Gender: Female
Age: 23
Sign:
Virgo
Country: United States
Signup Date:
August 14, 2018
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09/15/2019 08:54 PM
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[Lilies and Roses: Drabble]
'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. "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 Melanie, by the way." Straightening up herself, Steph shook the young womans hand, and smiled softly. "The pleasure is all mine. I'm Steph... It's still all ok, right?" Melanie 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.
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09/13/2019 09:24 PM
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[Drills: Drabble]
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-" 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, Crystal 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. This slowly shifted to absently tapping her foot in time with a muffled beat Crystal could just 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…"
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09/07/2019 10:20 PM
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[Habits: Drabble]
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. 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.
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08/27/2019 11:57 PM
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[Bait: Drabble]
"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." 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!"
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08/24/2019 05:52 PM
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[Caregivers: Drabble]
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?" 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.
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08/22/2019 06:46 PM
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[Sunrise: Drabble]
The rain was relentless, it was cold and biting against her lower face, her only exposed skin. It wasn't the first time Steph was grateful for the fact her suit was insulated, and with Gothams weather, she knew it wouldn't be the last. Saturated blonde strands sticking to her shoulders, she sighed softly to herself, subtle aches and pains setting in, as she sank down on the edge of a rooftop. The night had been as unyielding as the downpour. The beginnings of what could have been another gang war between a branch of the Triad [the Neon Dragon Triad] and the Odessa Mob [a branch of the Ukrainian Mafia]. It could have been a mess. Well. A bigger mess. But she handled it. With copious amounts of gooparangs. There wasn't gonna be another gang war. Not on her watch. Now she was just hoping for the next few minutes to stay quiet, while she just… sat.The rain began to let up, clouds parting, revealing the predawn, hyper polluted skyline that reigned over Gotham. Of a night, its sky was a blood red. During the day? A faint blue. But pre dawn? Just as the sun rose? Well, let's just say Little Miss Lavender Lover didn't mind her days of sleep deprivation to see the sun rises. Pulling a knee to her chest, wincing slightly, a faint smile on her face, Stephanie watched as the sun rose, and the skyline matched her suit. Whatever happened today, it was going to be a good day.
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08/12/2019 09:26 PM
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[Sanctuary Session: Drabble]
Taking the seat quietly, the blonde Batgirl sat, absently playing with the ends of her hair, twisting the strands in her fingers, trying to work out where, if, she wanted to start. After a considered silence, she let out a slow sigh, let go of the twisted curl, dropped her hands into her lap, and raised her eyes to the camera, the cowl still covering her face. “I am Batgirl. But not the first one. Like, the third, or fourth, or fifth one, depending on who you ask. No one remembers it, and, as much as I give them hell for it, I don’t think it ever really counted, I was Robin, for a little bit. Seventy-two days, actually.” Lowering her head, shoulders slumping slightly. “Not that I was counting, or anything…” Pulling her cape in around herself, like a blanket, pulling her feet up onto the seat, her knees up to her chest, she rested her chin on them, frowning visibly, even with the cowl. “And then I got fired. It wasn’t the first time I got fired. I used to get fired a lot. But going back to nobody Spoiler after being part of something, even when… I know I really wasn’t part of it…” She trails off, sharply sniffling, clearing her throat and turning her head. “....I died. I did something stupid after losing the Robin mantle, it was all my fault, and… I died. It’s pretty simple. But that’s not considered a real death, because I wasn’t in the grave. I wasn’t buried…. My heart stopped. I don’t care what anyone says. That’s dead.” Sniffling again, it seemed like now that she had started, it was all going to be hard to reign herself back in. Resting her forehead on her knees, wrapping her arms around her legs, she continued after a considered pause, as if working out what she wanted to say. “When we were told my dad died? I kept telling everyone I was happy about it. That it was good he was dead. But it wasn’t. It just meant he could never be good. I just wanted to know why he was the way he was, and no one had answers for me because they all thought I was a part of another one of his sick games again. And then when I found out he wasn't dead? And the one behind framing me for murder, and killing people I knew, and just…. Being a general a**hole? I was glad he wasn’t dead, for a split second. Just one second. Then he put me in a coma with a dream spore, trying to kill me, yet again, and exposing me being Batgirl to mom by extension.” Letting out a slow breath, she pulled the cape around her tighter, stifling a hiccup, and wiping her damp cheeks. “It just makes me realise that I did make the right choice in giving up my daughter… I would have been a terrible mother. I can barely keep myself alive, let alone another human. I just hope she's happy, loved and healthy…” She lowers her voice to a whisper, the tears welling up to the point of uncontainability. “...I think about her every day…” For several minutes, Batgirl sits, hugging her legs, using the weight of the cape as some form of comfort, before gathering herself, unfolding herself, straightening up, shoulders back, pushing her hair back over her shoulder, and clearing her throat. “.... I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have this… the job, the mantles. But I have hope. And that's a start, right?” Offering a watery smile, she holds her hands together in her lap, hanging her head slightly, before getting to her feet. “... I think I’m gonna stick with keeping things bottled up, if it's all the same to you…. You don’t have enough tape for all my issues…”
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08/11/2019 12:01 AM
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[Happy Birthday To Me?:Drabble]
She had been purposely laying low, trying to avoid everyone she knew, her phone, it's perma-silenced state a blessing as the few observant people sent messages she could pretend to ignore. You see, August 11th was the day she was brought, she assumes, kicking and screaming into the world. Her mother never actually spoke about her birth. Steph assumed it must have been reasonable enough, no complications. Or maybe Crystal was too off her face to remember it. It was hard to say, really. There was a reason Steph didn't really talk to her mother about anything. No. Her plans for this most glorious of days, was to hide out. Not be expected to be excited about a day she didn't care about. The point of celebrating birthdays was to celebrate another year of not dying anyway, right? A bit late for that one, for her. She had done that. So it seemed… pointless. Hollow. Almost mocking. Every time her phone buzzed, she would pick it up to look, to make sure it wasn't a call out, but promptly set it back down upon seeing it wasn't. Laying on her stomach, sprawled across her bed, study materials scattered around her, chewing the end of a pen, absently bobbing her foot to the music playing from her phone it was around 10:30pm when the angsty vocals of Haley Williams cut out, and the phone continued to vibrate across the text book it sat on. Frowning slightly, picking it up, she frowned further, seeing who was calling her. JordannaAnswering the call, Steph spoke wearily. "Jordanna?" It was definitely Jordanna on the other end of the line, and she seemed to be intoxicated. "Oh good, I knew you wouldn't have anything better to do. Listen, I really need your help." There was a pause, in which Steph was considering hanging up on her, but sighed slowly. "What's wrong…?" She says slowly, shifting, swinging her legs off the bed. "Listen, I came out on a date with a guy I met. And after I told him I wasn't going to go home with him he's totally ditched me here and-" Stephanie was already pulling on her shoes and jacket "Where are you?" "Uh. Some place Downtown… I wasn't really paying a lot of attention. He was really charming, and good looking, and we were talking a lot…" "Don't worry about it, Jor. Go wait in the ladies room, and I’ll come find you." "How are you-" "Don't worry about how. I’ll be there soon. Keep your phone on you, ok? I've gotta get off the phone now. I’ll be there." "...ok… thank you…" "...don't worry about it." Ending the call, she started another one. "Hey Babs? Can you do something for me real quick?" "Hello to you too, Stephanie… I suppose, what is it?" "I said Hey! Can you find someone based on their cell phone number?" "Technically? Who are you trying to stalk?" "Woman, one of my classmates just called me asking for help. Her date got her drunk and ditched her. She doesn't know where she is. Can you help or not." After a brief moment of silence, in which Steph was already on her way out the door, Babs speaks again. "What was the number?" Storming into the ladies room a good twenty minutes later, Stephanie stands in the door way for a moment, looking around. "Jordanna?" The back stall unlocks slowly, a head of dark hair pokes out, looking at her, before the rest of Jordanna Spence rushes in Steph's direction to throw a relieved hug around her shoulders. Awkwardly patting her back, Stephanie clears her throat slightly. "I was worried you wouldn't come because I'm always such a jerk to you…" Jordanna mutters, almost tearily. Steph can't help but laugh. "Oh, sweetie. Don't even worry about it. If someone needs help, I help. C'mon. Let's get you some coffee…" Offering her arm to her classmate, which Jordanna took, and lead her outside, and down the block. "I know how you found me…" Jordanna says softly, as they walk. Steph says nothing, just raising a brow at her. Jordanna leant in to excitedly whisper. "I googled you, while I was waiting, just to do something. Stuff came up that didn't while I was searching for that mystery boyfriend of yours. You were a vigilante! A purple one, named Spoiler, to stop your dad, Cluemaster. And that you were Robin! Actually Robin! With Batman! That explains so much! But it also said you died. Had an obituary and everything. Look!" Jordanna pulled out her phone and started showing a screenshot of it. August 11 1999 - April 19 2014 Steph looked away. She had managed to avoid reading it this long, she wasn't gonna do it now. "Don't believe everything you read on the internet, Jor. Obviously I'm not dead. I'm flesh and blood. You're holding my arm." "But the other stuff. It all makes so much sense now, it's why you're so weird. Wait… the new Batgirl is blonde and wears purple too…" Putting on her best exasperatedly exhausted face, which wasn't hard at this point, she looked at Jordanna. "Girl, if I were Batgirl, wouldn't I have been out beating up bad guys and not picking up your call?" She froze, frowning, thinking hard. "C'mon. You're drunk, and frazzled. Let's get you that coffee, and get you home safe. I'm sure I'll be back to freak status by morning." Taking off her jacket and giving it to Jordanna, before leading her into the diner, guiding her into a booth and paying for coffee, she sat back. "Hey, Stephanie?" Raising her brows over her mug in acknowledgement while sipping, Jordanna continued, holding her mug in both hands. "Assuming that obituary was true, it's your birthday… what were you even doing that you could just run out of to come get me?" Pausing, trying to work out how, if, she wanted to answer the question, she frowned slightly, lowering her mug. "I was studying." "...on your birthday." "I don't celebrate my birthday. Just reminds me of childhood." "....oh. I'm sorry. I know I've made fun of you about your dad before but… must be rough." Half smiling, Steph shrugged a shoulder and turned her head to look out the window, lightly tapping a chipped pink manicured nail on the coffee mug. "I honestly don't know if I'd change anything. The journey gets you to where you are, y'know?" Jordanna snorted a laugh. "Girl, that was corny. I was almost willing to believe you were cool enough to be a hero. Not after that." "I told you! I'm not!" "Yeah, well, whatever. Happy birthday anyway, you dweeb."
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08/02/2019 04:57 PM
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[Dreams and Reality: Drabble]
Eyes turned out the window of the empty classroom, the day of learning having ended probably hours ago, at this point, Stephanie only shifted to recross her ankles on the desk in front of her, moving so her feet wouldn’t fall asleep. She never understood why philosophy was required for her major, but today's lecture hit her hard. About dreams and reality. It wasn’t all that long ago, really, that she was hit with Black Mercy, an alien spore that put you in a coma, and killed you by trapping you in dreams so perfect that you wished to never wake up. Unfortunately for the Black Mercy, and her father, the one who dosed her with it to begin with, Steph may be a dreamer, but she knows when things are too good to be true. Even in dreams. She broke out of the spores grip on her before Doctor Midnite’s treatment, a full blood transfusion, was finished. Stubborn is as stubborn does, right? She’s a real pain in the ass like that, as she told Barbara afterwards. The truth was, while she may have hope for Gotham, and pushes on to save the city, its people, the spore made a mistake in showing her what it did. She didn’t really feel like she had friends, teams, or partners. She did most of her work alone. Team Batgirl didn’t work out. And that was ok. Steph pushed on. Steph did Steph. A Lantern Ring for hope? Not likely. Not with how much self doubt she was filled with. She knew O did get a Green Lantern Ring during the Black Lantern issues though. Good job pulling memories in, spores. A dark haired son, while living her best doctor lady life in a swanky high rise apartment by day, Nightwing by night? That was possible. Mantle stealing was kinda her thing. As were dark haired men. That one can’t be ruled out entirely. But the point was. Black Mercy tried too hard with her. It should have just shown her being herself, and being good at it. Not much of a dream, sure, but sometimes the best dreams are realistic. Watching as the sun went down over the city, her city, Stephanie slowly got to her feet, stretching up, cracking her joints with a slow twist of her shoulders and hips, and moved out to the parking lot. with the lonely Compact sitting in the student lot, she slipped into the vehicle, making use of its heavily tinted windows to slip from street clothes to batsuit, and got to work. Doing the thing she did best. Being Stephanie Brown, one of the Batgirls.
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07/14/2019 03:40 PM
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[Shower Thoughts: Drabble]
Leaning her head against the cool tiles, eyes closing as the biting sting of hot water hit her skin, Stephanie let out a slow groan, trying to forget about the aches for a moment. The bathroom, dark, filling with steam, lit only by a flickering candle, the blonde in no mood for harsh lighting right now, tried to focus on the water, and the music blaring from her phone, sat on the vanity counter, attempting to unwind a little from her, let's call it, less than stellar, night on the town. Absently humming along to the Sia song playing, shifting her weight slowly, mentally assessing her condition, coming back all 'bruised and oh dear god why did you think that was a good idea', Steph turned, facing the spray, folding her arms and using them as a form of pillow to lean her head on the wall over the taps, water hitting the top of her back, neck and shoulders, hissing slightly at her left shoulder. “Note to self. See about that before bed…” Muttering to herself, closing her eyes, she lowered her left arm, and just tried to stand still.
She probably should have seen Leslie when she was in the field when she felt it pull out of place to begin with, but Leslie liked to lecture her, and on top of everything else tonight, Steph wasn’t feeling a lecture. Nothing went wrong, per say.
But nothing went right either. Which was about right, in Stephanie Brown’s book.
No one died.
It’s just that sometimes, grapple points aren’t the most secure, and don’t like it when you’re swinging through with two fully grown men also on your line, trying to cut you out of the sky.
If it really was another dislocated shoulder she could deal with that. Even work with that.
No worries. Shifting and tilting her head back, putting her face under the almost biting spray, holding her breath until her lungs started to ache, Stephanie slowly leaning back, blinking water from her eyes, she thought about how much things had changed since she started this.
How much she had changed.
It used to be about saving herself. Stopping her dad. Seeing Tim. Proving people wrong about her.
Now? Well, she was still always trying to prove people they were wrong about her. That was probably going to be a constant in her life. But it wasn’t about seeking approval, or validation anymore. It wasn’t about her. Or even Them (‘Them’ being the other vigilantes and heroes in Gotham, and anywhere, really, that dared to say she couldn’t).
It was about Gotham. The people that couldn’t help themselves. The people being told no one cared, and that believed it. Because it wasn’t true.
She cared.
Helping them, helping anyone, made this, her current, bruised, achy predicament worth every sleepless minute of it.
But she was going to need some form of rest. Batgirl might rule the night, but Stephanie Brown was barely functional during the day, and still had class in the morning.
Reluctantly turning off the spray, and wrapping herself in a towel, she cracked open the bathroom door, Elton John and steam creeping out into the hall, calling out. “Hey Mom? You available for a shoulder relocation? It’s been a long night…”
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