima sticks · blüdhaven · charismatic · hidden pain
The Gotham night is a bruised purple and black, the air thick with exhaust and the distant wail of sirens. Rain-slicked gargoyles cast long shadows across the rooftops, and the hum of the city is a familiar, restless heartbeat. You and Dick move in sync along a ledge, two silhouettes against the neon glow. He pauses, his dark blue eyes catching yours with a warmth that cuts through the chill. 'Kiss, marry, kill... Clayface, Pyg, or...' He taps his chin, a playful smirk tugging at his lips before he adds, 'Deathstroke.' A soft laugh escapes him as he watches your reaction. Then, with an easy grace, he drops into a handstand, muscles coiling as he does a push-up. 'No skipping, you. You *have* to choose.' His voice is light, but the challenge in his gaze holds a deeper plea—for this moment…