[𝚄𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚍]

Last Login:
October 22nd, 2020

Gender: Female

Age: 20
Country: United States

Signup Date:
August 14, 2018


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. Any more than usual.
Exhaling heavily, unlocking the phone, and taking a seat on her window sill, she pulled up 'Alvin', called, and waited 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's 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 it's 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 as 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 child's 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 paper 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 line, 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! They're really cute.
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. Become 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. The bruises and beatings. Not the visits to Blackgate, or the hours 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, and her breaking her arm. The one time she got hurt and it wasn't by his hand. That he worried about it and tried to comfort her, tried to fix it. Tried to be a father.
"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 whose 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

09/21/2019 05:12 PM 

[Proxy: Drabble]

attention: | mentions: Proxywww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
"Gotham City. You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy… wait. No… I'm thinking of something else…"

The cowl wearing blonde taps at her chin, straightening up after pulling the ziptie tight around the wrists of the street thug, her foot on the middle of his squirming back. An exasperated sigh sounds over her comms.

"You're doing it again. No-one gets your references."

"No, you don't get my references, Proxy. You're just a heathen. You got it, right dude?"

Nudging the thug with her foot, he nodded feebly, mumbling through his swollen lips.

"Star Wars…"

"Atta boy. Stay on the straight and narrow next time. You seem alright. Proxy! The music!"

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Steph pointed skyward, a weary groan sounding in response. Drawing her grapple and starting to walk away from her bust of the night, twirling the gas line pistol in her palm she grins deviously.

"It's less painful with the music, and you know it. The music drowns me out."

"Yeah, but. You're kidding right? You seriously want this played?"

"Dead serious."

With a heavy sigh, Wendy queues up the playlist.
Closing her eyes with a pleased grin, firing off the grapple to continue with the nights patrol, she started humming along to Bat Out Of Hell.

"I hate you."

Proxy deadpans, while sending her the address for a silent alarm being tripped. Changing course and heading to it, Batgirl grinned.

"That's how you know you're one of us for real, Prox. Hating me is common ground."

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

09/15/2019 08:54 PM 

[Lilies and Roses: Drabble]

attention: | mentions: Lilies and Roseswww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
'The Wall For The Fallen'

Steph knew it existed. It was constructed fairly quickly after her death, after Leslie had already taken her from the country.
She could never bring herself to step foot anywhere near it, because any of the names on it, the faces, were there because of her.
The wall, built under the suggestion of investigative reporter Aaron Black, of all people- 'Real slick alias, Dad. A B named color. No-one will ever see it. Great work. Absolutely genius.' -stood in the plaza out the front of town hall, covered in faded photographs, small brass name plates, flowers and candles in various states of life laying at it's base.
Gripping the straps of her backpack with both hands, setting her jaw and swallowing the nerves? bile? three cups of coffee threatening to vacate her stomach? Steph took a deep breath, and slowly started looking at the names, at the faces in the pictures.
As she moved along the wall, looking at the faces, seeing the names of people who had died because she couldn't… just grow up. Stop trying to… prove something.
With stinging eyes, and a tightening throat, determined to see this through now, Stephanie kept moving along the wall, until she saw a face and name plate that filled her with anger, in prominent placing, dead center of the wall.
Stephanie Brown
With pictures of her in her Spoiler and Robin suits.
Blinking furious through the confused tears, she reached up to grab the poster sized photo, but froze at movement at her side.

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
"Did you know her?"

Asked a small, feminine voice. Flattening her hand against the wall, Steph bowed her head, cleared her throat and gave the most honest cover lie she would ever give to date.

"She helped me out of some sticky situations, yeah…"

"She saved me once. When I was younger. Her and the scary Batgirl. Not the one we have now. When she was Robin, not the purple, cloak one, uh, Spoiler."

Turning her head to look at the younger girl, Stephanie's eyes widened slightly in recognition, straightening off the wall. Taking the motion as interest in the story, the younger woman continued.

"My dad used me to run guns for Penguin. Robin exploded at Penguin. And the guys. And my dad. She was really cool. I wish more people got to meet her. But. Ok, you might think this is crazy. But. People have seen Spoiler back in Gotham since. Just for a bit. Do you think it's a new person?"

With a lopsided smile, Stephanie looked up and down the wall, before shrugging slightly.

"I don't know if I'd be a fan of someone who got this many people killed, kiddo…"

"Bull. Stephanie didn't kill these people. Sure, ok, she made a mistake. I watched that news special a million times since, but you know what? People die in Gotham all the time. And it's people like Stephanie, like Robin, Batman, Batwoman, the Batgirls, who help keep us safe. We would be worse off without them."

Smiling softly at the young woman, Steph wiped at her eyes, and shook her head slightly, before crouching to look at the flowers laying under the poster she was still planning on tearing down.

"Do you bring these?"

"A few of us do…"

Glancing up at her with a raised brow, the young woman shrugged, also crouching.

"A girl saw Batman do it, so we just kinda keep doing it."

Blinking in dumbfounded silence Steph turned her attention back to the flowers, absently dead heading them.

"Batman. Left flowers. For Stephanie Brown. I feel like that's some sort of joke."

"No, she swears up and down, he came out, Batmobile and all, in the day, with white lilies and pink roses."

Only murmuring in acknowledgement, Steph wedged her elbow onto her knee, resting her hand on her chin, looking back up at the sun bleached photos, sighing. After a moment, the young woman straightened up, at the honking of a car horn and looking down at Stephanie she extended her hand.

"It's been nice to meet you, but I gotta go, that's my mom. Maybe I'll see you around. I'm Sarah, by the way."

Straightening up herself, Steph shook her hand, and smiled softly.

"The pleasure is all mine. It's nice to finally have a name to go with a face. I'm Steph."

Sarah turned and started towards the car briskly, before stopping and turning back to the wall, realisation sinking in, but the blonde was nowhere to be seen.

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

09/13/2019 09:24 PM 

[Drills: Drabble]

attention: | mentions: Drillswww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
Eyes snapping open, sitting bolt upright in her bed, sheets kicked to the floor some time before her waking, pillows almost thrown around the room, Stephanie frowned at her own heavy breathing, raised heart rate, and dry, aching throat.
Sniffing sharply, using the bottom of her oversized burnt orange Gotham University tee shirt to wipe the sweat from her forehead, and dry her cheeks, dabbing at the particularly nasty, very fresh shiner from patrol the night before, scooting her knees up to her chest while she tried to steady herself.
What had woken her so suddenly?
She couldn't remember any dream. She wasn't particularly injured, only the black eye, so it wasn't pain that woke her.
Clenching her jaw as her teeth began to ache, turning her attention to the sunshine streaming through the window, she relented, unfolding herself from her self-hug and throwing her bedding haphazardly back on the bed before heading down stairs to the kitchen, where she could hear her mother moving around.
Beelining immediately to her polka dot mug, to pour herself coffee, she damn near jumped out of her skin when a hand touched her shoulder.
Whipping around, both coffee pot and mug in hand, she stared wide eyed at her mother.

"Jesus, Mom! That's a good way to get yourself with a coffee pot smashed across your head. What?!"

As Crystal began to speak, a horrific, bone grinding whining filled Stephanie's ears.

"I asked if you were alright, honey. You were screaming before you woke up."

Steph scowled furiously, setting the coffee pot down, clutching the mug in both hands, moving to the other side of the kitchen from her mother, looking out the window.

"Yeah, fine. Just peachy."

"You sure, Stephie? Because, y'know, you don't seem like your usual peppy self."

Steph continued staring out the kitchen window, the whirring stopping and starting now, her grip on the mug so tight her hands shaking. Speaking through gritted teeth Stephanie says

"What. The f***. Is that F***ING SOUND?!"

Crystal, not expecting that sort of outburst from her daughter stares blankly at the blonde for a second before coming over to the window alongside her to point.

"Steve is building a gazebo. It's power tools, sweetie."

"No. Not just power tools. There's an electric drill…"

Steph says flatly, it all making sense to her now, setting her untouched coffee in the sink to grab an apple from the fruit bowl, and slide the window open. Seeing the arm wind back, Crystal grabbed Stephanie's wrist, frowning at her over the frames of her glasses.

"Stephanie Brown! What do you think you're doing?! Steve has never done anything to you."

Relenting and giving over her projectile, Steph dropped into her seat at the kitchen table, clapping her hands over her ears as the whining bore it's way into her brain.

"No, but drills have…"

Crystals features softened, moving to crouch at her daughter's side, lightly putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Oh, honey… I…"

Shrugging her mother's hand from her shoulder she just held up a hand and shook her head.

"Don't touch me right now, please. I can't. I just-"

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Falling silent, pulling her feet up onto the seat, wedging her forehead onto her knees, her hands clamping over her ears harder. Crystal sank back on her heels for a second, looking around for a solution, standing to shut the kitchen window, going upstairs, and returning with a blanket, Stephanie's phone (in a candy green colored jelly case this week), and her headphones, fetched from the depths of her bag. Opening and queuing up the playlist 'Beats to box to', before gently setting the headphones on Stephanie's head, the phone in front of her, and draping the blanket around her, and instead of setting the coffee in front of her, she made her tea.
Then Crystal sat with Stephanie, as she slowly removed her hands from her ears, putting them over the headphones instead, to then holding the blanket, to absently tapping her foot in time with a muffled beat Crystal could make out, to Stephanie slowly unfolding herself, sipping at the tea.
The square of sunlight through the kitchen window had shifted a good way across the floor by the time Crystal tapped at the side of her head, and motioned to Steph to lift her headphones.
Feeling much more calm at this point, having switched to watching videos of crooks in Gotham failing at things horribly uploaded by random citizens to YouTube, she took this as a coast is clear signal, and removed her 'armor', letting out a soft sigh of relief. Leaning back and closing her eyes she visibly relaxes, rubbing her face with her hands.
Crystal, however, was in Nurse Mom mode. Double bad.

"So, that was a whole lot, huh? Do you wanna talk about it?"

Letting out a reflexive laugh, Steph lets her arms fall slack to her sides.

"Not really… but I feel like you're gonna make me…"

"Stephanie, you've been through a lot of stuff, in such a short period of time. You're still so young. If you don't talk about these things you'll combust at some point."

Hanging her head, she sighs, absently raising her fingers to prod at the black eye, before resting her chin on her palm, elbow on the table.

"Here's the thing, Mom. You destroyed the medical records for that. You burnt them. After Roman tried attacking you."

Crystal frowned, straightening her posture slightly.

"What do you- how-"

"I know a lot of things, Mom. I’ll save you the trauma. Without going into too much detail, one of the things he used to torture me with to try to get information was a power drill."

Whether it was Stephanie's flat, matter-of-fact delivery of the information, or just hearing that her daughter's breakdown over the sound of a power tool was because it was part of the reason she died, Crystal did not quite know how to react.

"Why didn't you just tell him what he wanted to know?!"

Was what came out first.
Steph shrugged the shoulder of the arm she wasn't leaning on.

"I'd like to say it was because I'm strong, and can't be broken, but it's because I didn't know what he wanted me to tell him."

After sitting in silence for a moment, Crystal reached over to take up Stephs hand, very much aware of the callouses, scars and swollen knuckles.

"I worry about you. Not just when you're out there of a night. But like today. We can get you some help..?"

Steph smiled faintly, gently squeezing her mother's hand.

"Actually, Batman makes us go to special, hero psychological facilities he and the Justice League had built. They all use it."

Crystal looked at her shrewdly.

"Do you use it though?"

Pulling a face, Steph ran a hand through her hair.

"Once… probably need to do it more…"

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

09/07/2019 10:20 PM 

[Habits: Drabble]

attention: | mentions: Habitswww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
Ricochet drop off in the woods a block from home.
Remotely return to base.
Zigzag through the backyards, hopping fences, avoiding dogs, dancing the line that was edges of the motion sensor security lights that would light up the sleepy pre dawn suburb.
Done hundreds of times, in every weather condition, Stephanie could have done the 'Get home from patrol' obstacle course in her sleep.
Realistically, she may have a few times, with some of the boot camps Cass put her through.
Slipping over her own back fence, into her backyard, she could have just walked through the back door. It wasn't like her mother didn't know about the whole Batgirl thing these days, even if she was home, but old habits were hard to break.
Climbing up the ever so carefully maintained lattice work, originally meant for some sort of vegetable garden, that just never seemed to take for some reason, Steph crawled up onto the first storey roof, before sliding her bedroom window open, and slipping inside.
"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Before her boots even touched the carpet, she was pulling the cowl away from her face, to throw it haphazardly at her bed with a weary sigh, ruffling her matted hair with the gauntlet.
It would take ninety seconds for her to completely suit up for an emergency call out. For a post patrol 'Everything hurts, I don't even want to move anymore, oh god why' removal, it could take up to ten minutes, assuming there were no injuries.
Once Steph had taken her sweet time to free herself, have a shower, and slip some pajamas on, the sun had well and truly risen.
Squinting against the beams of golden light streaming through her window, drawing the curtains, she fell face first into her bed, feet hanging off the end, taking hold of the cowl as she did so, bringing her hand next to her face, looking into the empty eyeholes of it.

"I swear if they expect a daylight call out today they're sh*t outta lu-"

She was asleep before she could finish her smartass remark.
Not a bad way for an overworked, over tired college student to spend a Saturday, really.

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

08/27/2019 11:57 PM 

[Bait: Drabble]

attention: | mentions: Baitwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
"Oh, absolutely not. No. Go home, try again."

Looking down at herself, the skin tight, low cut blue camisole, the top of her bra peeking out, and the tartan print skirt that would be better suited as a belt, to her strappy heels, before looking back to Barbara, her arms folded across her chest in disapproval.

"You wanted bait, right? I look like a ditz. Perfect bait. What's the problem?"

After a brief stare off, between mentor and protogé, Babs sighs, hanging her head, pinching the bridge of her nose under her glasses, the blonde breaking into a triumphant grin.

"I was expecting something you could at least hide some form of weapon with…"

Steph held up her slender clutch purse, and flipped it open. Inside was her phone, her collapsible bo staff and her fake id's.

"I'm prepared. I'm ready to go. C'mon! If you want this creep, let's get this creep!"

Another reluctant sigh, and Babs wheeled herself back to her monitors.

"Fine. But I'm not going to be held responsible if you get killed again."

Making sure her clutch was still neatly packed, she rolled her eyes and flicked her hair dramatically.

"I studied the case file, O, I know what I'm getting myself into. I'm honestly your best bet. I fit his victim profile. Trust me, please."

Stephanie circled to crouch next to the armrest of the wheelchair, leaning her head on the side of the red head's arm. Silence lingered, before Barbara lightly tweaked one of the loose curls, a faint frown on her face.

"It's not a matter of not trusting you, or having faith in your abilities. It's that you have a bad habit of almost dying. You have died. And whether people admit it or not, we'd hate it if you died on us again."

Turning her head to rest her chin on the armrest, looking up at Babs, Steph pulled a face.

"Yeah, well, don't tell anyone, but I kinda like being alive. So no matter the result of this, we don't tell Bruce. Because he would kill us both."

"Agreed. Now stand up properly, that skirt is not cut for that angle, Steph. God."

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
So far, the night had been… eventful, but not in the way she had wanted.
Damian had been informed of the job, and was letting Steph know what he thought about it with irritated huffs into her ear through the comms, knowing she couldn't easily always respond to him.

"So, tell me why you thought dressing like a common, street walking trollop, and making me spend the night babysit your idiotic backside was a good idea?"

Raising her glass to her lips (perks of a short skirt; free drinks) as she scanned the throngs of dancers, she spoke into it, making use of the skill developed through learning to read people's lips and not wanting hers read; speaking with her mouth closed (she wouldn't call it ventriloquism yet, she hadn't figured out how the voice throwing worked properly. Not that it would work over comms anyway).

"What has the Sixth Street Slashers type been, Gremlin? And it wasn't my idea to have you here. It was O's. Blame her."

"Oh, so you're an impractically dressed idiot, using herself as bait, and drinking on the job. I hate you."

"Mm, delicious mocktails, I'll teach you all about how to look like you're having a good time some day."

"Stop talking. A guy who has followed you from the past three places is coming towards you. Act cool, if that's possible for you."

Falling silent, after actually taking a sip, raising her hand to scratch the back of her head, a choice finger extended in the direction of the Gremlin, she tried to pick the mark, while being casual.
She couldn't, however, see the guy. She knew what she was looking for, Damian had pointed him out after he turned up in the same place as her the second time. Resisting the urge to frown, she was about to ask Robin if he had eyes on, when he spoke, barely disguised alarm in his tone, just as she felt a sharp prick in her hip.

"He's on you!"

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

08/24/2019 05:52 PM 

[Caregivers: Drabble]

attention: | mentions: Caregiverswww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
Today was a strange day.
The atmosphere in the house was dour. Gloomy.
Steph knew what the cause of the dark cloud was, even if it wasn't hanging over her. It was over Crystal.
She had been watching her all morning, trying to go about her daily routine, and just not quite being there.
When Crystal started trying to put salt into her coffee over sugar, Stephanie stepped in. Guiding her to the kitchen table, and handing her an unsalted coffee, she wordlessly prepared her mother some toast.

"I feel so stupid, Stephie…"

Setting the toast down in front of her mother, purposely cut into four squares, like Crystal would do for Steph on her good days, when she was a small child, Steph leant back against the counter, pouring herself a coffee.

"You aren't stupid, Mom. Regardless of what I think of him, and what he did, you loved him. And you still do. Why else would you still have pictures of Dad everywhere?"

Crystal nodded absently, a faint smile on her lips at the sight of the toast, nibbling at one of the small, jammy squares, as Steph sipped from her well loved polka dot mug.

"So being sad on the anniversary of the day you found out he died isn't stupid. I'd be more worried about if you're going to be functional at work or not. Because you couldn't even make coffee. Are you sure you should be handling people's lives today?"

Was she being a little harsh? Perhaps. But sometimes that was the best way to get through to her mother. Crystal looked up from her plate to Steph, frowning faintly, before nodding slowly.

"No, you're right. I'll call out."

"Good. I’ll go get you some ice cream, or chocolate or whatever you want, and you can just bunker down in bed with my laptop and watch movies all day, ok?"

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Steph softened, her point being made, the correct conclusion being reached. Crystal nodded again, finishing her toast, before standing, and hugging her daughter.

"Thank you, Stephie. You've taken care of me for longer than I've cared to admit, just because I didn't want to deal with problems that-"

"Mom, please…"

"No, Stephanie, let me say this, please. I made you deal with very adult situations when you were just a baby, because I couldn't deal with my own issues, with your father. I made you protect yourself, protect us, because I couldn't. I was a failure of a mother, and I'm sorry."

Frowning herself, Steph felt the deep, sinking weight of guilt in her stomach.
It wasn't because she hated her father that she wasn't broken up about things, like her mother. Her feelings towards her father were very complicated, to say the least.
Steph wasn't sad, because she knew her father was not, in fact, dead. He was in Gotham. Well, Blackgate again, actually. As Aaron Black. She had seen him herself since his 'death', hell, he had actually tried to kill her himself. Spent the better part of a year masterminding every bit of trouble that came her way from prison too.
But she couldn't tell Crystal that. For fear of her running back to him, and spiralling down that self destructive hole she had pulled herself out of since Arthur had 'died'.
Letting out a soft sigh, and forcing a small smile, she nudges her mother.

"Hey, it's not all bad. You ended up with your very own superhero."

"I thought you hated being called that…"

As Steph started leading Crystal upstairs, to set her up before heading out before stocking her up on snacks.

"I’ll let it slide this time… I suggest the burrito technique. And start thinking about that list of snacks, alright?"

Once she had gotten Crystal set up, and a ten minute crash course on how to use Netflix, Steph trampled back down the stairs, pausing to look at one of the pictures she normally avoided.
Her birthday, when she was six. They almost looked like a normal family.
Frowning slightly, she sighed.
Maybe Batgirl would go pay Aaron Black a visit later tonight.
But right now, Crystal Brown needed Stephanie.

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

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