Finally finding something you’ve lost, only to discover it’s not within your own reach.
//Also the original post no longer exists.
In the interest of sparing me further pain, I would ask those who reblogged it to remove their posts which reference it though I have noted your dissents for reference and have no intention of forcing that as canon on any partners - as my original post stated.
I respect those of you who disagree but right now I don’t have the emotional fortitude to deal with the attacks that have come my way as a result of the unpopular opinion.
//All I’m going to say is:
1 - If either of the nicer anons who hit my askbox in the last 12 hours wish to discuss their concerns off anon, contact me directly. I don’t bite and am willing to discuss this openly with you. Especially if you’re a partner who feels affected by this view (read: any of the Dick Graysons I interact with), I urge you to have the decency to discuss this with me privately so we can iron out any misconceptions regarding how we approach our RP.
2 - Anon is being turned off. The way things have been in my OOC life lately, the last thing I need is even more hate than I’ve already received on this subject being heaped my way because I happen to have an opinion which you don’t share.
We’re supposed to be, if not outright adults, at least possessing the maturity to deal with things without being unkind and hateful.
- Joker: Last Laugh #05
'Robin is dead.'
//And that reply made me melt down.
Y u give me all the feels?
Also almost collapsed due to the heat today at work so it was not a fun day.
For several months, Barbara had watched as she was wont to do in her city. There was a never ending stream of people showing up in capes, wanting to do their work for the city. Many gave up on their first night when confronted with the reality. Others, less fortunate ones, ended their nights in an ER or a morgue.
Noir, the only name Barbara could find for the young woman, was clearly different. She’d not only survived but thrived. Whatever training she had was effective and despite rumors to the contrary, all evidence pointed to a capable operative without official ties to anyone. There was also, as yet, no sign of corruption.
The Bat would soon see her and take a hand in the matter. The young woman clearly did good work and it would be a pity for her to be shut down by the city’s longest serving vigilante.
A phone was dropped by one of the Eyes in front of Noir’s building moments before she emerged. And then it began to ring.
The tinkling of a cellphone caught Noir’s attention as she set foot outside her apartment building’s main entrance. It was dark, a little after sunset, and the smell of an on-coming storm hung heavy in the air. There were people still milling about, so the ringing cellphone didn’t capture her full intention until her gaze fell on a glowing spot on the sidewalk. That was odd. No one else seemed to pay in any mind, which furthered her sudden feeling of trepidation as she descended the steps.
It rung and rung, and rung. She was considering ignoring it and going about her business as usual, but curiosity (and fear) got the better of her and she picked it up. In the glowing screen, she saw the word ‘PRIVATE’ flash across it. Taking a breath, she pressed the ‘send’ button and pressed cool plastic phone against her ear. Her heart gave a pound. ”Hello?”
It fell outside her usual limits. Cell phones were so imprecise, and after the incidents with Helena, she’d kind of avoided using them as a means to contact her operatives. Tonight she counted on Noir’s curiosity to cause her to see what the phone was doing, left ringing outside her stoop.
A scrambled voice replied, the tone masculine courtesy of several filters. “You are Noir, and you are speaking to the Oracle. I want to know precisely what your purpose is here in Gotham. Are you friend…or foe?”