#42
It's morning. Mouse is gone. Smart girl.
It's time to wake Harley and get this show on the road.
I'm sick of writing on the dry bits of piss-soaked newspaper.
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September 11th
Finally, a notebook to write in. And a ballpoint pen. Funny, the little things we take for granted in life. Where do I begin? Well, I have a lot of paper, and a lot of time to write, so I'll start at this morning.
This morning.
J woke me up with a little kick which startled me at first, then made me laugh at at how feeble it was compared to his past kicks. Then it made me worry because the idiot kicked with the leg that still had a
#36
I haven’t heard anyone call me by my real name in a long time. The flash of fear and confusion at hearing it yelled out across the entire shelter was quickly replaced by the recognition of her voice, and the comfort that she was the only one left who knew me by that name. I sent Mouse to find and bring back Harley, sending my pocket watch with her as proof of my presence.
Mouse is my mouse. Well, she’s a kid. But she’s my mouse. I found her around here recently after I’d escaped the cops’ surprise ambush. I walked in the shelter, buried under some foul scraps of clothes, and noticed her following me at a di
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#34
She woke up before me this morning. She didn’t have time yesterday to stock up on ammo or deal with the schizophrenic henchmen, the only two things on her list she didn’t do. So... she went out early to finish those up. Everytime I wake up without her near me I have a mini heart attack. Luckily she always leaves a note pinned to my pillow, otherwise I’d flip out and panic.
Well. That was an exaggeration. I honestly like it when she leaves me alone in peace. But still, it’s nice to know she wasn’t kidnapped.
This was her cheesy little note:
J,
8:35 Gone to the ammo shop with a few of the boys
Be hom
Chris Nolan on Heath Ledger by JokerAgentChaos, literature
Literature
Chris Nolan on Heath Ledger
- Charisma as Natural as Gravity - By Christopher Nolan -
One night, as I’m standing on LaSalle Street in Chicago, trying to line up a shot for “The Dark Knight,” a production assistant skateboards into my line of sight. Silently, I curse the moment that Heath first skated onto our set in full character makeup. I’d fretted about the reaction of Batman fans to a skateboarding Joker, but the actual result was a proliferation of skateboards among the younger crew members. If you’d asked those kids why they had chosen to bring their boards to work, they would have answered honestly that they didn’t know
Happy Birthday NightsDarkAngel1 by JokerAgentChaos, literature
Literature
Happy Birthday NightsDarkAngel1
Being the girlfriend of a wanted criminal had its advantages. The excess money he collected, for one, provided her with almost endless shopping sprees. And two, the protection he offered was of utmost quality. No one would ever dare to mess with the mistress of fear. Life was pretty comfortable and stable for Taylor, although you'd think the opposite once hearing she was the girlfriend of The Scarecrow. The city was much less terrifying to her now that she was in the heart of one of Gotham's most dangerous terrorists.
She could confidently walk through the snowy streets of the shopping district (or anywhere in the city, really) without fear
The ocean was suffocating Harley. It was more unbearable than having a pillow forced over her face, and she knew exactly how that felt. Every attempt to move her limbs and swim sent pain through her panicked muscles. Drowning was a slow death, but she suspected her suffering would be cut short on account of her terrified heart beating faster than it was ever supposed to beat. Her bursting fear alone could kill her.
The woman screamed in silence when her flowing hair was captured and yanked up. She felt the crisp night air welcoming her face back to the surface as she convulsed a gallon of liquid from her throat. The waverunner was slippery a
#26
Bruce's bodyguards really beat her up. The bruises appeared today. Looks like something I did. It pisses me off.
She's still ashamed of failing or whatever. No matter how many times I tell her it was no big deal, she still cries. It annoys the hell out of me.
So now I'm in a bad mood. My girl is sore and practically crippled, I have to hear her blubbering apologies every minute, and these damned geckos won't stop dropping feces in my sock drawer. They must be executed immediately. Every single one of the bastards.
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#27
I cleared out the bedroom on my own, eventually tying Harley to the bed after getting irritated at her many feeb