Sleep My ChildHestia doesn't smile. She hasn't smiled since the day Tim vanished.Sleep My Child by DrawingInTheSky
As though her own smile was sucked into Tim's, the day it broke wide open.
Joker can't get away with it Bruce had to pry her fingers off from Joker's throat. He even allowed paramedics to revive him (But Bruce didn't revive him, and to the batboys and girls, that meant something).
Hestia has been banned from visiting Arkham. Joker can't be held in super strength preventative facilities because he isn't blessed with the skill. It also means he isn't protected from the people with said skill. People like Hestia and Kon biting at the bit to tear out his intestines and pull them out through his nose with a crochet hook.
She has already had to replace the sidebar to Tim's cot twice because she has bent it out of proportion, struggling to not imagine Joker's throat under her fingers again.
She killed him, but Bruce didn't report her.
She wants to see Joker grin now with the bruises she left around his throat.
Zombie ScrapperScribe walked through the doors of the gigantic building. She had already tied her blonde hair away from her face, and the large sunglasses she wore covered part of the tattoos on her face as they shifted their shapes, while keep the sun out of her eyes.Zombie Scrapper by DrawingInTheSky
The land was barren and she figured that the best spot to find someone would be in the shelter of the largest building in the area. She nearly jumped as the doors slammed shut behind her, echoing into the still air of the interior.
The sounds of her rubber dampened footsteps echoed around her. She was dressed for a hike through rainforest, khaki pants, boots, and a tank top for the heat. Not for the heat of a building with no air flow. She continued walking through the ruins, for that's what they must have been, she hadn't seen a soul in nearly six hours. Be it human or animal, and the sun was falling quickly.
Scribe ascended the stairs calmly, looking at plaques on the walls that would have once told her the name of the bus
Still BornThe intricate carvings glared back at the girl; mocking her as she clutched the stillborn body in her hands. Her unwashed bloodstained clothes clung to her body as she entered the small temple, placing the body in the fountain's pool with a single coin, and voice boomed "Is this your desire?" as the fountain ran.Still Born by DrawingInTheSky
Getting FreshThe blank expression on the woman's face began to make Ace shift in his chair uncomfortably.Getting Fresh by DrawingInTheSky
"Lady? You alright?"
"If lips could kill, I'd kiss you dead." The woman spoke, staring at the screen that Ace had brought an image up onto.
"I'm just going to take that as a compliment. Of which I'm going to be flattered. But of which my girlfriend would be infinitely pissed about. Aaaand I'm going to turn around now." Ace said, swiveling his chair back towards the computer in order to print out the address of the woman on the screen, identical to the woman behind him now. The printer whirred to life when Ace felt the woman lean over, wrapping her arms around him and the chair.
"Thank you so much. Really." Ace nodded before continuing to hack the woman's twin's file.
Subconsciously Insane"Questioning sessions" were always the same. The doctors wanted me to talk about what had happened and why this dementia has such a hold on me, yet they never really believed me when I told them the truth of the matter. Today, it's the same thing all over again. I'm ushered into another one of those nice little rooms and left alone to wait for the psychologist to arrive.Subconsciously Insane by Chocolate-Waterfall
"Hartman, Matthew" reads the label on a file. All the notes about me and how crazy I've become, I presume. Not that I care enough to read through it. I know myself; I mean, if I was crazy, how would I know who I am? Contrariwise, if I wasn't crazy, would I even be able to understand myself? I suppose lunacy is just a part of who I am.
The doctor enters the room and shakes my hand. I could read his nametag but I don't bother to. He'll just be like all the other ones who end our sessions by giving me that look you know, the one that mixes horror with confusion and tells you how little they think of types like you.