#bababsgordon

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Back at It

“There’s my favorite super-scout! How have you been!”

Honestly Barbara couldn’t remember the last time she had seen her friend from the other side of the news reel. Kara had been spending so much time making a name for herself that it almost made the blonde seem like she lived on a different planet entirely. 

Well, she had come from Krypton- but that was another matter entirely.

( @chosexearth )

[thedoctornumber11]

Starter for bababsgordon

((OOC: @bababsgordon))

The Doctor had never visited Gotham city and had heard many stories about it.  He decided as much as he had heard, he might as well pay it a visit and so he walked out of his TARDIS and into the city, not that surprised to see someone flying on a rope above him.

“Interesting,” he thought as he then heard a loud noise coming from a near by building.  Some sort of alarm.  He saw the figure from before headed towards it.  He could tell it was a female, dressed a bit like a bat.

“Well, this should be interesting,” he grinned as he went to check it out.  He saw several masked men with guns.  One of them had two machine guns.

“This doesn’t look good,” he thought as he now saw the woman approach.

[bababsgordon-blog]

I guess the world may never know.

[bababsgordon-blog]

Unlikely Aid

@tradicans

‘Flowers for All Occasions’

An elegant sign hung above the door with a repose that was nothing shy of resplendent. That was to say, everything about the business’ store front appeared picturesque from every angle.

From the way that the shop’s letters curled and swept up into one another before branching off into leaves and floral accents that while colorful, proved not to be too distracting to the eye- to the earthen-toned shutters and cobblestone pathway that led up to the main entrance from the street, everything about the building seemed ethereal.  

Which, on some level, only acted to heighten the feeling of guilt that nagged at her senses.

Barbara Gordon had always thought herself to be a law-abiding citizen. At least, as much so as any self-proclaimed vigilante could adhere to the conscripts of law and order whilst meanwhile acting above their everyday station in the highest self-governing authority. But, well… that was something else entirely.

From where the masked woman was perched across the alleyway from Gotham’s most exotic up-and-coming greenery, she realized that the full irony of her current situation was not entirely lost on her.

Here, Doctor Pamela Isley, PHD and former ecoterrorist (to the nth degree) had established a new name for herself. Not as Poison Ivy, a spurned advocate for all that mother nature intended, but as a scientist again. This time, hanging up the lab coat to nurture plant life for those refined enough to appreciate it as she did, while also beginning to publish new works on her findings. Albeit, the papers were few and far between, but such was the nature of Ms. Isley’s condition. Until her reform, people had never really been her forte, although argument could be made that the human condition had not grown on her any more in recent years than it had in her murkier past dealings.

And now, in repayment of her fresh start, Batgirl found herself with every intention of breaking and entering into the former villainess’ new fortress. Babs clicked her tongue as she continued to scope out her entrance plan in the twilight darkness.

To be fair, she needed a consult with the doctor, and she didn’t exactly have an after-hours contact for the botanist. Nevertheless, their numerous encounters in the past should have been enough reason for the head-strong redhead to reevaluate her options. She knew what the scientist was capable of, even If she claimed to be free of her previous inclinations.

Above all else, however, this was not a social visit.

Shiloh Iqbal, president of Myriad Science Pharmaceuticals had only been in Gotham for a week, cycling through closed-door meetings and vying for financial support of his newest pet project had been found dead in his office not more than an hour earlier. The distress call had lasted a mere 13 seconds before the line had fallen silent, as listless as he had proven to be when Babs had finally managed to reach him.

Despite his ripe age of 52, heart attack had seemed unlikely. Despite the first responder’s earliest suspicion. Although, given the fact that the first responders had arrived second to the scene, Barbara could understand where first second glance may have offered up cardiac arrest as the most likely cause of death.

They hadn’t found the calling card.

Folded almost tenderly into the palm of his upturned palm the masked maiden had discovered a flower, so innocent that she almost didn’t dare move it. Even without sunlight it’s demure periwinkle coloring had glistened with a strange incandescent sheen. As she had moved it delicately into a small evidence bag the petals shifted into something deeper- close to blood-red magenta that held her gaze captive. Enough to know that this was not something you could find in your local supermarket bouquet.

And so, she had secured it away in her belt and made her way across town to the only specialist she knew might have an inkling on the matter. Bringing her here, in this moment, to a brisk April rooftop, overlooking the same specialist’s shop- planning a less-than-lawful entry.

In the end, it was the desire for answers that overpowered her guilt, and Barbara made her way across the alleyway with a ballerina’s poise, pausing only a moment to gauge the evening’s response before moving with the same fluidity onto the greenhouse rooftop beyond.

While she hadn’t expected any of the greenhouse windows to yield without a fuss, it didn’t take more than a few moments before she had managed to rig one open at the latch with one of the more useful multi-tools in her arsenal. As she eased the ceiling panel open enough to allow herself room for entrance, the woman exhaled deeply- allowing herself one final opportunity for fresh air before plummeting into the lion’s den below.

Landing in a gentle roll, the youthful Gordon began to take in her new surroundings with bated breath as new thoughts began to invade her conscious. Although Pamela had claimed reform, perhaps she could have planned an entrance with less hostility. After all, the woman had never taken kindly to strangers approaching her children without her consent.

“Shit.” Babs cursed wordlessly. Maybe it would have been worth the effort of trying to make her way in through a shop window, rather than the greenhouse itself.

At this point, only one question remained: would it prove more advantageous to announce her presence, or to attempt to skulk into a less private area of the establishment?

Thinking better of startling her unwitting host, Babs began to move through the rows of potted and soiled plants, taking no stock of their inventory as she made careful note to avoid them at any cost. If she could only make it to the side door beyond- it seemed to open into an outdoor garden, an area presumably more open and welcome to her intrusion. If she could only make it there, maybe then she would truly be safe to introduce herself.

(Let me just say thank you for all of your patience. Not only has life been demanding recently, but I have wasted too-much time overthinking this starter already. While it may not be the gem that I had hoped, I had to finally bite the bullet and hope it will suffice.)

[bababsgordon-blog]

PSA:

I know to some it already couldn’t be clearer, but I’m something of a late bloomer so please hear me out:

I’ve recently learned that the art to having fun with your writing on Tumblr is not to over-think it, but to give it what you’ve got and learn to live with the occasional shit-posts.

They happen; to everyone.

It’s all about riding it out and writing around.

So to that I say:

It’s time to go full-throttle again! The muse is back, baby!

So come on and hit me with your best shot.

[bababsgordon-blog]

Starter for Red-Hoodlum

ooc: Sorry it’s a bit lengthy. I added a spacer ‘ --- ‘ so if you need me to I would be more than willing to re-write anything below the line to avoid stepping on your toes. I look forward to (hopefully) a beautiful collaboration and partnership.

bic:

(Some Background: Barbara Gordon is 26 and recently recovered from a highly-risky procedure funded anonymously by Bruce Wayne in order to regain use of her legs following her paraplegia during The Killing Joke. She spent nearly two years during her time as Oracle- Gotham’s IT protector, supporting the Birds of Prey and personally honing Stephanie Brown in as Batgirl. Following the lengthy physical therapy process, however, she is finally ready- against everyone else’s better judgement- to return to the Gotham City streets in her cape and cowl. Steph has returned to her former position as the Spoiler, and for better- or worse, a slightly darker, and more determined Batgirl has returned to reclaim her title.)

The last year had been, in a word- brutal.

The look in her father’s eyes alone when he had learned not only that his only flesh and blood was going to undergo a surgery with a far higher rate of failure than success- and learning that the decision had been made long before he had been given the chance to utter a word against it had been the first in a long line of hurdles for Barbara.

Her father himself, Gotham City’s now Commissioner Gordon, had always professed somewhere between a sigh and a grunt, that the main trait his daughter had shared with her long absent mother (aside from the fiery crimson hair) had been her stubbornness. And when the stakes were at their highest, Barbara Gordon had always been known to commit to the least favorable fight. Perhaps some of that spitfire had come from him as well-  although with the growing distance between them following the incident that had left her paralyzed from the waist down nearly three years earlier, it had become even harder to distinguish.

Her time in a wheelchair had left the former crime-fighter more meticulous, and more determined, than she ever imagined she could be to maintain her role in the bat family, even if she had the tendency to keep herself at a distance. As Oracle she had learned that she had been granted more power than ever to tug the cords central to Gotham’s defense- to keep an eye over the city from her perch in the Watchtower, while simultaneously managing to avoid the guilty gaze that Bruce cast away from her whenever he was forced to confront the chair, and the former crime fighter contained within it.

While the life of Oracle and it’s anonymities had in themselves possessed a certain charm, there was a distant thrill that lingered unmatched by anything other than the adrenalines that could be attained moving through the evening skyline in a hood and a cape- wearing the dusk like a fine satin gown. Much to the resounding protest of her colleagues, Bruce, Alfred, Steph, and Dinah primarily, Babs had donned a newer version of her old costume and returned to her old stomping ground. The autumn air was crisp, and dry, pungent in ways that were very much familiar, and new all at the same time. Darkened clouds on the horizon flecked Gotham’s sister-city Bludhaven with echoes of thunder and flickers of lightening, strengthening the anxious knot that had formed in the pit of her stomach.

The city, although disinterested in her and her exploits, felt oddly familiar in its beaconing depths. A welcoming familiarity that called to Babs on her watch, although gave her pause at the same time. She knew what she had continued to insist- that her physical therapy was at its end, that she was ready to resume her duties. But a nagging voice in her head continued to persist ‘Are you sure? How can you know?”

---

Taking a deep breath, Barbara Gordon pushed the voice aside, choosing instead to focus on the evening’s latest venture. One that had proved so elusive, and so new that even the Dark Knight himself had been remaining on the defensive, gathering intel on Gotham’s newest combatant.

The bay side’s formerly unrivaled kingpin Black Mask had a month earlier entered into a turf war with a seemingly unconnected band of robberies and attacks by a man, or perhaps series of men- that had only made themselves identifiable by a common thread: a red mask. Or red hood as Babs had heard Bruce call it. Something about the icon had seemed to shake Bruce at his core, in a way that Barbara could not recall having seen in a good many years. But his hesitance did nothing to deter Batgirl from the challenge. Only so much credible intel could be gleaned from a distance, and after the past three years- she could use the opportunity to stretch her legs.

From her hiding place above the Gotham Wharf, Babs committed to her post, watching for any signs of the latest heist that she had heard whisperings of on the street in the days previous. While rumors of the mysterious red-hooded maniac were many and unsound, the common thread she had found had been the date and the location of the man’s next move against Black Mask. So as a result, there Barbara found herself, seeking credibility in her unknowing sources. Seeking thrill after her lengthy hiatus from the cowl. Ready or not- Batgirl was ready to shake Gotham with her latest debut, and anybody-be-damned who didn’t think she would be able to return with a bang.

[bababsgordon-blog]

birdb0yw0nder started following bababsgordon

Hey.

You just can’t stay away, can you?

(@birdb0yw0nder )

[bababsgordon-blog]

A New Day

ooc; Sorry for the delay, just had some difficulty drawing all of the right strings into place. But here is a new starter and a continuation of our previous.

bic: @red-hoodlum

The previous evening seemed a blur as Barbra awoke, surprised by the surrealness of the situation as she came-to in her own bed. Wait- her own bed? If she weren’t so groggy, fighting against the sunshine beating through her bedroom blinds, Barbara would have kicked off the covers in a panic the likes of which were only heard of in movies or on television. Slowly she attempted to piece everything together, she had gone on patrol- or had she? Really after so long in physical therapy and on bed rest it was hard to be certain. She had run her routine patrol, talked to Dinah? And then… The shadow, and the explosion! She wasn’t creative enough to have dreamed anything so fantastical, it had to have been real. However, how could she manage to prove it? When her sensation found her again, Babs began to unfurl the layers from her mattress, startled to find that the only proof she needed had been there all along. Here she was, head-to-toe in Kevlar and various black materials- and she knew, she had been out the night before. (Although not in the traditional twenty-something sense.) She hadn’t had much time to process anything before a loud bang, and a series of curses resounded from the kitchen beyond. Followed by the reassuring tones of a softer, gentler- presumably female voice. There was not one, but two strangers in her apartment. Albeit, following her surgery and recovery, Babs had opted to keep the watchtower as her own and maintain its status as a bachelorette pad, which made her home virtually inhabitable by any of the usual suspects from her time spent as Oracle- scarcely had she ever had company in the middle of the day. 11:15 as the clock on her nightstand read. And even rarer did her watchtower have occupants in the middle of the day without her knowing to expect them. With a sudden burst of adrenaline, Barbara got to her feet, tip-toed over to her bedroom door, and attempted to make out any other discernable noises from the rooms beyond. Other than the minor thumping of cabinets or padding of bare feet on hardwood, Babs could not make out anything specific to indicate who was moving around in her home. Deftly she turned the handle on the bedroom door and opened it, prepared to use the floorplan of the apartment to her advantage and bring up the rear of her uninvited guests. “Jesus!” A voice rang out as she moved to make her dart for the living room.  Before her stood a familiar face, blonde curls softly framing Dinah Lance’s face. Two mugs of steaming coffee clutched tightly in her hands. “What the hell happened to you?” Dinah paused, looking the disheveled red-head up and down in her uniform. “And where the hell did you go last night? You got the damned boy worried sick.” “Boy?” Was all Babs could muse aloud, befuddled by the whole situation. “Dick, jesus. Sweetie? Did you get a concussion while you were out there or what? Damn pain in my ass says he must’ve called you a good four or five times last night without hearing anything. So of course first thing after my nap this morning we absolutely had to go and make sure you weren’t dead in a ditch or something.” “Uh… thanks?” Barbara responded meekly. “Thanks my ass. You, missy, owe me big time for dealing with your overly-concerned ex last night. He may be a looker, but holy shit he needs to get on some anti-anxiety meds or something. I cannot handle being your go-between.” At these words, Babs couldn’t help but offer a chuckle as she accepted the steaming mug that was handed to her. It was true, she could distinctly remember several different occasions in which Richard Grayson had overreacted either to an unfavorable response, or the lack thereof. “Listen- Boy in blue is working on breakfast now, what do you say we get you out of- that” she motioned to the suit Barbara wore. “And something that looks a little less like ‘I-passed-out-after-having-waay-too-much-fun-last-night,’ shall we?” It was moments like these that reminded Babs exactly why Dinah had become her best friend. A rock formed in her stomach however, as soon as the door to her bedroom closed and she was forced to face the words she had been dreading all night: “So what exactly happened to you last night, huh? Dish. While it’s just us.” Already she could feel the guilt of the lie she’d told her best friend the night before. The lie that has had been out dealing with low-life’s and petty criminals. Not larger fish like the Red Hood. Shit. The Red Hood. He was still out there, he still knew her identity, and she still had no way to prove if it was in fact Jason behind the mask or not. “Really, I am sorry, D. I just over-did it. By time I made it home I was out, just like that.” Another lie. The coffee was starting to feel rancid in her stomach. Following Dick and Dinah’s impromptu check-up, and a batch of overwhelmingly soggy pancakes, Barbara found herself alone again- left to ponder the previous evening’s events. As if the time couldn’t creep by any slower, Babs bided her afternoon in the library, researching any and all means of resurrection and spiritual beliefs until the doors were locked for the night and she could wait for the twilight to fall into darkness. Then, she would resume her prowl for the Red Hood. This time, to give him a piece of her mind.