【Dork Knight】

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May 22nd, 2019




Gender: Female

Age: 26
Country: United States

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November 23, 2018


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04/25/2019 08:39 PM 

Sanctuary: Drabble

attention: | mentions: Sanctuarywww.aniroleplay.com/DorkKnight
Patient: Stephanie Brown.
Alias: Batgirl.
Age: 19.
Subject willingly elected self for treatment, sighting, quote 'feeling edgy'. When prompted for what may have caused this, subject hesitated, before responding.

"I had a close call with Black Mask on patrol. I… we were in the same room. He didn't see me. I was gone. I… ran away."

Subject seems ashamed. Supplied reports indicate this Black Mask, real name Roman Sionis previously extensively tortured the subject, to the point of death.
When assured that fear is natural, subject expressed anger.

"No! I-I'm a Bat! We do the scaring. I shouldn't be scared. What… what can I do to fix this?"

Hesitation in subjects tone suggests reluctance in asking for help. When informed that being here, asking for help was a start, more anger was expressed, subject began pacing.

"Don't start with that 'The first step is asking for help' crap! I need actual stuff that will help. I need to stop freezing up when I see him. Or think I might run into him. I'm a frigging vigilante in Gotham, and he's a crime lord, I'm gonna have to deal with him eventually. It's not like I can't kick his ass. So what's my f***ing problem?!"

Subject seemed to be on the verge of tears. When prompted with what she thinks her problem may be, subject reacts violently.

"I don't know, he f***ing killed me maybe?! It was just a game to him, and he killed me?!"

Subject breaks down, is allowed to cry for as long as needed. When more composed, a question is posed: Are you afraid he will kill you again?
Subject reacts strangely. Laughs.

"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

Subject has dark sense of humor. Follow up question is posed: Why Black Mask, and not any of the other people you face on a nightly basis? Subject seems to pause, and think the question over, frowning, returning to seated position.
After an extended silence, subject shrugs.
She doesn't seem to have a response.
Question seems to have struck a chord.
New line of questioning:
Are you not better trained now than you were then? And did you not still defeat him hand to hand? Subject laughs again. A bitter laugh. Reflexive thing. Subject seems to be a deflection with humor type.

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
"I mean, yes? But he shot me. Because I hesitated. Guess your little files and folders don't say everything, huh…"

Subject attempts to agitate others when emotionally vulnerable. Defensive mechanism, perhaps?
Interesting. Subject does not like being perceived as weak, either physically, or emotionally, will provoke fights to assert self.
Course of action: Do not respond.
Subject hangs head. She seems aware of what she's doing. Question:
Is there any reason you lash out and try to start fights, even when you know I am an artificial intelligence?

"Habit… I run my mouth. Start fights. Rather be in fights and be angry about stuff than feel anything else."

Follow line of inquiry: What else is it you are trying to avoid feeling?
Subject grows visibly frustrated, then sinks back in seat, folding arms. Defensive.

"Shame? Self loathing? Doubt?"

Subject is silent. Probe further:Elaborate.
Subject growls in frustration, legs folded now.

"I ran away from a fight? Am I even worthy of my cowl?"

Subject puts a lot of weight on worthiness, and the cowl.
Diagnosis complete:
Stephanie Brown. You came here willingly. You are not as broken as you think. You are definitely warped, but you wouldn't be running around in a cape and a cowl if you weren't. You are strong. You know what your problems are. You didn't even need to come here. You just needed to hear them come from yourself. The next time you cross paths with Roman Sionis, it is guaranteed you will walk away victorious. You will not stall. Because you are Stephanie Brown. You don't need the cowl. You need your spirit.
Subject sat and stared, seemed on verge of tears again.

"... Right. Me. Because I'm the one that did all that crap. Not Batgirl…"

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

04/21/2019 07:03 PM 

Coffee: Drabble

attention: | mentions: Coffeewww.aniroleplay.com/DorkKnight
Steph wouldn't say she liked coffee more than anyone else. It was a mostly a necessity at this point, being a college student with a particularly over active nightlife, resulting in an average of three hours of sleep a night.
The girl practically ran on the stuff. Had done for years.
It was also the core of almost every social interaction she had with anyone.
Tim and his legitimate addiction.
Luca's bribery and keeping and eye on the ins and outs of the GCPD.
Study sessions with Francisco and Jordanna.
End of patrol sun rises with Barbara.
Talks with Leslie.
Breakfast with Alfred and Ace.
Picking Crystal up after a graveyard shift at the hospital.
"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
The list could go on. But there was one thing that immediately came to mind whenever she smelt coffee.
Sitting on her crappy little couch, in her crappy little apartment, with Bruce, drinking her crappy coffee.
Waking up having fallen asleep on the couch after patrol, to find he did too.
More crappy coffee.
Standing in the kitchen of Wayne Manor, and being handed a cup of coffee. Not crappy coffee.
He might have been away at the moment, but the memories were always there.
And so was the coffee.
"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.aniroleplay.com/DorkKnight

04/19/2019 08:41 PM 

Mashed Potato: Drabble

attention: | mentions: Mashed Potatowww.aniroleplay.com/DorkKnight
Everyone had a go to comfort food.
Something to eat when they weren't feeling well, or were feeling down.
For Stephanie Brown, that was mashed potatoes.
A little bit basic? Maybe.
But she was a simple girl, really, and she could get mashed potato anywhere. Dehydrated mashed potatoes were always stashed in the pantry when she still lived in her little apartment, just in case. Diners always had mash. It was never not available. If she ever wanted it, it was there.
Instant comfort. Right in her stomach.
And right now, she could use some.
It wasn't a good day for Steph.
She didn't go home last night after patrol. She had several missed calls on her phone. But she just couldn't be there right now. Not today. She would try to explain later.
Standing outside Dr Thomkins Clinic, hands deep in her pockets, staring at the scuffed toes of her sneakers, she heard Leslie coming, only raising her head when she was in front of her.

"How you doing, Steph?"

"Oh, you know. Alive."

She says flatly, smiling wryly, as Leslie scowls at her, letting out a sigh.

"Joking about it should mean progress, but with you, I feel like it's repression."

"Leslie, unless I'm screaming in someone's face about something, it's always repression… let's get food. I need my potatoes…"

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Slipping into the booth at the diner, and ordering french toast and coffee for Leslie, and a massive plate of mashed potatoes for Stephanie, the blonde looked at the calls on her phone, frowning slightly.

"You know, people care about you, Stephanie-"

She internally flinched at her full name being used. It meant some form of lecture was coming, she could tell.

"-you can let them in on your rituals, and coping mechanisms. I'm sure at least Alfred is aware of what today is. What do you think he's going to? Make it harder for you?"

Stephanie stopped to give a small smile to the waitress as her potatoes arrived, starting to poke at them.

"Well, I don't expect a Happy Death Day cake, if that's what you mean…"

Before shovelling a forkful of the starchy goodness into her mouth.

"I think, knowing your sense of humor, and his, he would do exactly that. Something completely inappropriate, and morbid. Like a lava cake with red food colouring in it. I can hear Bruce tutting at him for it now."

Leslie was slowly scowling as she spoke, Steph, however, started grinning.

"That only works if he covers it with purple marzipan though."

"Oh my god, Stephanie Brown. You've hit your head too many times…"

"Nah, I think it might have been the gun shot that did it."

She shrugs nonchalantly, packing in another mouthful of potato.

"WHAT?! When did that happen?! Why did nobody tell me about this?"

Steph started to laugh. Sometimes that was all you could do when things were bad.
Comfort food and laughter.

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

04/19/2019 07:27 PM 

Gingerbread: Drabble

attention: | mentions: Gingerbreadwww.aniroleplay.com/DorkKnight
Steph wasn't sure when she mentioned liking gingerbread in the proximity of Alfred. Or if she ever had.
The longer she lived in the Manor the more certain she was that he definitely had secret superpowers.
Because lately, with her moods swinging wildly between brooding and trying to keep Gotham on track while Bruce was away, and trying to make sure that Stephanie Brown wasn't lost in all that, the amount of gingerbread in the Manor had increased exponentially.
And the shapes it was cut in.
It started as just regular cookie shapes. Circles, and rectangles, decorated with a line of white icing, but after a concussion, they started being cut into stars, with yellow icing. It wasn't long before they started being gingerbread people, intricately decorated like the Rogues.
It seemed like, if Batgirl had a rough night on the job, Stephanie Brown would get gingerbread. It wasn't the worst arrangement in the world.
And the patrol last night was rough. Nobody died, but it was close. She was going to feel it all day.
"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Moving towards the kitchen, in search for coffee, rolling her shoulders with a slow hiss, Steph could smell it before she even hit the first floor.
There was a fresh batch.
Even though she was shaking her head, and could already hear Damian calling her 'Fatgirl', she was smiling.
On the island counter, laying out, already iced, was the fresh batch. Pouring herself the coffee (priorities, after all), Steph noted Alfred was nowhere to be seen, and the oven was cool. Sipping from her mug, she leant over to inspect them.
Bird shaped cookies. Red, green and yellow icing. Some with a dash of purple.
She had to hand it to Alfred. He was definitely finding a way to make this place slowly feel like home, without making it awkward.
Suppose he had plenty of practice with that by this stage.
Picking one up, she took her gingerbread and coffee to the piano, slowly stretching out.
She was sure he'd hear her, where ever he was.
"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.aniroleplay.com/DorkKnight

04/10/2019 08:48 PM 

Waffles: Drabble

attention: | mentions: Waffleswww.aniroleplay.com/DorkKnight
Steph didn't go home much anymore.
By home, she meant, of course, her mother's house. The home in which she grew up. The place which her ‘dead’ father's name was on the mortgage, and which the walls held many memories. Few of which were good.
You didn't have to be a genius to work out why she didn't live there, if she didn't have to.
Sometimes she felt bad about it. Her mother had tried to make it a home after Arthur ‘died’, but to Steph, she could always feel it. And his pictures being around didn't help. She understood loving someone, even if they weren't the easiest person to love, but… if she had a husband that ever did even one of the things Arthur did, she'd boot him out so fast he wouldn't know which was up, let alone if he laid a finger on any kids they may of had.
This was the thought process as she sat outside, in her Compact, in the driveway, jaw clenching rhythmically as she stared at the front door.
She didn't wanna have breakfast with her mother. At least. Not in the house. But she couldn't invite her to the Manor for breakfast. She wasn't ready to even start trying to explain that to anyone yet, let alone her mother. Their relationship wasn't the greatest, to say the least, but it wasn't from lack of Crystal trying.
Sighing slowly, she slowly gets out of the car, locking it remotely as she shut the door. Either because of the loud beeping, or the fact Crystal heard her pull up some time ago, the front door swung open before Stephanie was even halfway up the footpath, smiling at her.

“Well look who it is, my long lost daughter!”

Returning the smile, Steph raises a brow slightly.

“C'mon now, Mom, it hasn't been that long…”

“I dunno, Steph, Thanksgiving was a while ago now…”

Steph winced slightly, giving her mother a light hug.

“Yeah… guess it was… sorry…”

Draping her arm over Steph's shoulders, bringing her inside, shutting the door, and guiding her to the kitchen, Steph purposely avoiding looking at the pictures along the wall up the staircase as they pass it, Crystal gives her a light squeeze.

“Well, I noticed that after Thanksgiving, Batgirl was also missing from Gotham until the new year, so I figured you had a job from the Batman or something? It's not interfering with your studies too much is it?”

This was another reason she didn't want to come home. With Crystal knowing about her being Batgirl since the Black Mercy incident, she couldn't just act like a regular human. Slipping into her seat at the kitchen table, she awkwardly took a tissue and started folding it, to have something to do with her hands.

“Yeah, something like that. I can't really talk about the Bat stuff, Mom. But my studies are fine. Everything is fine. Just your average college kid, who saves lives sometimes. No big deal.”

“You've never been average, Steph… you're exceptional, and I wish I could tell people why I'm so proud of you. Even if I don't agree with it, I'm still proud of you for doing what you think is right.”

Crystal had her back to Stephanie now, focusing on the waffle iron. Of course she was making waffles. It was always going to be waffles. Closing her eyes for a minute, counting to three, she started shredding the tissue.

“Well, someone has to do what's right, you know?”

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Crystal tenses slightly, but ladles the first potential waffle into the iron, turning back to Steph.

“So, give me the goss. Any cute boys on campus? Dating? Whats going on with Stephanie Brown?”

She was clearly trying to change the topic, shift the mood. Steph snorted a laugh, raising a brow.

“I know where I get my horribly outdated dorkiness from at least. No, Mom, no cute boys on campus… and before you ask, no cute girls either.”

“I see you're avoiding the dating question though.”

Steph stood to get herself a coffee, making one for her mother as well to try to distract herself.

“Yup. Yup I am. Funny how that works.”

“.... is it one of your professors?”

Having taken a mouthful of coffee, Stephanie damn near choked on it, spluttering and staring at her mother incredulously.

“WHAT?!”

“Well… you've had a bit of a history of poor decision-making, and it wasn't that far of a leap…”

Narrowing her eyes slightly, she lets out a long, slow sigh, before taking another sip of her coffee.

“I said no to on campus, mother… not that you're a picture of brilliant decision-making…”

Crystal sipped at her coffee, eyes down, nodding slightly, before standing to take the waffle from the iron, and start the next one.

“I'm not that hungry, so one will be fine for me, thank you…”

Stephanie says softly, sweeping her shredded tissue into her hand, and into her pocket. Crystal murmured softly in acknowledgement.
Placing the waffle on a plate in front of her, drenched in syrup, Crystal watched Steph.

“I didn't mean that you…”

“Drop it, please, Mom. I know I don't have a great track record, ok?”

“Steph, I just-”

“Don't. Please. Let's just have our breakfast and move on with life, alright?”

It was taking everything Steph had to not explode. If she started, she wouldn't stop. And she wasn't sure if her mother could handle it. She had been clean and sober for a few years now, but who's to say that Steph exploding at her about… everything wouldn't cause a relapse. She didn't want to be responsible for that.
Picking up the set out cutlery, she took in a slow breath, counted to three, held it, counted to four, and let it out.
She noticed her mother had been staring at her.

“...I think your waffle might be ready, Mom…”

“Oh, right. Yes. Sorry. I was somewhere else there for a minute, sorry…”

After a moment, Crystal returned with her own waffle, and looked at Steph.

“...I worry about you, you know. I've lost you once. I've almost lost you since. This superhero business is scary for a parent.”

’Those are the times you know about.’

She thinks, starting to cut into the waffle, pursing her lips.

“I'm not a superhero, Mom. Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman… they're superheroes. I'm just… me. I watch Gotham, and I help where I can. I'm more like a sentient gargoyle than anything else.”

“You're a hero. You save lives.”

“So do nurses…”

She doesnt look up from her waffle to know she's made her mother flush. Maybe her mother's stupid ‘make things right with waffles’ idea wasn't so stupid after all.

“When do you wanna do breakfast next?”

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

04/06/2019 09:01 PM 

Brush With Death: Drabble

attention: | mentions: Brush With Deathwww.aniroleplay.com/DorkKnight
Groaning weakly, slumping against the smoke stack, Stephanie could hear the voices in her ears, through the comms, but she couldn't make out the words.
Too many voices, all yelling at her, at once.
She was sure she could get the gist of it. Something something reckless, some something half cocked, something something get yourself killed.
They'd be right on that last part. Her vision was getting spotty, fast. She had to remind herself to keep breathing. She wasn't going to even try to say anything about her condition, because judging by the yelling at her- probably an attempt to keep her awake, she thought, half amused, half regretful she was making them do this- that Oracle could tell by her vitals she was in rough shape.
Sinking down against the smoke stack, she fumbled for her first aid kit, hissing at her self, trying to stem the bleeding from the gash in side. Just so she was doing something.
It wasn't the gash she should have been worried about though. It was the toxin on the blade that slid through her suit, her supposedly knife proof suit, like butter.

“I hate assassins…”

She mumbles, head dropping forward.

“We really need to stop meeting like this…”

There is was. That voice. This time, Steph knew it wasn't a dream. And she wasn't afraid. Opening her eyes, she looked around. The first thing she noticed was the lack of the warm white glow. They were on the rooftop.
Frowning, Stephanie moved away from her body, looking down at it. It was disconcerting, to see herself so… well… dead. Sitting, one leg folded over the other, on the top of the smokestack, slowly twirling a parasol as it sat on her shoulder, top hat sitting on her knee, was, by now, and old friend. Death.

“One of the job hazards, sorry…”

Steph says softly, turning her attention back to herself, watching as the pool of blood at her side slowly grows beneath her.

“If you didn't go in alone, or withdrew the moment you got slashed…”

Steph sank into a squat, running her hands through her hair.

“Yeah, well. I didn't. I had a job to do. And I did it. So sue me…”

After a brief pause, she looked up at Death, who had turned her attention out to the Gotham skyline.

“Is this it for me then?”

“It might be. We will have to wait and see…”

“Wait and see for what? To see if I want to go back and fight again? Because that's a stupid question. I always want to fight.”

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Death laughed lightly, eyes still on the sky.

“We aren't waiting on you this time, sweetness. We're waiting on-ah! Right on time.”

Death slipped from the top of the smokestack and moved to be next to Stephanie's body, popping the top hat on her head with a little tap on the top of it, as the thud of heavy boots landed behind Steph. Turning to look behind her, she yelped slightly, as the form of the Bat barreled straight through her, or at least, where Death was allowing her to see things from, to her body. There were no words, only a slight growl, as her body was scooped up.

“Was… was he… not going to find me or something?”

Steph asks blankly, raising a brow, Death smiling almost as if to tease her slightly.

“The chance was always there…”

Rolling her eyes slightly, Steph folds her arms as her body was whisked away to, she presumed the Cave, for treatment.

“I'm starting to work out your game, D. If he wasn't gonna get here, you wouldn't be talking to me about it. I'd just be gone. We wouldn't be wasting time.”

Smiling at Stephanie and saying nothing, Death offered out her hand. Steph froze, eying it suspiciously, her confident declaration fading quickly.

“Is it time?”

Death tilted her head slightly, wiggling her fingers, hand still extended.

"Do you want it to be time?"

“... That doesn't answer my question, D.”

Smiling the reassuring, almost matronly smile, Death lowered her hand, indicating she was messing with Steph. "The people around you don't like letting go of you."

“Appart-f***ing-ly. That must piss off Destiny, or whatever.”

Steph runs her hands through her hair again, Death just smiles mysteriously.

“....Why is this my life. Why. I swear to god.”

"Are you going to change it?"

Steph was silent, looking at the small pool of her own blood.

"Didn't think so."

Death hands her a hairbrush, Steph blinks in confusion, looking at it as if it held some answers to lifes questions.

”What...?”

"It's your brush with death. Get a move on, Goldilocks."

Death grabs Steph by the shoulders, spins her, and shoves her from the rooftop.
She woke several hours later in the Batcave, with no reasonable explanation for how a hairbrush ended up in her utility belt.

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

04/05/2019 11:23 PM 

Dealing With Death: Drabble

attention: | mentions: Dealing With Deathwww.aniroleplay.com/DorkKnight
The gunshot piercing the night air wasn't anything new in Gotham, neither was the blood curdling scream that followed it. Two more shots rang out.
Steph was already on the move after the first, grapple in hand, launching herself from the rooftop with determination, firing the gas powered line to swing off in the direction of the scream, recklessly making use of free falls and cape glides to get there as quickly as possible.
It didn't sound good.
Dropping into a fire escape, below her, she saw two figures running from the alleyway, and below her, a teen boy, sinking down against the wall. Letting out a low frustrated growl, she swung herself over the railing and dropped down into the alleyway, while speaking into the comms.

“O, my location, heading east. Get them on cameras. Anything. I want them later. And get me paramedics as fast as you can. My buddy here is gonna need them.”

Turning her attention to the paling, wide eyed, sweating teen, she put her hand out to him.

“What's your name? Let me look at you. I'm gonna try to help you, alright?”

Taking her hand, she used this opportunity to look at the stomach wounds he had been holding, doing her very best Bruce impersonation and keeping her face as impassive as possible, to try to make him feel safe.

“Batgirl? Sh*t… my name is Aaron…”

Unsnapping her cape with her hand that Aaron didn't have, she laid it on the ground, and nodded towards it, hearing the clicking of the keys, indicating Oracle was working on her requests.

“Alright Aaron. Steady as it goes, lay down. I'm gonna take care of you until the paramedics get here. I want you to just keep talking to me, alright?”

Easing him down onto her cape, she didn't even flinch as his bloody hand moved to her shoulder, into her hair. Once Aaron was on the ground, Steph pulled out the small first aid kit from her belt pouches, unrolling it across his thighs, her brow creasing as she focused on trying to stem the bleeding.

“I had a dream kinda like this once. I wasn't shot though.”

Aaron grunts, as Steph resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“I'm sure you did, bud. Tell me. Is there burning on your insides? I know that sounds like a weird question after being shot, but…”

She looked up at him, seeing him nodding weakly, even more pale than before. Gritting her teeth, she puts his hand on her shoulder again.

“Keep a grip for me, ok? Can you do that? Tell me about that dream. O, where are my paramedics?!”

“They're still five minutes out, Steph, just hold on.”

“He doesn't have five minutes!”

She snapped, the grip on her shoulder non existent. Yanking one of her thick gauntlets off, Steph moved to feel for a pulse, Aaron's eyes half way between open and closed, glassy and unfocused.
It was there. Weak, but there. Just.
That's when Steph started CPR.

“Steph. Stephanie. The paramedics are thirty seconds out. Get out of there.”

The voice snapped her out of her mumbled counting haze, of rhythmic compressions, and puffs of breath. Scowling, she continued, ignoring her mentor, as the red and blue lights lit up the alleyway.
She didn't stop until the wheels of the gurney where next to her, and the hands of the other paramedic took over compressions.
Wordlessly, she stood, and helped shifting him to the gurney, watching as they wheeled him into the back of the ambulance, catching sight of the weak heart rate on the monitor before the doors shut.
Looking down at her bloody cape, she slowly bent down to pick it up, along with her gauntlet, and what was left of her first aid kit. Straightening up slowly, she closed her eyes and swallowed hard, feeling a familiar heaviness in her stomach.

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Death.
Letting out a choked sob, she disconnected her comms, and sunk down in the alleyway, against the wall, hugging her bundled cape.

“You did everything you could for him you know, Stephanie Brown. You didn't give up on him. You never give up on anything.”

A familiar voice. A voice she could have sworn was just a dream once. Looking up, on the fire escape, was the little Goth woman, ankh glinting in the low light.
Gritting her teeth slightly, turning her head away from her, Steph let out a low growl, pushing herself to her feet, blood now all down her front, as she shifted her grip on the cape.

“Why are you talking to me, and not comforting Aaron, or something? I'm not the dead one…. Am I…?”

She falters slightly, frowning, turning back to look at Death, who was now right next to her, making Steph jump a mile, and yelp, eliciting a small chuckle.

“No, Stephanie. You aren't the dead one. Aaron is well. I took his place this morning. Every year, I spend one day as a human who is destined to die, to remind myself what it is I do.”

Frowning slightly, Steph tilts her head, looking down at the blood all down herself, then back to Death.

“I was… trying to stop Death, from dying…”

“Indeed you were. Small world.”

Death smiles at Stephanie. That soft, warm smile, that reassures Stephanie again, as it did, years before hand.

“Who decides who lives and dies, though? You?”

She asks softly, frowning under her cowl. Death puts her hand on Steph's arm gently.

“No, I just do the living and dying part. Destiny and the Fates work out all the bits…”

Letting out a little grunt, Steph curls her lip in distaste.

“Tell Destiny I don't like them. Or the Fates.”

“I’m sure they already know. But, I'll let you do it yourself when it's your actual time to go, how's that sound? You might change your mind on them by then.”

Narrowing her eyes at Death suspiciously, Steph jabs at her with a finger.

“Know it all.”

Smiling at her, Death smooths a patch of the bloody hair at Steph's shoulder, brushing it back over her shoulder, to pat her shoulder lightly.

“You know how it is. Spoilers and all that.”

“WOW! OH WOW! No you did not. That's my joke. How dare you, madame. Death or no….”

“Well, you're very comforting to they dying, so, an eye for an eye, you know how it goes…”

Steph falls silent, before pulling the smaller woman into a hug, then quickly releasing, grimacing.

“Sorry, blood…”

Laughing as she was squeezed, and released, Death comes away clean. Looking down, Steph was no longer bloody. Before she could react in confusion, Death does it for her.

“Bloody magic, right? Klarion gives you a headache? Get back to it Batgirl. Your city needs you.”

Dumbfounded, Steph just nods, pulls her (now clean) cape and gauntlet on, grapples up onto the roof and reconnects the comms.

“Steph! What happened?!”

“Sorry O. Was dealing with Death. I should be good to go. Tell me you followed those guys…”

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

04/05/2019 10:20 PM 

What Happens In Death: Drabble

attention: | mentions: What Happens In Deathwww.aniroleplay.com/DorkKnight
She remembered being so scared. So scared, and so… tired. It didn't matter that Batman was sitting there, next to her, telling her almost everything she wanted to hear. She was scared, because she could feel it. Death was coming for her. She knew it.
She was sure Batman knew it too.
Why else would he be sitting here with the war going on outside. The war she caused.
Sitting here, telling her that of course she was really a Robin.

“I think I need to rest now…”

She mumbled. It wasn't what she wanted to say. She wanted to say more. Something else. Apologies for… well, everything. But she didn't have time. She felt it. She didn't want her last words to be something unfinished.

’Let me finish one thing properly in life… even if it is just a sentence…’

She thinks, her thoughts fading, eyes slipping shut.

“Hello, Stephanie.”

Her eyes snap open, all around her is white. Not blinding, or harsh, a dull, almost warm glow of white. Turning her head to her right, Stephanie finds the owner of the voice. A young woman, pale. Beautiful. Dressed, well, really cool, if we're being honest. Smiling at her softly.
Swallowing hard, Steph frowned slightly, before looking around again.

“Wh-where am I? What's happening?”

The kind smile didn't shift, it was genuine, patient. She had been through this countless times before, after all.

“Stephanie, I am Death. Right now, we are waiting.”

“Death? I…”

Steph paused, and nodded slowly. She didn't see a point in arguing with it. She knew what she just went through, after all.

“I felt it… I felt you coming. I could tell… what are we waiting for..?”

Death stood from the bench? seat? white mass they were both sitting on that blended into the rest of the surroundings, and slowly walked in front of Stephanie, slow, deliberate steps, lifting her legs much too high, almost like a playful marching stride, her hands clasped together behind her back.

“I know. One of your friends is going to try to revive you. We're waiting to see if you want to go back to that. After everything you just went though, life won't be the same for you. You can fight, or you can rest. You've done enough, Stephanie Brown. Spoiler, and Robin.”

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Steph watched as Death paraded before her, resting her hands on her chin, her elbows on her knees, blankly staring at Death's boots for a moment.

“...I don't think I'm done fighting yet, D…”

Raising her head, to look at the woman, now leaning on a parasol, also as black as the rest of her outfit, smiling at her still.

“... But you knew I'd say that, didn't you…?”

“You're a sharp one, Stephanie. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Of course I did. I just didn't think you should have been here alone while you were being revived. Being dead and alone can be traumatic. You didn't need anything else on top of today. Try not to see me again too soon though, alright?”

Now it was Steph's turn to smile, slightly. A weak, watery smile, as she got the her feet, wiping her eyes, moving to embrace Death.

“I make you literally no promises. I have no powers, and I work in Gotham.”

Giving the blonde a light squeeze, Death let out a soft laugh. It was a musical laugh.

“Oh, I know. But I also know that you're not going to be here for a while.”

Stephanie tilted her head in confusion, then shook her head slightly, before letting go of the hug.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Where's the scythe and cloak?”

Laughing again, putting her hand on the top of Stephanie's chest, she gives her a light push backwards, enough to knock her back out through the wall of white, answering as she does.

“I ditched it after a few hundred years. It got cliché. I'm sure you understand clichés.”

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

04/02/2019 12:36 PM 

Study Day: Drabble

attention: | mentions: Study Daywww.aniroleplay.com/DorkKnight
Campus cafe.
Not the greatest place, but not the worst. Decent coffee. Got her through the day. After food could have been better.
Tuesday, her off day for the semester, but Steph still left the house, still did daytime human things, lest she throw her entire rhythm out of whack.
She didn't need to pull a Tim and crash somewhere unfortunate, and knowing her, it would likely be mid grapple.
That would be a mess.
Literally.
The cafe was quiet this time of day. Perfect for her purpose.
It would have been a surprise to people to know that Stephanie actually studied. Put work into things. Sitting with one leg folded over the other, face set in concentration, one hand bracing the textbook against the edge of the table, the other moving between her pen where she would absently jot down shorthand, Stephanie only decipherable notes, and her coffee mug, she could have been a stock photo graph. The only thing missing were a pair of glasses.
Raising her cup to her lips, she raised her eyes to the commotion on the other side of the cafe. A dark haired female was being very clearly harassed by two guys that followed her from off campus.
Narrowing her eyes slightly, Stephanie realised it wasn't just some brunette, but Jordanna.
Setting down her cup, and on her feet before she knew what she was even doing, she was across the cafe quickly.

“Hey, Jordanna, new friends?”

She asked cheerfully, and the look on her FriendButNotFriends face said it all. They were not.

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
“Oh hey, this one's cute too.”

The idiot in red spoke first, as Jordanna brushed past them and to Steph, who held out her hand, which was taken, and latched on to like a lifeline, while Steph turned her well practiced deadpan unimpressed stare on them.

“Oooh, I get it now… you two… makes sense why she didn't want either of us…”

Letting out a slow, drawn out sigh, looked behind her to the staff.

“Hey, would you mind calling the police? Maybe an ambulance too? These morons might need one in a minute…”

They had been frozen in shock until that point, unsure what to do. Upon given direction, a quick nodding, movement started. The moron in green began to speak.

“What exactly do you think you're gonna do, Blondie?”

He grabbed her shoulder, while she was still facing the staff, and Jordanna. Looking at Jordanna, she raised a brow slightly, and tilted her head.

“Did he just?”

“... I think he did…”

She responded, looking at the hand on Steph's shoulder. Nodding slowly, she grabbed the pinky finger, and snapped it backwards.
There was a pause. Jordanna gasped. Green shirt screamed. Red shirt screamed. Steph pushed Jordanna backwards about five feet in anticipation for what came next.
Red shirt lunged at her. She considered leapfrogging, but she didn't want to be too Batgirl right now, so she sidestepped, grabbed the back of his shirt, and spun him head first into the edge of the table.
He crumpled. Green shirt still held at his hand whimpering. Steph pointed at the ground.

“Sit. And stay there until the police show up.”

And so he did.
Steph actually hung around too, instead of doing her programmed thing of disappearing, and gave a statement to the police, and she made sure Jordanna was ok. She was. You know. For Jordanna.
Letting out a sigh she went back to her seat, her long cold coffee and her lost place in her book, picking it up, trying to find where she left off from.

“Thank you Stephanie. Oh, no worries Jordanna. It's no big deal…”

She grumbled into the cup, taking a sip of the cold coffee with a sigh.
All in a days work.

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

04/01/2019 01:31 PM 

Shenanigans: Drabble

attention: | mentions: Shenaniganswww.aniroleplay.com/DorkKnight
It had dawned on her that she had been taking this 'Bat Business's far too serious lately. She had been stalking the city for nights on end, staring at the screen of the infernal Batcomputer unblinking for what felt like hours, being much more Bat and much less Batgirl, so much so that she caught herself glaring at someone for daring to laugh around her.
That just wasn't right.
That was down right messed up.
She loved the great brooding bastard, but she didn't want to BE him. Good god. She still had joy in her soul.
Hell, she still had a SOUL, full stop.
Suiting up, and switching out some of the gear in her pouches, she felt the slow grin creeping across her face. She almost felt like calling Klarion, to amplify what she was planning, but she quickly shut that idea down, knowing that would turn into something she would have to clean up, involving some sort of monster, likely, instead of harmless chaos.
She sometimes forgot how different the levels of chaos they were on were.
Shaking her head, she hit the city.
It was time for Operation: Steph Was Getting Too Grump Bat, And Needs To Mess Sh*t Up. (It's a working title, ok?)
Stop one was a bunch of thugs in an alleyway, planning on jumping an unsuspecting 'opposing gang member'. (They were like, 16. She highly doubted they were actually involved with any real gangs.)
Clearing her throat loudly from her vantage point on the roof above them, she dropped a handful of her gooparang pods in the middle of them, followed by one of the boobytrapped smoke bombs she had been hoping Bruce had picked up, which had been conveniently worked around.

GOOP
PAFF

The smoke dissipated, the group stood stuck, held in place by her green rubber cement, coated in glitter.

“Stick around, fellas, ok?”

Grinning down at her handiwork, exaggeratedly chefs kissing, she lept the alleyway, and continued on, for her next target.
Target two was gloriously, Riddler.
Sliding up to the window of his apartment, knocking on it with a knuckle, she waved enthusiastically as he jumped, startled while he was watching what she assumed was some quiz show, because of course he would be. Seeing it was the blonde Batgirl, he glowered at her, and opened his window.

“What do you want, Miss Brown. I can assure you, I've been following the terms of my parole. And I won't be inviting you in, not after the last time.”

Grinning, she sank down to sit on the windowsill, nodding casually.

“Of course not, Eddie, I understand entirely. I was in the wrong. I was trying to come to terms with my father being dead. Which he isn't, by the way. Apparently we Browns don't do dead very well. But I'm here to ask you something.”

She paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing at her, but curiosity getting the better of him, as she knew it would.

“... Go on…”

As earnestly as she could, she tilted her head, she tilted her head, and pouted, looking genuinely wounded.

“Why don't I get invited to dinners?”

There was a pause, he blinked in confusion, shaking his head slightly.

“Wh-I?”

“Is it because I'm a supper hero?”

She starts breaking into a grin, watching the confusion turn to fury, as she cackles, firing her grapple before she could be pushed out of the window, dropping another glitter filled smoke bomb as she does.

“Be good, Eddie!”

She calls, swinging away.

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
She was starting to feel a lot more like herself. There was one more thing left to do. And it had been a long while since she had done anything like it. But this time it was the big time. She needed to make a pit stop first.
Swinging by the Sprang Bridge underpass, where her old friends, her old misfit crew were, she made here Batgirl presence known, holding up a hand as people looked too scatter.
For the first time in a very long time, she used her vocal scrambler, before speaking.

“Relax. I'm not here for you lot, you should know that by now. I just want all the purple paint you have.”

After a moment of silence, one spoke up.

“What makes you think we have any paint, let alone purple…?”

Taking a flashlight from her belt pouches, Steph flicked it on, and pointed it directly at a still dripping set of tags, raising a brow.

“I don't have to be the world's greatest detective, Liam. Fork it over.”

Flinching internally at using his name, and seeing the flicker of surprise on his face, she shut off the flashlight, and was surprised by the amount of purple paint that was brought before her. Picking up just a paint can and a brush, she gave a salute. Turning to leave, Liam spoke again.

“Wait. How'd you know my name…?”

“Bats know everything.”

She says quickly, as if it was simple, he nods, frowning slightly.

“Of course. Makes sense. And… thanks, for keeping an eye out for us…”

Half smiling, she turned and left, heading to GCPD HQ.
Hunkering low on the roof, she waited for any officers taking a smoke break to head back indoors before her masterpiece.
She was currently the Bat in Gotham, after all… shouldn't the signal represent that?

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

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