〚𝔻𝕠𝕣𝕜 𝕂𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥〛

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September 15th, 2019




Gender: Female

Age: 27
Country: United States

Signup Date:
November 23, 2018


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07/14/2019 03:45 PM 

Shower Thoughts: Drabble

attention: | mentions: Shower Thoughtswww.aniroleplay.com/DorkKnight
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 with ’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 Alfred 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.
None 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.<

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
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 Al? You available for a shoulder relocation? It’s been a long night…”

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

06/07/2019 11:28 PM 

Why Do It?:Drabble

attention: | mentions: Why Do It?www.aniroleplay.com/DorkKnight
“Stephanie?”

Raising her eyes from the plate of syrup, the remnants of the breakfast she was now swirling with her fork, Stephanie looked at her mother, who was staring at her expectantly.

“Hm? I’m sorry, Mom, I didn’t hear what you said. I was… somewhere else.”

Crystal pursed her lips slightly, and stood.

“I asked if you were finished.”

“Oh, yes, thank you. Sorry.”

Taking the plate, Crystal moved across the kitchen, putting the dishes on top of the others in the sink, before pushing up her sleeves.

“Leave it, Mom, I’ll do them.”

Turning to stare at Steph, she shrugged, and made a ‘be my guest’ motion at the sink, before moving and making coffee, as the younger Brown rolled her eyes and moved to the sink, running hot water onto the dishes. Once the sink had water enough in it for Steph to wash the dishes, she started, dipping her hands into the straight hot water, Crystal watching in concern.

“Steph, honey…”

“It’s fine, Mom. I don’t have a whole lot of feeling in my hands. Relax.”

Seeing this as probably her only opportunity to get Steph to talk about her ‘work’, Crystal took the opening.

“Is that from when you… died?”

“Mostly… I have a lot of nerve damage from that one actually. I have the pictures if you're ever up for it…”

She absently cleaned the plate. Pre-coffee and autonomous work was a good way to get Steph to talk, apparently. Being close to her probably helped.

“... but you know, also punching people in the face all the time probably doesn't help either…”

“Stephanie, why would you have those pictures. Thats ghoulish.”<

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
“Because sometimes, I have to talk people out of trying to do the ‘dress up and try to be a hero thing’ too, and a tortured to death teenage girl does that pretty quick. They don’t need to know Batgirl and Spoiler are the same person.”

A pause. The coffee maker, and Stephs scrubbing the only sounds.

“That makes sense, I suppose… But. With your dad gone, why do you still do it?”

Setting the second plate in the draining rack, she turned to face her mother, frowning slightly, as if thinking.

“Well. Just because our problem is solved doesn’t mean there aren’t others I can’t solve. Do you stop helping a doctor the second your shift is over, or do you stop helping when you're done?”

Crystal Brown, trauma nurse, nodded, following what her daughter was saying.

“This city might seem bleak, and grimy. But I believe in the people in it. People are good. Can do good. Look at… Bruce Wayne. He could be a broody, people hating shut in, after what happened with his parents. But all the charity work, and good he does for the city. He believes in it. And adopting a small army of bad luck boffins, just like him? Basically, Mom? You don’t give up on Gotham, and it won’t give up on you.”

“You always do try to look for the good, don’t you, Steph?”

“It’s that or I’m angry about everything. That’s what I got going for me. Sickening positivity or righteous fury. Is that coffee ready yet? I got like, twelve minutes of sleep last night.”

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

06/07/2019 10:08 PM 

CIA: Drabble

attention: | mentions: CIAwww.aniroleplay.com/DorkKnight
Perched next to one of the hundreds of snarling stone guardians that stood watch over the city, wind gusts caught between the buildings whipping the blonde hair and cape around her frame.
The patrol had been quiet tonight, which, for once, she was ok with, because she wasn't exactly in the mood to do her job with this suit tailing her.
He thought he was slick, but she noticed him hours ago. Slowly straightening up, she knew she could easily lose the suit. Slip his tracking easily. But she wanted to know what he wanted.
Moving up on top of the building, she easily disguised herself in the shadows, slipping around to ground, and behind the Suit, and his car, squinting through some night vision binoculars.
With a knuckle, Stephanie rapped on the window next to his head, leaning down to look in at him, grinning broadly, causing him to jump a mile.

"Can I help you, sir?"

After taking a minute to recover, he rolled the window down, and looked at her.

"Uh… Batgirl? I'm uh, Agent Williams, with the CIA."

"You must be new. You're not very good at tailing or surveillance, Agent. I had you clocked about five minutes after I started patrol."

"Well, I usually handle recruitment, not surveillance."

Frowning slightly, the Batgirl raises a brow skeptically.

"Recruitment. For the CIA. Me? You don't even know who I am."

"Actually. You're the only Bat we do know. Get in and we'll have this talk."

Reflexively, she responded.

"My father always said to never get in cars with strangers. Show me some ID first, buddy."

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he shifted to the side, reaching for his ID, then handing it to her. Scrutinising it, and handing it back when satisfied, the blonde moved around to the passenger side door, checked the child look wasn't on, then got in.

"Arthur Brown would have never said that to you, Stephanie…"

Agent Williams says, as his window rolls back up, Stephanie blinking once.

"Who?"

"Don't play dumb. Spoiler, then there's a blonde Robin. Then the blonde Robin or Spoiler, whatever was going on at the time 'dies', the exclusive story with Aaron Black about Stephanie Brown, the Spoiler, Robin, airs, talking about it. Then a year later. Spoiler is back in Gotham? And a blonde Batgirl with purple on her suit pops up not long after? And Stephanie Brown is miraculously back from the dead and in college?"

Steph, no stranger to this attack at this point, tilts her head.

"Even if that was the case, why would you want to recruit a nineteen year old girl?"

The silence in the car was palpable for a beat.

"Why wouldn't we?! You're trained by Batman! You have so much to teach us."

Tilting her head and squinting slightly, she frowned, before shaking her head.

"You know what. Sure. F*** it. Why not. I’ll play this game. You’ll want me to jump through some hoops, right?”

“There’s physicals, and some basic exams, which I’m sure you’ll ace.”

Snorting dismissively, she shook her head and leant back in the seat, before speaking into her comms.

“Apparently I’m heading on a road trip. No need to panic, or to send Broody-boots in or whatever.”

Looking to the driver, she folded her arms and nodded.

“For your wellbeing more than mine. It wouldn’t be my bones getting broken in the misunderstanding, after all.”

“R-Right….”

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
It wasn’t that much of a drive.
Did you know Gotham had an field office for the CIA? Because Stephanie sure didn’t. Being lead inside by Williams, as he went through the metal detector, she laughed bitterly.

“Oh, fellas. If you think I’m taking off, or handing over any of my belts to any of you, you’re in for a bad time. This thing is gonna go off. And I’m not stopping.”

The stationed security looked from the Batgirl, to the Agent with her, back to her, then waved her through, wincing at the shrill beeping.
It was still sounding as they moved down the hall, to the elevators. Pressing the call button for down, Steph carefully assessed her exits, just in case.

“So… Tests huh? I really don’t like written exams, so I hope it’s multiple choice.”

She says absently, causing Williams to crack a smile.

“They’re actually all physical based. The higher ups from Washington don’t believe that one of the Robins would be an asset to us.”

Stepping into the elevator as it arrived, Steph folded her arms across her chest again. “I guess that makes sense. And I’m the one that can be found… Hate to burst your bubble there, chief, but uh, I’m considered one of the failed Robins around the cave. So let’s hope this goes your way. This was your idea after all, wasn’t it? Since you were sent out to get me…”

“....For a ‘failed Robin’ you're still better than half the recruits we have by the time they graduate. And you’re nineteen.”

She pulls a face, something between discomfort, and disgust.

“It’s nothing special. Hang around the World’s Greatest Detective long enough, you pick up a thing or two.”

“There might be one test you could have a problem with though, speaking of Batman. Firearms…”

The corner of her lips twitch upwards for a split second, and she says nothing, and the elevator doors slide open, to a sublevel, to a room full of men and women of various shapes and sizes in fighting stances.
Steph tilts her head.

“Lemme guess. Test one. How fast can this lot be neutralized?”

A murmur of confirmation from Williams, as they both step from the elevator.
She almost felt bad for them. She was sure they didn’t know it was a Bat coming for them. She didn’t change her tune just because there were suits watching. Her chaotic dance was still in play. The taunting, the quipping, the playing with them. She could have dealt with them all much sooner. She knew it. They knew it. The Suits knew it. It changed nothing.
Stepping away unscathed, she smoothed her cape dramatically.

“Next.”

A roller shutter rose, revealing a set of targets at different intervals. Grinning slowly, she walked to the mark, as Williams moved to her side, with a handgun case.

“We don’t know if-”

“Buddy. Have you seen what we use to get around the city?”

“A grapple gu-oh. Right. Yes.”

“The rule is don’t use guns, not can’t use guns.”

Fitting the clip into the grip, making sure the slide was clear, Steph fired three shots, before dismantling the gun, faster than Williams even opened the case and gave it to her.

“That should answer that one, right?”

With the targets reeled in, the shots proved true, dead center of the forehead.
Three men, and a woman in a sharp pantsuit made themselves known to Batgirl and Williams. The woman was the one to speak.

“It would seem Agent Williams isn’t a crazy cape fanboy after all. That was quite something, Batgirl.”

Frowning, Steph folded her arms across her chest.

“That was it? That was the tests? I expected running miles, and torture.”

“We understand that you can already handle those things, or else we would all know who the Batman is by now.”

With a noncommittal grunt in response, Steph let out a sigh.

“Well. This was… Something. I might consider this as an option if the Bat ever fires me again. But I don’t do real well with taking orders. And you look like you're about to start trying to give me orders. I’m gonna have to pass.”

“Oh, you can’t just walk out of here, Miss Brown.”

“Sure I can. Me just walking in here in my suit gave Oracle remote access to all the systems. Oracle has everything now. Can’t blackmail me. I’ll blackmail you. Later, Gators.”

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

05/26/2019 10:18 PM 

Radio Batgirl: Drabble

attention: | mentions: Radio Batgirlwww.aniroleplay.com/DorkKnight
“Steph, I don’t understand your whole ‘Radio Batgirl’ thing. What is the point of being that annoying, and disruptive over comms?”

Barbara looked at her in the reflection of the monitor, Steph about three seconds away from pulling her cowl on, blinking at her in confusion from the question that had nothing to do with anything they had been previously talking about, coming from nowhere.

“Well… I guess I must have started it when you were off with the Birds… I was struggling on patrol one night. I was almost pulling a Tim and crashing mid swing, and I needed to keep myself awake… so I started singing to myself. But I left my comms open-”

“As you do”

Babs interjected, raising a brow, Steph nodding in agreement, very aware of the fact she had a habit of leaving her comms open.

“As I do, and the Gremlin said no-one in Gotham asked for Radio Batgirl. So I made it a thing. Simply to annoy him. And I know it annoys Bruce too, because I’m misusing the comms. But what’s he gonna do about it? Ground me? Then I’ll just play actual music through the comms, and he knows it.”

She pulls her cowl down over her head, as Oracle shakes her head, a small smile on her lips.

“Well, just so you know, your comms are live right now.”

“Oh, I know. It’s gonna be a good night. I feel real bad for your ears, O, I’m gonna be shrill. Real shrill.”

“Oh god no…”

And with that, Batgirl left the Clocktower, grinning to herself. She hadn’t even reached downtown before she started humming to herself.
She was twenty minutes into her patrol before she realised that she hadn’t been humming along to nothing. She could hear music. It was faint. But she could definitely hear music. Familiar, ‘I play this in cave when no-one else is around is almost certainly one of my Spotify playlists’ music.
It seemed that Oracle was getting in ‘Radio Batgirl’ game as well.
A slow grin spread across her face, and when she came across the next street security camera, Stephanie motioned at it for the volume to be turned up. It seemed the Batgirls were on the same wavelength, as the volume slowly increased.
Then the singing started. Purposely out of tune, on Stephs behalf, and just there for support from Barbara.


"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
”There might be something outside your window
But you'll just never know
There could be something right past the turnpike gates
But you'll just never know
If my velocity starts to make you sweat
Then just don't let go
And if the heaven ain't got a vacancy
Then we just, then we just, then we just, then we just
Get up and go
Ladies and gentleman, truth
Is now acceptable fame
Is now injectable process the progress
This core is critical faith
Is unavailable lives
Become incredible now
Please understand that-”

Even when driving her fist into the face of a mugger, the blonde bat didn’t miss a beat.

”I can't slow down,
I won't be waiting for you,
I can't stop now because I'm dancing
This planet's ours to defend
Ain't got no time to pretend
Don't f*** around, this is our last chance
If my velocity starts to make you sweat
Then just don't let go
'Cause the emergency room got no vacancy
And we just, and we just, and we just, and we just,
Get up and go
they want you to be
(who) they wanted to see
(go) kill the party with me and never go home
Who they want you to be
Who they wanted to see
Just leave the party with me and never go home
You're unbelievable
Ah, so unbelievable
Ah, you ruin everything
Oh, you better go home
I'm unbelievable-”

Singing and roof running is excellent cardio. If nothing else, she was annoying, and in shape.

”Yeah, I'm undefeatable
Yeah, let's ruin everything, blast it to the back row
They sell presentable
Young, and so indigestible
Sterile and collectible
Safe, and I can't stand it
This is a letter, my word
Is the beretta, the sound of my vendetta
Against the ones that planned it
If my velocity starts to make you sweat
Then just don't let go
'Cause the emergency room got no vacancy
Tell me who do you trust, do you trust, and we just
We just get up and go
Who they want you to be
Who they wanted to see
(Go) kill the party with me and never go home
Who they want you to be
Who they wanted to see
Just leave the party with me and never go home-”

She almost swore she heard D*ck join in.

”You keep eternity, give us the radio
Deploy the battery, we're taking back control
Engage the energy, light up the effigy
No chance to take it slow
By now I'm sure you know, know, know, know, know (one, two, three, four)
Get up and go
they want you to be
(Who) they wanted to see
(Go) kill the party with me and never go home
Who they want you to be
Who they wanted to see
Just leave the party with me and never go home
Are we still having fun?
Are you holding the gun?
Take the money and run
We'll never go home
I've got nothing to lose
You've got nothing to say
And we're leaving today
We'll never go home
I think I better go now
I think I better go now
I think I better go now (go home)
Gonna go now, gonna go now, gonna go now, gonna go now
Go now, gonna go now
Go home”

A frustrated growl came over the comms.

“Are you done?”

Spotting the owner of the voice two rooftops over from her, she didn’t even need to get out her binoculars or have Oracle tell her that the Bat was glaring at her. Grinning widely, she just cocked her head to the side slightly.

“I’m just getting started.”

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

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

[ This blog post is private ]

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

[ This blog post is private ]

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

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