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Alias: Calypso
Age: Twenty-seven
Occupation: Pretty Little Psycho
Application: http://lostbeforethedawn.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=89
Shipper: http://lostbeforethedawn.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=91
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Relationship Status: In Relationship with Ed Lane
Quote: I was brought up as a southern belle but I grew into the queen of hell. You always like the taste of blood and I get off when I point the gun; it's so good to have someone to be so bad with. They never saw us coming until they hit the floor. History will hate us but they'll never forget our names.
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Harley Quinn

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Aug 8 2016, 05:49 PM
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<img src="http://www.smh.com.au/content/dam/images/3/0/u/s/n/image.related.articleLeadwide.620x349.30sqp.png/1390098418480.jpg" width="430"></img>
<div class="dighead">Heaven's gates won't open up for me</div> <div class="bonesub">With these broken wings I'm falling
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<br>
She couldn't sleep without seeing his scarred face all night long. She couldn't eat more than a small morsel, for any food that passed her lips made her want to hurl. Harley could count on her fingers the amount of times throughout her life that she had been terrified for her very life, been petrified that she wouldn't make it out alive, and this certainly made the top two. The first time she'd felt like this was when Troy had staggered into her room, that ill-fated night. She'd figured out what he was going to do the second he swayed unsteadily in the doorway, and she knew that only one of them would be coming out alive. She knew what he'd do, and she knew that he'd kill her if she dared make a single peep. Harley hadn't made it through the hell that was her childhood only to die like this. So she did what she had to. Self-defence, right?<p>

The next two times were when Joker had tried to kill her. She'd trusted him with her life, despite all the abuse she'd taken from him over the years. Wasn't this how people showed love? Deep down, she knew that it wasn't, but what did she have as a reference for love? A mother who looked daggers at her whenever she walked into the room, a father who had absconded into oblivion to avoid the responsibility of a family, and a step-father who liked to throw things at her mother. At least Mistah J had treated her like a princess once upon a blue moon. Yes, she had to beg for attention and grovel for any sort of affection, but he gave in eventually and gave her all that she craved. Which was a hell of a lot more than her family had ever done for her.<p>

Fast forward a few years until she'd arrived in Albion. Despite all the monsters and the high chance of death and maiming at her job, there was never a moment when Harley was truly terrified for her life. Scared, maybe, sure, that'd happened a few times. But nothing in Albion had managed to terrify quite like those events had. Not until Eddie risked himself to save her from the Joker's clutches. It had taken a few days for the amnesia potion to wear off completely and for the harlequin to regain all her memories of her darling sniper and of Albion, but even from her first day of what should have been freedom, Harley was petrified. Joker would think she'd run away and he wasn't one to forgive such deeds lightly. To him, she'd broken his trust and loyalty and for that she was undoubtedly going to pay. And with Joker, the only acceptable punishment for such an act (which to him likely amounted to treason) was death. <p>

For the first week, she'd refused to leave her room. Now she simply refused to leave the agency. She'd screeched and cried in Eddie's arms about how <i>he</i> would find her and make her pay with her life for having left him, inconsolable as he tried to reason with her. So Greg had given her a room at the detective agency so there would always be someone there watching over her. But that wasn't enough. She was certain that he'd get her one way or another. It was simply a matter of time.<p>

None of it felt <i>real</i>. She felt like she was in a dream from which she couldn't escape. She looked at Greg and his new family, looked at Eddie and his friends, and she tried so hard to feel something for them. Tried to share in their happiness, tried to feel gratitude for her rescue, tried to feel <i>something</i>, <i>anything</i>. But all she could feel was emptiness. In place of emotions there was nothing but a gaping hole that couldn't be filled. Every night she'd cling to her sweetheart, cuddling him tight as if afraid to let go, but the emptiness wouldn't go away, simply eating away at her. <p>

She'd taken her hair out of her ponytails, switched her harlequin colours to a more subdued colour tone. Her makeup-style reverted back to the sort that Harleen had preferred - neutral and subtle. She winced when someone called her Harls, reflexively whispered under her breath <i>"it's Harleen"</i> whenever someone called her Harley. Maybe, just maybe, if Harley went away and Harleen came back, Joker would leave her alone. <p>

She'd been making progress, too. Now she could leave the room and walk about the agency. She cooked for her sweet SRU boys that looked after her, cleaned the agency, and helped with psychological profiling whenever a stray case-file caught her eye. But the second the bell above the doorway would give a musical tinkle, she'd rush from the room like a startled rabbit and hole up in her room until she was sure they were gone. She didn't know how long it would take Joker to find her, or how he'd do it, but she wasn't going to make things easy by parading around for the world to see. <p>

She'd taken up drawing again. Harleen had liked drawing and making music, but those had been some of the many things that had been forgotten about when the woman had adopted her new persona. She'd been a big believer in art and music therapy. Such things had a way of speaking to the soul like no amount of talking could. But she'd interned at the wrong asylum for such things. The inmates in Arkham didn't want to draw or learn to play the flute. Hell, most of them didn't even want to <i>talk</i> to the likes of her. <p>

Now though, she found the activity soothing. Her friends had procured a sketchpad for her, along with with an array of coloured pencils and a beautiful set of watercolour paints. The drawings had been messy and haphazard at first, but the more she drew, the more the muscle memory returned and she could do perfect renditions of her friends. She didn't show them though. Not yet. She didn't want the compliments that she'd receive merely out of pity for her current state.<p>

Tucking her legs under her, the woman wriggled around to make her position in the armchair more comfortable. She'd gotten permission to drag one of the spare armchairs into the room so she didn't have to sit at her desk while drawing. The desk reminded her too much of Arkham, while the bed just temped her to fall asleep, and that always ended up with her waking up screaming. But the armchair, it was perfect. Crinkling her nose in concentration, she added some shading to the team portrait of their old Suicide Squad. Idly she wondered what had happened to them as she darkened Diablo's eyes. She missed her crazy band of misfits.<p>


<div class="bonestag">     TAG: Chato <3 ~ NOTES: *sobs from feels* I'm sorry I didn't mean for this to happen like this. I was expecting feels and then the feels storm hit. as usual, please don't match my length ~ OUTFIT: <a href="http://cdn10.lbstatic.nu/files/looks/small/2011/11/22/1738673_4ecc0cd1f92ea12fa800000e.jpg?1321995474">this</a>
</div></div><div style="width: 300px; font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 7px;"><a href="http://z10.invisionfree.com/CAUTIONTOTHEWIND/index.php?showuser=34826">♔ nickdiazfan</a></div></center>[/dohtml]
Aug 5 2016, 10:00 PM
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.2s linear 0s;-moz-transition:all .2s linear 0s;-o-transition:all .2s linear 0s}.replybtn,.replybtn:hover{transition:all .2s linear 0s}.replywrap .title a:hover{color:silver}.replywrap h3{top:-10px}.ac-container article h4{font-size:11px;padding:10px 0;top:-40px;color:silver;letter-spacing:2px}.ac-container article h5{text-align:center;text-transform:uppercase;font-family:Raleway,sans-serif;font-size:8px;padding:8px 0;position:relative;margin:0 20px;top:-50px;color:#333;letter-spacing:10px;font-style:italic;background-color:#f0f0f0}.ac-container input:checked~article.ac-large{height:400px}article.ac-large{background-color:#fff}.replybtn{margin:10px auto 0;text-align:center;text-transform:uppercase;font-family:'Shadows Into Light',cursive;font-size:11px;background-color:#310000;padding:5px;-webkit-transition:all .2s linear 0s;-moz-transition:all .2s linear 0s;-o-transition:all .2s linear 0s}.replybtn:hover{background-color:#c0c0c0;-webkit-transition:all .2s linear 0s;-moz-transition:all .2s linear 0s;-o-transition:all .2s linear 0s}.replybtn a{text-decoration:none;color:#fff;letter-spacing:1px}.waReply .credit,.wawrap .credit{margin:0 auto;width:40px}.wawrap .credit{top:-35px;position:relative}.waReply .credit a,.wawrap .credit a{text-decoration:none;color:silver;text-transform:uppercase;font-family:Raleway,sans-serif;font-size:6px;position:relative;top:7px;letter-spacing:2px;transition:all .2s linear 0s;-webkit-transition:all .2s linear 0s;-moz-transition:all .2s linear 0s;-o-transition:all .2s linear 0s}.waReply .credit a:hover,.wawrap .credit a:hover{color:#111;font-weight:700}</style><div class="wawrap"><div class="waimg"> <img src="http://67.media.tumblr.com/65237953cab91f0e23b1870aec341936/tumblr_oakxhhVcU31uorz8zo1_500.gif" /></div><div class="wantad"> <section class="ac-container"><div> <label for="ac-1"><img src="http://i2.wp.com/filmsofcolor.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/05/Deadshot.jpg" /></label><label for="ac-2"><img src="http://i35.servimg.com/u/f35/17/13/53/41/suicid10.jpg" /></label><label for="ac-3"><img src="http://i35.servimg.com/u/f35/17/13/53/41/catwom10.png" /></label><label for="ac-4"><img src="http://i35.servimg.com/u/f35/17/13/53/41/batsy12.png" /></label><label for="ac-5"><img src="http://i35.servimg.com/u/f35/17/13/53/41/charac10.jpg" /></label> <input id="ac-1" name="accordion-1" type="radio" /> <article class="ac-large"> <img src="http://66.media.tumblr.com/ab1f53ddb719547b3ec37c2d88a395e3/tumblr_oanf13Oqax1rf5sfpo2_500.gif" /><h3>Floyd Lawton</h3><h4>Deadshot</h4><hr /><div class="scrollarea"><h5>Background</h5><p>Harley would love to have her cowboy on here, because I've loved him and Harley since seeing them in Assault on Arkham and my love for him grew since seeing the new film. Unfortunately she's not up for shipping with him, but she would love to have crazy adventures of the monster-hunting (and drinking) variety. If you decide to have him as an assassin, we have two on the site currently who would love to meet him, so there's plenty of plots available there. If you decide to have him reform and be good, he's welcome to either join the Guard or the Locke Detectives as a bodyguard or something. Alternatively he can just hang about and go on adventures with Harley all around Albion. There's probably also a high chance that someone or other would eventually take up Floyd's daughter for extra cuteness.<br><br>
Because Harley's timeline isn't set in stone, I would love it if the Squad had actually done the movie mission beforehand and that that's how they met. All Joker scenes would have to be ignored because our current Joker is from the Nolan-verse, but I think it could be a lot of fun. I'm not fussed if you haven't seen the movie yet because it'll only be alluded to slightly, but I feel it would be great because all the members would be really close by then so their friendships in Albion would be solid. Most likely option of how he got to Albion is that a portal just swallowed him from his cell.<br><br>
Faceclaim is Will Smith and I'd love you forever if you could keep him as that <3
</p></div> </article></div><div> <input id="ac-2" name="accordion-1" type="radio" /> <article class="ac-large"> <img src="http://66.media.tumblr.com/0cc893f03a85106c000cfdc518ca3426/tumblr_ob2rus7uMu1uww0yno2_500.gif" /><h3>Waylon Jones</h3><h4>Killer Croc</h4><hr /><div class="scrollarea"><h5>Background</h5><p>After seeing the following quote by Margot Robbie, I started headcanoning it and decided it should totally happen: “I think she really likes Killer Croc and looks at him like a teddy bear. She just decided, “I love him”.” So I'm requesting this lovely (if a bit scary) dude for my princess of crime. There will probably be lots of drinking and monster-hunting involved, and probably lots of hugs from Harley especially if she gets quite drunk. She promises to get him real food like pies and pizza and (fair warning) may try and pet him a few times because she adores him. Plus I feel like it'd be amazing to see the reactions of her Flashpoint squad when she shows up with him in tow like "meet my old team mate guys!".<br><br>
Just like with Deadshot, I would love it if the Squad had actually done the movie mission beforehand and that that's how they met. All Joker scenes would have to be ignored because our current Joker is from the Nolan-verse, but I think it could be a lot of fun. I'm not fussed if you haven't seen the movie yet because it'll only be alluded to slightly, but I feel it would be great because all the members would be really close by then so their friendships in Albion would be solid. Most likely option of how he got to Albion is that a portal just swallowed him from his cell. <br><br>
FC is Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje.</p></div> </article></div><div> <input id="ac-3" name="accordion-1" type="radio" /> <article class="ac-large"> <img src="http://67.media.tumblr.com/0659fe7c704cc6c9029be590df875e3d/tumblr_mvuz8jUtnh1rti868o10_500.gif" /><h3>Selina Kyle</h3><h4>Catwoman</h4><hr /><div class="scrollarea"><h5>Background</h5><p>Harley has her Pammy, but the Gotham City Sirens are one member down. So I'm requesting the ravishing Selina Kyle. She is wanted for lots of adventures, both monster-hunting ones and drinking ones. Given that Bruce Wayne is now up for adoption, it is up to the player as to whether they take Selina from the Arkham-verse or from the Nolan-verse. It is also possible for the BatCat ship to have happened but for your version of this kitty not to remember him here in Albion due to being from a different -verse. FC is open.
</p></div> </article></div><div> <input id="ac-4" name="accordion-1" type="radio" /> <article class="ac-large"> <img src="https://media.giphy.com/media/83Se3SQo8tMaY/giphy.gif" /><h3>Bruce Wayne</h3><h4>Batman</h4><hr /><div class="scrollarea"><h5>Background</h5><p>Dear ol' Batsy 'ere has gone up for adoption and is desperately wanted again, not just by Harley but by the Joker too. His app is <a href="http://lostbeforethedawn.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=738">here</a> but it is up to the new player whether they want to keep that version of him or add some elements of the Arkham-verse in there too. As Selina is being requested, it is possible for the BatCat ship to have happened but for the new kitty not to remember him. FC is Ben Affleck and I would love the new player forever if they changed him from Bale, but Bale can stay if Affleck isn't wanted.</p></div> </article></div><div> <input id="ac-5" name="accordion-1" type="radio" /> <article class="ac-large"> <img src="https://38.media.tumblr.com/fe90c349ac5ff9129425878c0989b218/tumblr_nrharw0C381sidiwxo1_500.gif" /><h3><s>Richard Flag</h3><h4>Colonel Richard "Rick" Flag Jr</h4><hr /><div class="scrollarea"><h5>Background</h5><p>I couldn't decide on the last person from the team to request, so I figured I'd ask for the eye candy to come. He'd be welcome to work either in the Royal Guard with his skills, or at the Locke Detective Agency as a bodyguard. Knowing us, sooner or later he will probably get his June Moone if Rick's player wants her cos we love shipping here. As stated before, I would love the movie to have happened but knowledge of it certainly isn't necessary. How he got to Albion is up to the taker, and the FC is Joel Kinnaman.</s></p></div> </article></div> </section></div><div class="credit"><a href="http://cttw.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=6062" target="_blank">⚡ Miami</a></div></div>[/dohtml]
Jul 28 2016, 10:55 PM
[dohtml]<link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Archivo+Narrow:400,400italic,700|Cinzel+Decorative:400,700' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'><style>.dighead { width: 430px; padding: 10px 0px 1px 0px; font-family: 'Cinzel Decorative', cursive; font-size: 26px; color:#850000; text-align: center; line-height: 110%; } .bonesub { width: 430px; padding: 0px 0px 3px 0px; font-family: 'Archivo Narrow', sans-serif; font-size:11px; color: #fff; text-align:center; letter-spacing: 6px; line-height: 110%; } .bonestag { padding: 10px; background-color: #850000; color: #000; font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 8px; text-align: center; line-height: 110%; }</style><center><div style="width: 430px; background-color: #000;">
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<div class="dighead">I don't miss you, I miss the misery</div> <div class="bonesub">Just know that I'll make you hurt when you tell me you'll make it worse. I dare ya to call my bluff. I miss the bad things, the way you hate me. I miss the screaming, I miss the late nights. But I don't miss you at all.
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<br>
Sauntering out of the decrepit mansion, Harley looked around her. It was still early morning and the perfect time for a little training. She didn't mind training the new recruits in the hot midday sun because she loved seeing the bozos squirm and suffer, but today she wanted to participate. This particular lot of 'recruits' were the worst so far, so unlike the other lots to whom she could just bark commands until something clicked in their thick ape skulls and they did what was required; with these neanderthals she actually had to demonstrate <i>everything</i>. Harley was all for living life on the rough side (hell, she'd spent <i>how</i> many months on a zombie island with no running water and bipolar weather?!), but if she had to be training morons, she sure as hell was going to train them with her own comfort in mind. <p>

<font color="red">"Listen up, losers! You have fifteen minutes to be at the shooting range in gear and ready for training. Anyone not ready gets fed to the Balverines!"</font> she shouted, marching over to a row of tents that served as barracks for the 'troops'. She'd contemplated telling Mistah J that they needed something a little more...permanent, but she'd quickly dismissed the notion because she figured they'd all die before the new batch anyhow, either by her hand or because she'd decided to feed them to the local fauna that lived outside the hide-out. <p>

Marching back into the mansion, she quickly scaled the stairs two at a time and bounded into her room. Two guns lay on the table, along with her favourite baseball bat. Her giant destroyer with the pink fluffy dice hanging from it that she'd had back in Gotham, or the strange gun that she'd found in her room the day after her arrival. It was thin and tiny compared to her favourite weapon, and it had taken Harley a while to figure out that it was a sniper rifle, much like the ones the GCPD used. Why did she have one of <i>those</i>? And why was her diamond logo painted onto the grip on one side just under the words 'Sgt. Lane', and 'cowboy' with a tiny heart written on the other? Who the hell was this Sergeant Lane?! None of it made sense, but she'd shrugged it off as just being one of <i>those</i> weeks. <p>

She tapped her foot against the floor, mulling over the weaponry decisions. Destroyer or rifle? Or she could teach them close combat. Gotham only knew how fantastic she was at <i>that</i>. Besides, maybe the bozos would end up beating each others skulls in and she would be free of training for at least a few weeks until the newest batch of recruits got brought in. After a minute, she strapped the baseball bat into its holster, and picked up the rifle before trotting back downstairs and skipping to the shooting range. Brains bashed in, or bullet to the brain? It almost seemed unfair to choose - they were both so <i>fun</i>!<p>

<font color="red">"Alright bozos, line up,"</font> she barked, marching in front of them as she eyed them up and down. God these were a pathetic lot. Where the hell <i>had</i> Mistah J dragged these muppets from? <font color="red">"Today we'll be doing double-training because you're so far behind your training that I'm ashamed to report on you to Mistah J. So you'll be working at this until you either master it, or die trying. Yay you!"</font> Cocking her head, she gave a dazzling fake smile, re-positioning the rifle so she could clap her hands in mock joy. <font color="red">"We'll start off with shooting. Those of you that aren't dead after that can then move onto close-combat. Questions?" </font>she added, cocking an eyebrow and her eyes taking on a steely glint that suggested that the person who dared ask would get shot. <p>



<div class="bonestag">     TAG: Eddie ~ NOTES: the grotto acts similar to HP's Room of Requirements so unless a person knows about it, they can't enter. It can be NPCed that Isadora (who acts as a living map) showed them to the place for whatever reason. Also Harley is being fed amnesia potions by some unknown person/henchman/possibly Joker, so she can't actually remember Ed or anything about being in Albion except for her run in with Joker at the Crucible. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oy7GxpBIsnk">song inspiration</a>
</div></div><div style="width: 300px; font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 7px;"><a href="http://z10.invisionfree.com/CAUTIONTOTHEWIND/index.php?showuser=34826">♔ nickdiazfan</a></div></center>[/dohtml]
Jul 23 2016, 10:49 PM
[dohtml]<link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Archivo+Narrow:400,400italic,700|Cinzel+Decorative:400,700' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'><style>.dighead { width: 430px; padding: 10px 0px 1px 0px; font-family: 'Cinzel Decorative', cursive; font-size: 26px; color:#850000; text-align: center; line-height: 110%; } .bonesub { width: 430px; padding: 0px 0px 3px 0px; font-family: 'Archivo Narrow', sans-serif; font-size:11px; color: #fff; text-align:center; letter-spacing: 6px; line-height: 110%; } .bonestag { padding: 10px; background-color: #850000; color: #000; font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 8px; text-align: center; line-height: 110%; }</style><center><div style="width: 430px; background-color: #000;">
<img src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/0b/1c/3d/0b1c3de1c6a19a0edfc312f1a22b7d3b.jpg" width="350"></img>
<div class="dighead">Just gonna stand there and watch me burn</div> <div class="bonesub">But that's alright because I like the way it hurts</div><div style="width: 350px; padding: 10px; font-family: calibri, sans-serif; color: #D3D3D3; text-align: justify; line-height: 90%; font-size: 12px;">
<br>
Throwing a small rubber ball into the air, Harley watched it make an arc in the air before catching it, a grim expression on her face. Again and again she threw it, before she finally heaved a sigh and dropped the hand holding the ball down by her side. She was going to be leaving in a few days and she still hadn't told Ed about her plans. She'd struck a deal with Joker to join his gang as his second-in-command and help him with his plans of anarchy and world domination. She was bored of her current situation, and for all his faults —and frankly he had enough to fill an entire book with— Mistah J was fun. The life and soul of any hostage situation or bank robbery. And Harley wanted fun. <p>

But how could she tell Ed that she was going back to the man who'd tried to kill her twice? More importantly, how was she going to tell him that she was going back to him because she was sick of being the good girl everyone expected her to be? He was so moral and good that he practically had a halo above his head at all times. There he was, trying to fix the world while she got her kicks from watching people being slaughtered by monsters every night.<p>

She could just leave. Get up and walk away without telling him the real reason that she was going. Simply tell him that he deserved better and to find himself a girl who didn't enjoy death and blood as much as she did. He was a gentleman and he deserved a lady, not a bouncing little psycho that enjoyed pointing guns at people more than she cared to admit. <p>

Maybe she'd do exactly that. It would break her heart to leave without a goodbye, but it would break more if he asked her to stay. She loved him but she just couldn't. They were too different, came from different worlds. He wanted to change the world for the better, while she wanted to watch it burn just for fun. She could just leave tonight and never look back. He was so caught up in helping Westcliff develop that with some luck he wouldn't even notice until it was too late to go after her.<p>

She threw the ball up into the air once more, just as a knock on her door sounded, breaking Harley out of her thoughts. <font color="red">"Whoever it is better have tequila for me,"</font> she called out. <font color="red">"I'm not entertaining sober."</font><p>


<div class="bonestag">     NOTES: THE FEELS TRAIN IS NOW PULLING INTO THE STATION!
</div></div><div style="width: 300px; font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 7px;"><a href="http://z10.invisionfree.com/CAUTIONTOTHEWIND/index.php?showuser=34826">♔ nickdiazfan</a></div></center>[/dohtml]
May 25 2016, 09:33 AM
[dohtml]<link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Archivo+Narrow:400,400italic,700|Cinzel+Decorative:400,700' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'><style>.dighead { width: 430px; padding: 10px 0px 1px 0px; font-family: 'Cinzel Decorative', cursive; font-size: 26px; color:#850000; text-align: center; line-height: 110%; } .bonesub { width: 430px; padding: 0px 0px 3px 0px; font-family: 'Archivo Narrow', sans-serif; font-size:11px; color: #fff; text-align:center; letter-spacing: 6px; line-height: 110%; } .bonestag { padding: 10px; background-color: #850000; color: #000; font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 8px; text-align: center; line-height: 110%; }</style><center><div style="width: 430px; background-color: #000;">
<img src="http://pre03.deviantart.net/7c11/th/pre/f/2012/118/a/2/harley_quinn_wallpaper_by_claire_kaede-d4xutqr.jpg" width="400"></img>
<div class="dighead">I am your worst nightmare</div> <div class="bonesub">I’m just a problem that doesn’t want to be solved, so could you please hold your applause?</div><div style="width: 350px; padding: 10px; font-family: calibri, sans-serif; color: #D3D3D3; text-align: justify; line-height: 90%; font-size: 12px;">
<br>
One leg crossed over the other as she watched the latest contestant die, Harley wrinkled her nose. This evening was turning into one giant snooze fest. She had missed her arena of gore and death while on the zombie island, but it seemed that nothing had changed much in her absence. The contestants were still as crummy and died as fast as when she had been there, and the only real difference now was that Seneca kept glancing at her every few minutes as if fearful that she'd disappear again. It was almost endearing.<p>

She had so many better things to be doing with her time right now. Like taking Bud and Lou for a 'walk' which was really just an excuse to go out for some target practice. Or dragging Eddie out to dinner, although Westcliff wasn't all that refined in terms of fine dining. Even getting drunk by herself was preferable to watching this. Anything was.<p>

The night was dragging on. Not enough good deaths; their monsters were slaying their pitiful line-up tonight. She tapped her nails on the arm of her chair, barely concealing a yawn as the mercenaries kicked and spat at the contestant's corpse. It was a shame, really. She'd had hopes for this one. In all fairness it was only because he was a bit of eye-candy, a far cry from the toothless unwashed bums that usually came in to fight. It was sad, really, because said bums were probably only just getting by and this was their last chance to make something of their lives. The Crucible seemed to bring in a lot of desperates. Last chance for recognition, or to keep their home or put food on the table; last chance to win the admiration of some pretty wench, or just to get enough money together to help with their addictions. She'd helped people like that, back in the day. Got them cleaned up, helped to make them right in the head, let them go to make something of themselves. Now she was betting on who would last longer.<p>

A feeling of guilt rose up, but she quickly squashed that down. That had been a different world, and she'd been a different person back then. She'd had such hopes for the world, despite her childhood. She'd been so naively ambitious; Harley had honestly thought that she'd had a chance to save the world. But ambitions and dreams get a little jumbled after a psychopath manipulates you to fall for him and then ends up trying to kill you. Her ambitions to help were gone, only to be replaced by blood-lust. Once she'd been a bouncing ball of let's-save-the-world, now she was a bouncing ball of psycho.<p>

A wet nose nudged her, pulling her out of her thoughts, and with a smile Harley reached out to pet Bud. His tail thumped happily against the floor, before a second nose nudged his out of the way. Lou wanted attention too. <font color="red">"Once this miserable match is over, Mama's going to find you a nice hunk of something to chew on, alright babies?"</font> She was rewarded with the pair licking her hand in delight at the prospect of a feast. Leaning over, the blonde looked at the book in Seneca's hands, scoffing as she saw the competitor's name. <font color="red">"Up next we have General Loser from the You-And-Who's-Army Battalion. I'm quaking in my boots,"</font> her voice dripped with sarcasm as she rolled her eyes and leaned sideways in her chair, kicking her legs over the arm and crossing one leg over the other. <font color="red">"He won't make it past the skeletons. Ol' Bonesy will snap him like a twig."</font><p>

She scanned the crowd, searching for her darling sniper, but he was nowhere to be found. She couldn't help but pout, even though he knew he was likely out with his friends that he hadn't seen in forever. She would have been out partying with her friends too, if any of them were here. A wave of homesickness hit her as she wondered what Ivy was up to. She missed her best friend dreadfully, and though she knew it was selfish of her, she wished that Ivy would show up in this world sooner or later. Hell, Harley would even have settled for Selina, as long as it was someone from her own world. She missed Gotham.<p>

A flicker of purple and green in all-too-familiar shades caught her attention and Harley quickly turned to look. Surely Mister J hadn't managed to get here too. Her stomach knotted itself and a lump formed in her throat as she quickly scanned the area again, but the offending colours were lost in the sea of spectators. The blonde let out a shaky sigh and leaned down to pet the hyenas in an effort to calm herself. <i>You're just imagining things, Harls. Mr J wouldn't end up here, not in a million years. Relax.</i><p>


<div class="bonestag">     NOTES: If you need more action to go on, lemme know and I'll add something more in. Also please don't feel like you have to match my length.
</div></div><div style="width: 300px; font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 7px;"><a href="http://z10.invisionfree.com/CAUTIONTOTHEWIND/index.php?showuser=34826">♔ nickdiazfan</a></div></center>[/dohtml]
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