Welcome to Firewall
{ Where Big Sister is always watching... }

An Oracle must see all and know all.

Current major arc: None

Current M!A: None

This blog is an independent RP blog that plays in the Multiverse. Details in Information link located in menu at top right.

Anon & M!A friendly.

Contains NSFW content.

See Info page for Followback/Starter info.

100% Hate Anon Free


LGBTQIA Friendly Blog

evenhisvoicemayberedeemed:

virtualbatgirl:

She really didn’t have the first clue what to make of it. It was as though this guy was responding to a vague distress call that was never sent. Never would Barbara admit that she was, in fact, troubled. It remained trapped within, only expressing itself in rare and uncontrollable outbursts.

"I don’t find that religion has much to do with my life, and my philosophies are somewhat firmly entrenched at this stage of the game. You’re right, though. I’m trapped in a way. Trapped by fear more than anything, and secondly by a longing to have back what I wanted. I’m angry, too. The man who shot me is too much of a nutcase to even understand what he did was wrong. I was a means to manipulate a man who would, in turn, be used to manipulate another man." She wasn’t open, and yet the words streamed out of her. The effect this person had was unnerving. She was willingly going deep into the mouth of the lion by facing these things that had been steadfastly ignored and glossed over during therapy.

And yet the words continued to flow. “I think that might be what pisses me off the most, but it’s everything. I didn’t have a choice of whether to continue or not. That choice was taken away from me by a man who considered me little more than a comedic prop  And then, my mentor laughs at the joke. I spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair and everyone gets a good chuckle. Then they start stealing pieces of who I was like I was never those things…”

Her glasses were thrown angrily into a corner of the desk and a hand covered her face, contorted in pain, in something like shame in her strong emotions.

"You are still young. One’s philosophies can change many times over their life; what appears firmly entrenched now appears barely secured later. As for religion, you may find that the notions of what you take to be religion; that of dogma, hypocrisy, and vague promises; are not the part that I speak of. Religion is more than the pulpit and the chuck, the mosque and the imam. Religion is more than hatred, more than hope, more than misdirection and argument. But in the end, it is why philosophy and religion are both important. For the concepts of ethos, pathos, and logos are all important." 

He listened to her words, listened she spoke what her song was made of. It was a sad song, but it was not unlike his own song. “You wish to be taken seriously. You wish to be seen as someone worth being taken seriously. You are angry, because of what happened to you. It took your legs, but in your mind it took something more than anything physical. It took your dignity. And for what? A game played between others. A game played by people who didn’t, and still don’t, treat you as a pawn. As a given.” 

"And here you sit. Trapped in your tower, grasping in the dark to find something to cling to. You could sink down into hate and rage, but you know that would end poorly and not make you feel better. You could fall into sorrow, but you know that particular road leads nowhere. You want to focus on yourself, but you cannot because everyone else starts taking those things from you, and you fear that your prison will, in time, reduce you to nothing in the minds of others." 

He stood, and walked over to pick up her glasses, and offer them to her again. “I said when I first entered, that I cannot restore your legs. But perhaps I can give you something. Perhaps, in time, I can help you find a purpose, something that no one can take away from you, or belittle.” 

"I have a purpose," she snapped, taking her glasses back from his hand. "You said it yourself. I cloister myself here like some rogue priestess, giving wisdom or at the very least intelligence to the heroes of my time. It is the only way I have left to fight."

He had her pegged so easily that she was unnerved by it. This man, this visitor had just shown up and basically given her a reasonably accurate assessment of her psyche, including those parts she kept hidden away.

Less accurate was his pronouncement that she feared being reduced to nothing. That wasn’t perfectly accurate. She felt that she was in a prison not of her own making, but of Joker’s. It was because of him she’d been confined to a wheelchair. Enduring legacies were the last of her worries. She wanted two things in life; to do good for others, live honorably, and to be important to someone.

The work gave her that, but once the work was put away there were a few nights that were difficult to face. On those nights the most terrifying nightmares haunted her.

"Nobody’s taking away what I do," she added as an afterthought. "And for the record, nobody dares belittle what Oracle can do."

Barbara, however, was a different matter entirely. And therein was the crux of the problem. She had two distinct selves in her own mind which compartmentalized everything in order to allow herself a certain freedom. The woman was damaged, hurt, and lonely. The Oracle was strong and had something important to offer.

escrimasticks:

virtualbatgirl:

[Text] New background on my phone. Wait til I tell my Dad it’s a Dick pic. Hee!

[text] I'm going to have to leave town.

[Text] Good thing we’re going back to Chicago then.

[Text] Don’t worry. After he has his heart attack I’ll tell him it’s totally SFW.

escrimasticks:

virtualbatgirl:

She got out, a little surprised that he was being so solicitous. “How’m I feeling? Fine, and I can get us there no problem. But I’m probably going to crash for a few hours when we get there,” she said. “We’re maybe a half hour out, so not far.”

Like a sapling, she reached upward to decompress muscles tight from sitting for so long. It was with all the grace of the ballerina she’d once been that she walked, continuing to stretch even as she went.

"We can fill our faces, and you can crash with me or do your own errands when we get to town. I figure, maybe around noon I’ll wander out and make my own visits. To Dad and…well, yeah, tie up loose ends." The closer they got to Gotham, the more real it seemed. Barbara leaned into Dick’s side and took refuge beneath his arm as they entered the restaurant.

      He automatically slid his arm around her waist when she leaned into him, fitting perfectly at his side like two pieces of a puzzle. Such a simple gesture and it had him smiling that goofy smile he got when he was content.
     “I’ve slept enough for now. I might head over to Wayne Manor and do what needs to be done there, like say hello to Alfred, pay my respects to Damian and then go see Bruce.” He gave her a squeeze against him, “I’m not sure how long it will take, but just call me when you’re ready to leave.”

    Breakfast was over soon enough and they were back on the road again, crossing the main bridge into the inner city and toward Cherry Hill, where Babs would need to pack her things. “Need some help getting your things packed? I can organise a pick up truck to get your furniture and what not?”

With a shake of her head, she declined his suggestion of getting a truck for the drive out. “Nah. I don’t have much in the way of furniture. My bed, that’s about it, and it’d be more expensive to take it than to leave it. Alysia said she’d sell it for me and send the proceeds on MoneyBuddy. It’s the other stuff. Clothes, photos, the other stuff.”

The van pulled up in front of Barbara’s building. She got out, and passed Dick the keys. “Here. You can drive it for the day. I figure I get a few hours sleep, go deal with things, and then I can pack. We can spend the night here before we go back, unless you need to rush back?”

imagineyourotp:

Imagine your OTP lying next to each other in bed, staring at the ceiling, embarrassed and slightly alarmed by the wild, intense, filthy sex they just had.

Another Day, Another Empty Clip

nodeathonlyjustice:

virtualbatgirl:

-

She hadn’t even really noticed the flirtation. It was simply Jason’s way. He had been that way for a long time. The ability to go from full on flirt to abashed boy was endearing. His evident care for others, especially vulnerable women and children was proof positive that he was worth the occasional annoyance, to say nothing of the grief she put up with for working with him.

"I’m glad you can follow instructions," she replied quietly. "Go home. Go to bed. Get some rest. Play video games. Whatever it takes. I should have the intel together in four days."

"Then we can strike."

Jason laughed as he approached the door. If this would take four days, he could use that opportunity to give his neighborhood a more thorough patrol and check up on some problematic individuals. Nothing lethal, of course—he wasn’t that stupid.

"Just call me when we’re ready to go then," he said, flicking his wrist in a lazy wave. Sparing her one last glance, he added, "G’night." 

~fin~

escrimasticks:

virtualbatgirl:

[Text] I approve. I love that wicked grin of yours.

[text] Phew. I was a bit nervous about sending that.

[Text] New background on my phone. Wait til I tell my Dad it’s a Dick pic. Hee!

Another Day, Another Empty Clip

nodeathonlyjustice:

virtualbatgirl:

"I’m not inviting you for a sleepover. Bunk beds or not," she reminded him. "It’s therapeutic massage. Haven’t you heard of such a thing?"

Waving him away, she added, “I don’t want you sticking your nose in before it’s go-time. Right now I’m trying to confirm the locations of all his holding pens. If we don’t have that figured out, we can’t terminate that operation. Strategy. And he has to survive. He has to live to become a joke. That’s what I want.”

This was only one of the operations on her radar. Once they were done with the Irish, Barbara intended that they go after the men who brought women in via shipping container to give ten dollar hand jobs in massage parlors located throughout the city.

"Until it’s go-time, I want you to lay low. Don’t go hunting for information. If they get even a hint that we’re coming we’ll never get our hands on those kids, alright? So relax. And if you don’t, I’ll come over and knock you out so don’t push it," she instructed him firmly.

Jason rolled his eyes as he drummed his fingers against the counter. The massages he’d heard about on his street had involved far less clothing than Barbara had in mind, but he knew legitimate versions existed.

Since the flirting had served its purpose already, Jason moved on. “Of course I’ve heard of therapeutic massages. I just don’t need one is all. I’m fine.” His bemused expression shifted to a sheepish one as he added, “But uh, thanks. For offering.”

He nodded along as she explained her strategy. Thorough and promising as always. Once she was done, he stepped away from the counter. “I can be patient, y’know,” he argued. With lives on the line, he couldn’t afford not to be. “You won’t need to knock me out, Babs. If we don’t get those kids, we’re sentencing them to spend the rest of their lives in hell, so whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it, and if you want him to be a joke, he’ll be a joke.”

She hadn’t even really noticed the flirtation. It was simply Jason’s way. He had been that way for a long time. The ability to go from full on flirt to abashed boy was endearing. His evident care for others, especially vulnerable women and children was proof positive that he was worth the occasional annoyance, to say nothing of the grief she put up with for working with him.

"I’m glad you can follow instructions," she replied quietly. "Go home. Go to bed. Get some rest. Play video games. Whatever it takes. I should have the intel together in four days."

"Then we can strike."

escrimasticks:

virtualbatgirl:

As the pair crossed the country, Barbara took it upon herself to keep watch over Dick. He was sleeping at a time that most people actually slept. Tenderly, she would smile at the sight and how easily it all came about. Things had never been this easy between them before.

Maybe we just needed to wait for the right time.

The rest of the drive was fairly uneventful. At five in the morning, they approached the suburbs surrounding Gotham. Twenty minutes out of the city center, she found a place to stop for breakfast.

After pulling into the parking lot which was nearly devoid of cars, though a number of large transports were lined up behind the building, she gently shook Dick’s arm. “Rise and shine, Rip van Winkle. Time for your daily dose of cereal.”

     Dick jumped slightly from the sudden awakening, but quickly settled as his mind was quick to remind him where he was and who he was with. Offering her a sleepy smile, he set the seat upright and stifled a yawn against his fist. “Mm, where are we?” Looking out the windows, it didn’t take him long to figure that out either. “— Oh. We’re here.” He turned back to her, removed his seat belt and opened the door. Stepping around the vehicle, he did the same for her.
     “How’re you feeling? Do you need me to drive the rest of the way in?”

She got out, a little surprised that he was being so solicitous. “How’m I feeling? Fine, and I can get us there no problem. But I’m probably going to crash for a few hours when we get there,” she said. “We’re maybe a half hour out, so not far.”

Like a sapling, she reached upward to decompress muscles tight from sitting for so long. It was with all the grace of the ballerina she’d once been that she walked, continuing to stretch even as she went.

"We can fill our faces, and you can crash with me or do your own errands when we get to town. I figure, maybe around noon I’ll wander out and make my own visits. To Dad and…well, yeah, tie up loose ends." The closer they got to Gotham, the more real it seemed. Barbara leaned into Dick’s side and took refuge beneath his arm as they entered the restaurant.