[𝙳𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝙺𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝]

Last Login:
February 17th, 2020

Gender: Female
Status: In a relationship
Age: 27
Country: United States

Signup Date:
August 14, 2018



11/01/2019 08:23 PM 

Spook Night Patrol: Drabble

attention: | mentions:Spook Night Patrolwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
She didn't, strictly speaking, lie to her friends about her plans for Halloween night.
Her mermaid costume had its work out already, with a party she forced on the family earlier in the month, and her night was going to be spent doing 'family' stuff.
Which just so happened to mean patrol.
But Steph loved patrol on Halloween.
You'd think the rogues would be worse, but she always found them to lay low, probably because the Bat had gotten a little more… aggressive? with the kiddlywinks out and about. More protective.
Steph got that. She did too. Which is partially why she loved patrol so much on spook night.
She may or may not have blown money she didn't exactly have on a bunch of candy, but by God, Batgirl was gonna be a candy fairy tonight.
But first, she had to make sure the Brown house left the offerings for the neighborhood kids while the house was empty.
On the stoop, next to the Jack-o-lantern she found time to carve, a plastic bowl, with a note taped to it: 'Have a good night!'
No 'Take one', no 'please share', Steph knew kids well enough to know that they should. And if they didn't, well. Not much she could do about it.
Batgirl couldn't be everywhere.
"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
The energy in Gotham on Halloween was always something that had to be felt for oneself. People were usually tense about something. The next 'big thing', when something crazy would happen, but on this night, they were the 'crazy ones' in masks, the nervous energy turned to excitement, a buzz that filled the air, and Steph lived for it.
Sure, she could just not patrol, and go off, join the parties, enjoy the relatively maintained chaos, but, well, she enjoyed what she did. Being there, just in case, traveling across the city and seeing all the costumes, all the setups, and being the candy fairy.
Group of kids not getting a response at a door or a building she was on? Batgirl would drop them some candy.
Guy crying on a stoop about his stupid boyfriend in the party? Have some candy, and a cape to cry into for a few minutes. (It wasn't like patrol was busy, after all)
Girl throwing up in an alley from partying a little too hard? Maybe some of this candy was mint? Let me hold your hair, you're gonna be sick again, I can see it, it's gonna be ok. Let it out. Watch your shoes.
The music from the different parties was always great, saved O, Proxy and anyone else that would have been on comms from dealing with Radio Batgirl, she may or may not have been spotted dancing on rooftops throughout the night.
By the time the sun was rising, and Gotham was winding down, settling into November first, Batgirl sat and watched the parade of people returning home, sipping her coffee exchanged for the last of her candy bars in her belt in the Starbucks (not that Bats needed to pay for coffee, but she wanted to give the poor doll with the cute pumpkin headband missing out on the festivities something for the night) taking in the last few moments of peace before the insanity that Thanksgiving and Christmas season brought Gotham.
"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

10/29/2019 09:34 PM 

Haunted House: Drabble

attention: | mentions: Haunted Housewww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
"Hey, Freakazoid."

Steph looked up from her pile of notes, pen in hand, in time to see Jordanna let go of the empty water bottle, followed by Francisco, and Michael.
The gang was all here, apparently.
Catching it with a raised brow, she sat it down neatly next to where her paper coffee cup sat, before taking the coffee to her lips.

"What's up?"

Frowning at her 'prank' being foiled by reaction times, Jordanna leant over Stephs notes, glancing down at them.

"You need a break. They turned the dorms into a haunted house, you're coming with us. I'm not taking no for an answer, Brown."

Sighing into her mostly empty coffee, Stephanie looked between the boys, silently reading their faces, then back to Jordanna, before stacking her notes and starting to put them away.

"One, you should accept people saying no, Jor. Two, these two are scared too, and you want more back up, is what I'm hearing."

With the silence that hung between then all, Steph shook her head slightly, grinning to herself, getting to her feet.

"Alright, alright, let's go…"

"Wait, really?!"

Jordanna seemed genuinely surprised. Steph simply nodded her head, and shifted her book bag to her shoulder, catching the appreciative glance shared between Michael and Francisco. Clapping them both on the shoulders as she started to lead them from her once secluded study corner of the campus diner, she nudged Jordanna.

"I didn't take you for a scardy cat, Jor."

"I'm not scared! I just-"

"It's alright to be scared, Jordanna. I don't like haunted houses much, if I'm being honest.

"So why did you agree…?"

By now, the girls had gotten a little ways ahead of the boys.

"Other than you not taking no for an answer?"

She raised a brow, deadpanning Jordanna, who shoved her in response.

"I'm being serious."

Stephanie shrugged a shoulder, tucking her hands into her pockets.

"I really did need a break. And I wouldn't mind seeing what people consider scary now."

Jordanna eyed her curiously as the boys jogged to catch up, Michael draping an arm over them both.

"Ok, but, enquiring minds need to know, ladies, what are the plans for Halloween."

Jordanna acts first, shoving his arm off with a huff, reflexively moving towards Francisco.

"Probably the harvest festival, like usual. And Old Lady Brown there will probably stay in and study, like she has been doing every time I call her."

Steph's elbow caught Michael in the ribs, but she didn't miss a beat otherwise.

"I love Halloween. The costumes, the parties, everyone getting to be someone else for a night? Greatest time of the year. I've got my costume ready, and a family thing to go to."

She was hit with two questions simultaneously; Michael and Francisco

"What costume?"

"When you say family, you mean boyfriends family right?"

"A mermaid, and yes. Assume whenever I say family, it means the Wayne's, alright?"

Jordanna swats Steph on the arm.

"About time you came out and said it. When are we invited?!"

Steph instead pushed into the dorm building, which was all done up, actually quite well, for Halloween.

"Oh hey look, how spooky, we're here!"

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Jordanna scowled at her as she lead them through the first set of rooms, but as the first 'scare actor' jumped out, and made three of the four yelp in fright, the brushed off question forgotten.
Steph continued leading them through the halls and done up rooms, each with a different theme, zombies, mummies, vampires, generic monsters, all eliciting an eyeroll from Stephanie, who had, at some point or another, had a run in with most of the beings, for realsies.
The life of a Bat was weird sometimes.
The higher through the dorm they went, the less hokey the 'scare rooms' got, some even done up like in the theme of some of the Gotham Rogues.
Looking into the Scarecrow room, and the others made disgusted sounded, Steph spoke up brightly, looking over her shoulder, offering her other arm to Jordanna for the umpteenth time, after 'Doctor Crane' jumped out at them, to get feeling back in her hand for a bit.

"You know he went to this school? Some of his notes might still be around here somewhere…"

Francisco blanched.

"Don't even joke. That's not funny, Steph."

"I never joke. I'm not a funny person…"

Backing out of the room, 'Scarecrow' cackling behind them, she lead them to the next room, one with a black skull mask on the door.
Her stomach immediately dropped, but she pushed on. Slowly turning the door handle, she then nudged the door open with a finger, and tightened her jaw.
Stephanie Brown wasn't an idiot, contrary to popular belief, and her gut instinct was usually on the money.
This 'fear room display' was indeed Black Mask, complete with fear actors, 'Roman', and victim, being tortured.

"That's just messed up…"

Michael says from behind her, as Steph has to remind herself where she is.

"That's what Black Mask does. You should see what he does with a power drill..."

She mutters, trailing off, shutting the door with more force than she intended, before leading them back to finish the house, focusing on Jordannas nails in her arm.
It took a few rooms for Steph to realise her shoulders were still tensed.
By the time they were back down to the goofy scares, with Corpse Brides, and sheet ghosts with glasses, Steph had eased up, mostly.
Back outside in the brisk, fall air, the others flushed, adrenaline filled, giggling messes, she smiled faintly at them.

"Have fun?" Jordanna grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.

"How messed up did your dad make you?! You didn't even jump once!"

Francisco ran his hands through his hair and laughed nervously.

"I wish I was that stoic! That's so cool. You don't get scared at all?"

"Oh, no, I get scared. I get scared a lot. Stuff in there spooked me. I just learnt a long time ago to not react to it. Because-"

"Because your dad messed you up!"

Jordanna shook her again, causing her to finally crack a grin, letting the shaking throw her around exaggeratedly.

"Something like that."

"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

10/24/2019 05:57 PM 

Philosophy Crunch: Drabble

attention: | mentions: Philosophy Crunchwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
Staring at the massive holographic interface that was the monitor for the system in the Firewall, Stephanie shifted her weight for what felt like the millionth time that night, putting her elbows on the console, chin in her hands as she stared up at the open case files, on Cluemaster, Riddler, and the one started on Spoiler.
Behind her, Wendy Harris - Proxy - gently nudged her calves with the foot wells of her wheelchair.

"If you're not going to actually be using anything else there, pull your files and move it, you're in my spot."

With a few deft flicks of her hand, the files were closed, and she moved away from the station, but not before flicking her cape over the former Titans head, letting her flail momentarily as her dragged it away as she walked to her 'rang station, absently fiddling with cartridges.

"My bad. Just trying to look into some stuff."

Wendy snorted a laugh, shaking her head, busy swiping through the caseload they had to finish, trying to track people, all that Oracle-y goodness.

"Blondie, you should know that stuff inside and out."

Frowning as she started stacking a flame, goop and shock cartridge together, Stephanie sighed.

"I guess. I just thought maybe someone else's perspective would help, maybe."

"Help with what, though? Has your dad escaped or something, and you just haven't told anyone?"

"NO! God no. I'm pretty sure Bats would know before me anyway if he did. No I was-"

She pauses to sigh dejectedly, putting the mega 'rang cartridge down for mass reproduction by the table in a minute.

"-trying to find out a way to write my damn philosophy paper. Why is philosophy even a requirement?!"

Throwing her hands up in frustration, as Wendy looks over her shoulder at her.

"You were using one of the most high tech supercomputers in existence, and the private case files of the worlds greatest detective to try to help you with your homework."

"Listen. When you put it that way-"

"Stephanie… what is the paper even meant to be about?"

"I-oh. 'What makes you, you'. It's so damn stupid."

"And when is it due?"

"..... 10am."

Wendy sighed heavily and rolled her eyes slowly, turning back to the monitor, returning to the swiping.

"How have you not flunked out yet?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. I just honestly have no idea how to attack this one. I hate philosophy so much."

"You only hate it because it makes you think about you, instead of everyone else, which is what you'd prefer to do."

"No sh*t, Sherlock, if it was an elective, I would have transferred to humanities or something. I’ll figure it out."

"How about. You actually think about what you would say to someone else in your exact position to build them up, and go from there."

Frowning at Proxys words, Batgirl made her leave from the Firewall, to do the thing all college kids do at one point or another.
Last minute assessment work.
Changing from her suit to some sweats and a shirt she didn't immediately recognise, probably one of Tim's that she stole at some point or another, he could get it back later, she splayed across her bed on her stomach, flipped open the laptop that had definitely seen better days, and began to type.

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Asking people to define themselves is a difficult task.
Not everyone wants to answer that they're a good person, even. Especially in a city like Gotham.
There are people in this city that relish the fact they can answer 'Are you a good person' with a resounding 'No', and will walk away with their chests out, heads held high.
My very own father is one of these people.
For the longest time, I was terrified him not being a good person was going to mean I couldn't be a good person. That being a bad person was some sort of genetic condition.
Then I learnt my uncle was a bad person, as well as my dad's friends, and I began to think that it was the city. That Gotham made people bad.
When bad things happened to me, and I was filled with nothing but fear and anger almost all the time, I was so convinced I was going to be a bad person, like my dad, like my uncle, like their friends.
Then all it took was a few good people to show me that it's not genetic, or the city. It's choices.
I have since realised that people in Gotham just make made choices, for some reasons often out of their control.
Your choices define whether you're a good or bad person.
You aren't the mistakes you make along the way. The only variable you can control is yourself.
You can try to run from your past and start fresh, try to forget who you are, or you can be who you want to be.
Ultimately, you cannot simply be defined.
You are who you choose to be.
But since this is about asking for what makes me, me;
I am Stephanie Brown, daughter of Arthur and Crystal, mother at fourteen, died at sixteen, premed student, mistake maker, consequence taker, a get knocked down, keep getting back up, always see the silver lining kind of gal.
My father may answer the question with a proud 'No', but I can drown his 'No' out with a louder, prouder, 'Yes'.
What defines me, is my less than stellar birth family, my upbringing, my experiences, my choices, and my new family, whether we like it or not.
"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

10/14/2019 12:09 PM 

Unsinkable: Drabble

attention: | mentions: Unsinkablewww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
Steph didn't spend a lot of time in the Batcave these days.
She didn't need to, what with the Firewall.
But the cave also made her feel… inadequate.
She sees the cases, everyone else's case, and is reminded that she's just reserve grade.
Not real Bat Family.

'You have to retire, be murdered become someone else, or be shot to have a case'

That was what Babs said when Stephanie was looking at the cases, at the suits in the cases, when she was trying to establish herself as Batgirl.
But of course she didn't have a case.
Her murder didn't count. Why would it?
She was revived with medicine, and skill, not mysticism.
She recovered with time, and pain, not a dip in a pit that cured all her issues, and brought her out stronger.
No, no, of course it didn't count.
Just like her being Robin.

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
That never counted either. She knew it. They all knew it. Give it enough time, and she wouldn't count as Batgirl either. And Spoiler? Pssh. Who the heck is that?
Cluemasters kid? Who's that? Sounds like a Riddler wanna be. She had already heard it all. She grew up with it.
Spoiler never counted. So why would Spoiler have a case when she moved on to bigger and better things.
The times she had been shot didn't count for a case either. Why would they? She could still walk, after all. And even if she couldn't, it would only be Steph.
What would they be losing?
Nothing they didn't immediately move on from once before anyway.
No. No she will stay over here. In the nice, brightly lit Firewall, where her inadequacies can eat her up inside, without physical representations, thank you very much.
At least over here she could try to focus, to clear her head, to work on what mattered.
They might not have always considered Batfamily, but while she had a cape, the city did. And Gotham was what mattered.
You don't give up on her, she won't give up on you, as Nell told her. Words that truly stuck with her.
She may not have been a real Robin, or even a very good Batgirl, but she had learnt how to be a pretty damn good Stephanie Brown.
And that meant something to her, damnit.
"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

10/14/2019 06:01 PM 

Benny and the Jets: Drabble

attention: | mentions: Benny and the Jetswww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
It had been calling to her for weeks. No. Months now.
The blasted ivory toothed menace, sitting in one of the ballrooms.
They were going to do this dance again.
She had felt the itch to play again creeping up on her for a while now, her fingers absently pressing non existent keys, her feet pressing down pedals that weren't there when ever she sat still for too long.
But this time.
Oh this time, she had a plan of attack.
Waiting for the perfect moment to strike, making sure the manor was clear of all occupants, that the likelihood of a repeat of last time wasn't going to happen, she slowly slipped across to the bench.
Playing a few scales, grinning to herself, she stopped, listened, waited.
So fair, so good.
No sneaky butlers.
"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Last time, Stephanie didn't know what she was going to play. She struggled to remember anything. But this time she had spent the last several weeks learning a song by ear. It was in her head. She was ready for this. It was her time.
Her time for herself.
On top of her moment to play again, she was going to let loose and sing.
And not her purposely annoy everyone on patrol singing either.

Hey kids, shake it loose together
The spotlight's hitting something
That's been known to change the weather
We'll kill the fatted calf tonight
So stick around~

As she sung and played for herself, swaying in time to the beat, her voice travelling through a not as quite as empty as she would have hoped manor.
Letting the last note linger she hung her head back, a smile on her lips, pleased with herself.
That was, until, the polite applause started, causing her to leap to her feet, knocking the stool over, and whirl around to face Alfred.
Of course it was Alfred.


"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

10/04/2019 12:53 PM 

TBT: First Piece. Ever.

attention: | mentions: TBT: First Steph Piece. Ever. www.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
Many things roamed Gotham’s streets in the darkness, this night was no different. Crouched low on the corner of a roof, she wondered, not for the first time, if maybe she picked a bad colour to wear.
Before she could even begin that conversation with herself, she saw him. Yellow cape, red chest, green gloves, she giggled to herself slightly.

‘And I picked a bad costume….’

She thought, watching the young detective. He had followed her clues to her fathers new base. She had hoped the Dark Knight would come himself, but ‘the Cluemaster’ was probably low on his list. A minor annoyance. What with the big ones still running around.
Watching Robin, she decided it was good that he was there. At least someone was going to stop him.
Shifting slightly, rubbing her foot to stop the pins and needles that had been forming, she wondered how long she had been squatting there. An hour? Maybe two? Hard to tell.
While she was adjusting her footing, Robin had slipped into the building, dragged Cluemaster out by his collar and down the alley towards where he always ended up. The police station.
Standing up and stretching herself to her 5 foot, 5 inch height she raised her arms over her head and let out a soft groan.

‘I wonder what excuse for not being home in the morning I’ll get this time…’

She thought to herself.
Her father, the criminal.

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Shaking her head, she started towards the fire escape when she heard a voice.

“Do you spend all your time of roofs?”

Jumping slightly, she whirled around, finding Robin standing on the other side of the roof. Blushing furiously, she mentally congratulated herself for having her hood up, then quickly got angry at herself. How did he know she was there? And better yet, how did her creep up on her.

“Come on Spoiler, we know how this works. You leave clues to Cluemaster, someone follows them, he gets stopped, you slip away…”

He grinned, and she blushed deeper.

‘Damn him. Being so… Cute…. Focus!’

She snapped at herself, then cleared her throat and tried to sound casual.

“Yeah, well, I just wanted to make sure you did the job…”

‘Thats great Stephanie, sound like a bitch. That will totally help you…’ She clenched her jaw at herself under the hood, balling her gloved hands up. Seeing her fists tighten, Robin raised his hands

“Easy, not gonna fight you. I was…”

He stops, scratching the back of his head


He sighs

“You can’t do this. You’ll get yourself hurt, or killed…. No one wants that…”

His voice was soft, and Spoiler frowned a hidden frown.

“You do it.”

She says softly, causing Robin to shake his head

“I have the training… I’ve seen how you get around Spoiler… You don’t… What if someone wanted to hurt you. You couldn’t stop them….”

She tilted her head slightly. Was he worried about her? Just last month after leaving the clues to her father he called her a nuisance. But this? Was this concern?
Taking several steps over to her, Robin stopped again, as if torn by something. Before he could say anything, she spoke.

“Maybe you could train me…?”

"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

10/04/2019 04:09 PM 

An Invitation: Drabble

attention: | mentions: An Invitationwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
A second letter.
An invitation to meet with Lea and her mother in Metropolis.
Steph and screamed, and cried, and jumped up and down on the furniture when she read the letter.
She didn't even react like that when she got her college acceptance letter, and that was still pinned to her wall.
She was going to see her.
See Lea, her little baby girl, for the first time. EVER.
She hadn't seen the baby during, or after the emergency cesarean delivery, elected not to after it, when she came back to consciousness, believing, rightly, it would be much too difficult to go through with giving her up for adoption.
Stephanie didn't even know the baby was a girl until a little later, when Tim accidentally told her.
Tim, who had been there for her, almost the entire time, when he really didn't have to be.

'Oh my god, Tim. I haven't even told him any of this.'

Lowering the third blouse she was holding up to herself, absently staring into her own reflected face, thoughts all over the place as she had been trying to pick something to wear for the meet up, she threw to onto the mountain of clothing on her bed, and dug her phone from the back pocket of her jeans.
Flicking through the contacts, her thumb hovered over 'Alvin', stalling.
All these years, and she still hadn't bothered changing his name in her contacts. Even after several phone changes.
At this point, it was a security measure, Couldn't walk around with every member of the Wayne family in your contacts, after all. Right? Right.

'Sure, you keep telling yourself that, Stephanie.'

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Locking the phone again, she paced back and forth across the carpeted floor of her bedroom, scowling heavily at herself.
What was the problem here?
Was it the history?
It's always the history. But. This just felt. Necessary.
She could text him? But then he'd go into overdrive, because it wouldn't have enough information.
She was gonna have to call. And not dork it up.
Well. More than usual.
Exhaling heavily, unlocking the phone, and taking a seat on her window sill, she pulled up 'Alvin', called, and wanted for him to pick up.
And waited;
And waited;
And waited


"Ohthankgod, Tim, hi. Hey. Hello."

"Uh. Hey? What's up? Everything ok?"

'Good job. You've already failed in not dorking.'

"Uh, yeah, everything's fine, I just wanted to talk to you about some stuff, and maybe ask you something, if that was ok. You know, if you had time."


Realizing how she was sounding, she spoke quickly, waving her hand at herself, in the air.

"No no, not that stuff. It's about my daughter, Tim."

A pause.

"Is she ok?"

Breaking into a watery grin, her eyes filling with happy tears, not for the first time, talking about Lea, she picked up the letter again, and the flood gates opened.

"She's great, Timmy. She wrote me a letter. Two letters, actually, and sent me a picture. Her name is Lea. She's so big. She likes Superman, and Robin, and purple, and horses, and she wants me to come see her. I was wondering if you'd come with me. Since, y'know. You came with me to birthing classes, and you were basically more involved in her birth than I was, I mean, you held her, I didn't. It makes sense. To me, I mean."

Another pause, a longer pause, in which Stephanie sniffles softly.

"Of course, Stephie. When is it?"

"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

10/01/2019 08:02 PM 

A Reply: Drabble

attention: | mentions:A Replywww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
She started at the notepad, the blank lines almost mocking her. She had been wanting, waiting for, this moment for years now, and now that she had it, she froze.
She didn't know what to say.
So many jumbled, disjointed thoughts, that she couldn't even sort out herself, to put pen to paper, let alone expect an almost six year old to be able to decipher.

"Earth to Spacecase, come in Spacecase."

A hand waved in front of her face, snapping her from her staring.
Setting down the purple gel pen, with its chewed to death from overthinking cap, Stephanie leant back, setting her hands on the blank pad, to look at her Ground Control, Jordanna.

"What's up, Jor?"

Slipping into the seat across from her, the library fairly quiet this time of day, Jordanna looked from the blank page to chewed pen, to Stephanie's face.

"You've been staring at that page for days now. What's the problem? Stuck on an essay?"

Shaking her head slightly, Steph pulled the slightly crinkled envelope from her backpack, smoothing it softly, carefully, mumbling a response.

"Trying to think how to reply to this. It's harder than I thought it would be. I don't know where to start. Or what not to say. Or what to say. I just. I don't know where to start."

Frowning, having never heard the always full of some form of confidence  Stephanie Brown mumble, and so unsure of herself, Jordanna reached for the envelope. Steph pulled it back slightly.

"You're gonna judge me. Like. More than you already do."

"Just give it. You keep saving my ass, I'll give you a pass."

With a sigh, Steph handed it over, before going back to chewing on the pen lid.
After a few moments of silence, Jordanna, folding it back up and sliding it back to her, says softly.

"You had a baby. Big deal. You went to term with her, at such a young age. That can't have been easy…"

Steph shrugged a shoulder absently, frowning slightly. Jordanna tapped the paper.

"Just write. Tell her about you. Answer her questions about the Bats. Talk about purple. Be an old timey pen pal. It's not the end of the world, Stephanie. She seems like a cool kid. She definitely doesn't take after you."

Letting out a snort of laughter, Steph nodded, giving Jordanna a watery smile.

"I know, right? Definitely got the right parents for her."

Before lowering her head and beginning to scribble away.

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
To Lea,
It took me the longest time to work out what to write to you. Not because I didn't want to, but I just didn't know what to say.
But a friend of mine told me to just write. I'm sorry if this gets long, or boring, I've been dying to talk to you since, well, you were born, so its a long time coming.
It's sort of funny that you live in Metropolis and know everything about Superman, I used to dress up like Superman when I was little, and I think I still have a shirt and poster in my room somewhere!
I'll send you some Gotham Bat-merchandise, there's a lot of it. There's even a Batburger. It's kind of silly, really. But about the Robins, there isn't a school for them, that I know about. There was a girl Robin, but she doesn't really count a Robin. Not really. She was Robin for two months, and then she died. It's not a good life to be a Robin, so be safe in your suit. I do like the purple additions, much better than all the red and green.
Talking about Robin. I'll tell you a secret. The Robin before the one we have now, that took back over after the girl Robin, was actually there when you were born. Only you, he and I know that now.
I was involved with some not so safe stuff. And my dad was a real bad guy. I didn't want anything to happen to you. I would have tried my very best to provide for you, but I knew I wouldn't be able to keep you safe.
Now you're in the safest place you could possibly be. And you're happy, and loved, and I couldn't ask for more.
Purple is my favorite color too. That's pretty cool, don't you think?
  I like music, all music, any music. You play it, I'll dance and sing.
I play piano sometimes, but not as well as I'd like to.
I'm studying to be a doctor. Help all the people I can.
That's all I can think of for now, Lea.
Let's be pen pals.
From Stephanie Brown. 
"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

09/25/2019 10:33 PM 

Mail Time: Drabble

attention: | mentions:Mail Timewww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
Shuffling downstairs, hair matted to her head, cheek swollen, lip split, bruised, sore, in good spirits, Stephanie Brown stifled a yawn, dragging her weary body to the kitchen.
Sitting at the table, sipping from her mug, attention focused on the newspaper, Crystal glanced up at the zombie like figure of her daughter, reflexively flinching at the sight of her face.

"Big night then?"

The not so battered side of her face tweaked upwards into a half grin, as the blonde moved about making herself the all important first meal of the day; coffee.

"Aren't you glad you know about my night job now, and I don't have to try to make up some sort of lie about this?"

With an all too familiar less than amused murmuring in response, a response everyone around her had developed over the years, Stephanie moved to study the fruit bowl, as Crystal lowered the newspaper.

"Oh, a letter came for you.-"

Before Stephanie could even joke about old timers and snail mail, or wonder about who would even bother sending her mail, Crystal continued, as if seeing the thoughts forming in her daughter's head.

"It looks like a childs handwriting."

Abandoning all jokes, search for fruit and her coffee, Steph beelined to the end table kept next to the front door, a stack of mail sitting on it. Flipping through it almost frantically until she found the one addressed to her she threw the others back down, and just stared at it for a moment.
It could be anything. It could be Efia, from Africa, maybe. That's it. Leslie gave Efia a way to contact her.
So why was the return address in Metropolis?
With hands beginning to tremble, she turned the envelope over, taking in the sunflower sticker acting as a seal. A reflexive chuckle left her, slowly sliding her finger under the lip, unsealing it.
Slowly taking out the carefully folded letter, on lined paper, she began to read.
The further down the page she read, the harder the pages trembled in her grasp. A choked sob escaping her throat, as she sank down to the floor.
By the time she had reached the last page, tears ran unhindered down her cheeks.
Crystal slowly made her way over to Stephanie, kneeling next to her, who handed her the letter, sobbing, and laughing into her mother's lap.

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
To Miss Brown,
That's how my mom says you should write letters. I've never written a letter before, but this one is special.
My name is Lea Jacobs. I'm going to be six soon. But mom says you only need to know my name, because you'll know how old I am.
I see on tv and movies that people get scared about being adopted, that mom and dad aren't really mom and dad, but they're the only mom and dad I've ever had, so don't be scared that I know, ok! Mom told me when I was being bullied, and I wanted to write to you, so we got a, mom called him a pie? and now I'm writing to you!
I started a fight with the bullies. I don't think standing up for yourself is wrong, but the teachers say fighting is wrong. It's confusing.
I like puppies, kittens, and horses, but birds are the best. With all the bright colors.
We see Superman all the time, and Supergirl. But since you live in Gotham, I want to tell you about the time we saw Batman, Robin and Batgirl helping Superman and Supergirl! They're so cool! Do you see them a lot? I like Robin. Is it true there's been a lot of Robins? Even a girl one? Is there a school for Robins? Is there more than one Batman? There's more than one Batgirl, right?
I know all about Superman. If you write me back, you can ask me anything about him.
My favorite color is purple, but I really like green and blue too.
And I think I'm running out of stuff to write.
Mom is going to put a picture of me in my Halloween costume that I made. My very own Robin suit. But it had to have purple. There's too much red on the real ones.
Did you know there's a black and purple robin? That's so cool.
I hope you can write back. But if you can't that's ok too!
From Lea 
"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

09/21/2019 05:21 PM 

Secrets: Drabble

attention: | mentions: Secretswww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
Sometimes, people like to keep secrets. Deep, dark secrets. Locked away, never to be found by anyone, to be taken with them to the grave.
Stephanie Brown had several secrets, obviously, being part of the Costumed Freak Club that ran around Gotham of a night time.
She hid her relationships from her mother, as well as the fact that her father was alive.
Her father didn't know he was a grandfather, and she planned on keeping it that way. She didn't need Arthur Brown messing up another poor little girls life.
Reason number 327 she gave her daughter up for adoption.
Steph also hid physical things. Not just her scars, although that's obvious, but items. Her suits, her gear. Some childhood pictures of her and Arthur. A cassette tape player, and some of his tapes.
You see, as much as Stephanie would like to try to tell everyone, to tell herself that she hated him, that she wanted him dead, when the shady government agent came to tell them he had died, she didn't take it well at all.
All Stephanie ever wanted was to try to help her father. Work out why he was bad. Maybe help him become better. Be a good person.
Digging to the back of her closet, to the cardboard box she kept the tape player and tapes in, settling herself in the corner and putting in Side A of the random mixtape of songs taped from the radio at some point or another, she let herself think back to childhood.
Not the parts she remembered regularly. Not the yelling and screaming. Not the visits to Blackgate, or the time locked in the closet for making noise at the wrong time, but being taught to ride a bike, and his sheer panic as she immediately took off down the steepest hill she could find.
"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Taking a well worn photo from the box, of a birthday party, she wasn't sure who's it was, her perched on her father's shoulders, Crystal smiling next to them, Steph found herself idly wondering who took the photo, to raise her head and stare at the tape deck as The Nutbush started playing.
Arthur had taught her this dance. She remembered thinking it was super dorky at the time, but now all she could picture was bright orange clad Cluemaster, and bright green Riddler, good old Uncle Eddie, doing the Nutbush.
Falling into a giggling fit, collapsing to the side, holding her ribs, covering her mouth, her shoulder knocking the cassette player, causing a jarring, tearing sound.
Sitting bolt upright, mirth immediately evaporating, jamming the stop button, eyes wide, then eject, letting out a strangled cry seeing the streams of ribbon like tape outside the cassette.
Gingerly trying to salvage the tape, she scowled at herself as her eyes began to prickle.
It was just a tape. Just her dad's tape. Why was she acting like this. It didn't matter. It's not like he was dead or anything. He was still alive. Still trying to kill her.
Clenching her fist around it, hurling it across the bedroom and resting her forehead against her knees as there was the little plastic clutter to the floor, Stephanie sat in silence for a moment.

"Stupid. Stupid tape. Stupid music. Stupid dad. Stupid… everything."

Throwing the photo back into the box, snagged the case for the tape she hurled, stood, crossed to pick up the tape and collected it.
Moving to her wastepaper basket, looking at the mass of magnetic tape and plastic in her hands, she dropped it in on top of torn up, half written essays, along with the case. After a moments pause, she scooped the case back out, took the hand written song listing slip out of it, and dropped the empty shell back in.
Spotify existed, after all. And even if he was a criminal, murderous bastard, her father had decent taste in music.

"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

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