rehoped - Tumblr blog

[rehoped]

set the scene setting prompts (but a little more specific) from yours truly.

001, a convenience store past midnight.

002, a hospital waiting room at 3 in the morning.

003, a photoshoot outdoors in the middle of winter.

004, an indoor filming set of a detective's office.

005, a new house/apartment filled with unopened cardboard boxes.

006, a swing set in an empty playground at night.

007, on stage in an empty theatre.

008, inside an old abandoned house.

009, an empty cemetery at night.

010, the arrival hall at an airport.

011, the last train compartment that's not full.

012, the roulette table in a casino.

013, on the deck of a cruise ship.

014, a kitchen during a black out, surrounded by candles.

015, a treehouse in the middle of the woods.

016, on the dance floor during a wedding.

017, behind the chapel before the wedding ceremony starts.

018, backstage during the middle of a concert.

019, a crowded club during a bachelorette party.

020, standing in front of a painting at a museum.

021, a small, intimate family barbecue.

022, a gazebo while it's raining.

023, the back of an empty bus.

024, a hotel room with only one bed.

025, an empty balcony while a party goes on inside.

026, a bar just after closing.

027, an empty sports stadium.

028, lakeside while the sun is setting.

030, an empty stretch of road beside a broken down car.

031, in front of a suspicious pool of blood in an empty parking lot.

032, in the crowd of spectators during an underground fight.

033, a plane during a bout of turbulence.

034, on kiss cam at a sports game.

035, at a table during a charity gala.

036, a masquerade ball.

037, a halloween party in a suburban house.

038, the beach in the late afternoon.

039, a dressing room after a big performance.

040, exploring the depths of a mysterious cave.

[rehoped]

one. copy of the count of monte cristo by alexander dumas. an a - typical selection for stephanie, more dramatic and prestigious than she's used to, & it wasn't the contents of the novel per say that drew her to it but rather the self - made etchings of it's previous owner : jason todd. little space has been squandered or left blank, the many highlights offering brief insight to whatever thoughts brought forward. it's as intimate as the theft of a diary.

two. the standard 21st birthday present from : bruce wayne. the odyssey by homer.

three. nancy drew by carolyn keene all novels in their original, old flimsy form, pencil dresses and mary jane plimsols on the cover, faded yellows the standard print quality in the 80's, paper hangs on well worn corners and spines. no one can ever say they aren't well adored.

four. his dark materials by philip pullman. recommended by a well loved english teacher who saw the similiarities between our protagonist and theirs : the tale follows lyra belaqua on her adventure to end a mystery, save her friend, & defy all authority.

five. recommended as part of her education as batgirl, the adventures of sherlock holmes by arthur conan doyle. stephanie is unsure if the materials were well enjoyed by barbara, tim or any amongst them but they litter every bookshelf in gotham.

six. the book that kept her most company when hiding underneath her bed frame from her father's yells, charlotte's web by e.b. white.

acknowledged : @redvived

[rehoped]

⭑ - — private writing account for stephanie brown from detective comics. pre - new 52 & rebirth BATGIRL influenced by own canon & tropes. affiliated with @redvived but independent, private, mutuals only. conducted by yara / 21 + minors please don't interact !

follow along : carrd / sideblog / questions & answers

[rehoped]

THE TINIEST DETAILS: CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT QUESTIONS

do they drive? if so, do they enjoy driving or do they hate it? or somewhere in between?

if they drive, where is their favorite location to drive to?

if they drive, do they own a vehicle? if so, what make and model?

what bumper stickers do they have on their car?

what paintings and/or posters are on their walls?

what is a song they listen to with the windows rolled down, turned all the way up, on the highway?

is there an artform they've always wanted to try (glassblowing, woodworking, painting, ect) but never have? if so, what about that artform speaks to them?

what time of day do they usually start getting sleepy?

do they catch a second wind? if so, what is their method for catching it (napping, drinking coffee, exercising, ect)?

are they a nap person? if so, how long are their naps? do they set a 20 minute timer and wake up before it? or set no timer and wake up in the middle of the night?

what is the most obscure book they've read?

what is a book that interested them so much they took it with them to the bathroom?

what did the air smell like during their childhood?

what is a core memory from their childhood that they look back on fondly and for comfort?

when was the last time they were held, and truly held, for several minutes? who was it with?

do they meditate? if not, have they ever tried? how did it go?

how many pennies and quarters do they have in their couch?

how dusty is their home? spotless, lived-in, dust bunny haven?

what is their favorite chocolate bar?

do they like their brownies fudgy or cakey? or not at all, and only want the crusts?

whats that one weird food combination that everyone else thinks is gross but they think is delicious?

where do they put their shoes when they come home from a long day?

after a vacation, do they immediately unpack or slowly retrieve items from their suitcase until its empty?

how often do they do self-reflection?

are they more afraid of being alone with themselves or with others?

have they ever had a near death experience? if so, what was it?

out of all the subjects in school, which was their favorite? which one did they excel at?

how many alarms do they have set on their phone? what is their alarm ringtone?

do they fart in front of other people? or do they hide their farts?

do they have to see any specialist doctors? if so, do they have a strong bond with their doctor or do they dislike them?

what is their favorite seasoning?

what is their favorite sauce?

how spicy is spicy for them? (pepper, jalepeno, ghost pepper, ect)

how long do they let the dishes go unwashed?

how much laundry do they accumulate before doing it?

what shampoo, conditioner, cologne/perfume and deodorant do they use?

[rehoped]

handsome in a way that rivalled old hollywood : cheekbones precise, high and cut clear. ( the autopsy claimed the right was shattered to 'putty', run a tempted finger along and the puckered edges still bite. bone welded piece by piece by piece clutch cracks. ) the square meander of his jawbone juts down supporting the thick structure rooting up toward a broader face shadowed under heavy set brows that crescent over deep, rich oaken brown eyes, the kind that's been felled with care and lacquered gently. ( dr. kassa noted [1] the laceration from his left brow over his eye was 'five inches deep & two wide'. it casts a pink line when he blinks, enough for her to wonder if it bothers him when it rains. )

tall in a way that splits crowds, dwarfs the rooms he stands in, touches the feet of clouds, demands attention despite him baulking at it. all eyes stalk a long stride til' it meets its destination ; hypnotised, paralysed by his gait. ( photo's [2] [3] pre - murder place jason solidly under 5'6, if fate had called on him a month or two later a growth spurt would have given the joker another half an hours worth of inches to break in his legs. )

fissure from frame to door, left ajar with only himself to blame, allows a lean watchpoint for glimpses and gasps of him. an image of a vaunted namesake, broad in wingspan and in strength, the depiction of impregnability. tides couldn't take him, every step or stance is resolutely rooted ; winds can't bat him loose, nothing so small as nature phases him, even with all her attempts to take him, laudable and laughable how many times petty thief alludes himself to believe he can. she's witnessed men bounce as if repelled by an invisible force the moment they meet him, all the energy forced into an offensive charge is useless against an inimitable object.

impressive in the way only the untouchable can be, a vision scraped from screen or myth, a view best observed from the sidelines lest it ends up blinding you to reason. the kind of reason that would advise against peeking too long, too often, too swiftly when he abandons one shirt for the next. his back to her, unknown that an audience holds its breath rapt and intent, that her fingers twitch to test if his skin is as soft as it seems ; if she can help to count the scars he's forgotten or misplaced.

caution turns her away, shame biting at the back of her head, temptation tickles at thoughts to swift to rationalise creaking through the opening to touch, trail, trace every part she could. thumb to a rib, sliding up the trail left by well earned muscle, a plume left patched and scratched across ( photo[ 4] id : finalised autopsy stitched together. ) collarbone still fragile to the touch, she thinks he'd shiver under her, that he'd blush if she made him. her hands could make him breathless if she could touch him. handsome or scarred, tall or imposing, strength or walls, none of it would matter at all if her fantasies had their way.

eve wouldn't have needed convincing, if he was her forbidden fruit.

within moments, it'll be wrapped up in the armour of a three piece suit he despises, layers between him to her ; guarded, button by button, to perfectly parade around a " civilised society " that he despises.

[ 𝙿𝙻𝚄𝚂 𝙾𝙽𝙴 ] : the sender and receiver put on their glad rags and attend a very fancy and prestigious event together. / @redvived

HE WON'T BE ALONE. a charming crutch she'll be, smoothing conversation in a dress that slinks over her skin, lapping up attention donned in golden silk with her curls coiffed and lips red, defusing intrusive curiosity that eats every rumour of him, as if she could offset the sight of him against the need for answers.

the crowd tonight will coo every tabloid headline back. a carrion chorus drunk on the chance to seize rumour or innuendo, pecking each wound for their chum. dead men walk & talk who wouldn't want a front row seat? her role is to protect him. the irony strikes her deep as here she stands, a sneak on his privacy.

worse : no one in that crowd had seen the files on him. pushed into her hands by an overseer, perhaps, but she read his life like he were hers for consumption.

sin rankles at her stomach, bitter taste embalming her tongue. spinning away halts a private showing ( mercifully, thankfully ) before it went to far. & though sense would tell her a peek into the box, a glance at the apple, lasts seconds her stewing on the mistake choice takes her minutes.

enough self - admonishment passes for him to slip the gap seclusion unnecessary when he's donned a suit fit for kings, hair slick back, smirk baited. handsome in the way that takes your breath away, tall in the way that forces your eyes to crawl up, up and up to meet his, broad in a way that encompasses her entire view. that's his speciality, up close & personal. furrow in his long brows the longer she won't meet his gaze. on any other night, she wouldn't have him any other way now, she's already taken too much of him.

playing at the smiling, innocuous guest, playing a significant part of him to the crowd ; pretending a confidant, pretending to be a friend to him. knowing the entire time -

the cat among the pigeons is her. a night next to him is all she could have wanted. she wants for more, & the guilt of it crushes.

[rehoped]

Tommy Martinez Hunters — (S2E04)