quinntassential

[quinntassential]

@inkdevourer : ℙ𝕒𝕪𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜 (For Leslie)

The Madhouse. Sounded like her kind of place. Best of all, it was neutral territory, which suited Harley because she couldn't say for sure exactly which side of the coin she landed on anymore. It depended on the day, her mood, but mostly her whims. Leaving her baseball bat by the bouncer, Harley rollerskated down the dimly lit corridor that led to the main club area, filled with a series of fluorescent colour-changing lighting overhead. Brushing past people in the crowd purposefully, Harley let out a high-pitched little "Oops!" as she playfully navigated the lay of the place, smirk plastered across her face, suggesting she didn't really mean it at all. Then she spotted the person she'd been looking for; the head Honcho, if you will - the Boss of the place. "Well if ain't tha life of the party!" Harley called out towards Leslie, waving enthusiastically up at her to the VIP's seating above where she could spot the lights dancing across pale skin and dark hair. "Just the gal I was lookin' for!" She did a small idle twirl, pigtails flowing as she kept her balance whilst waiting for the other woman's reply. "Think ya can squeeze one more up there? Maybe a booth for just the two of us? I got's something for ya."

[quinntassential]

@osculumabmor: 𝕋𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖'𝕤 𝕒 ℂ𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕕 (for Alexis)

Harley didn't count the days they were apart; she counted the hours. Always had done, even when the Joker was just her patient. Anxiously and enthusiastically watching the clock tick down until finally she could interview him once more. Years had passed since she had fallen into his chaotic embrace, and yet with every fight, she felt herself falling deeper, wrapped tightly around his slender finger. This time was no different. Seven hundred and twenty-nine hours later, she was back at Amusement Mile pounding on the Funhouse door. Dressed in her traditional Jester attire, she kept at it until her knuckles began to bleed through the red fabric. Of course, she could have scaled the building with ease and entered through one of their secret passages. But that wouldn't demonstrate the point would it? No, she had to earn his forgiveness. His permission. Anything less would be another transgression. She slid her fingers down the bolted door, until she was down on her knees, head pressed against the cold metal. Finally the sound of the peephole opened. Had it been the quietness that now followed the onslaught of bangs, which had filled the air that now led whoever was behind to check to see whether she had cleared off? Or had Mistah J finally decided to grant her an audience? Her entire body clenched with anticipation. as she looked up expecting to find one of the Gang's goon's but finding a pair of green, darkened eyes, thick with eyeliner peer down at her, startled her to her core. A new face she didn't recognise. One she would soon grow to loathe once she saw the attention her Puddin' had been giving them.

"Either ya wearing a new set of Falsies, or ya name's not JImbo. " Harley stood up, now clenching her fists resolutely, not nearly as dumb as she often pretended to be. Mistah J had done many cruel things to her over the years, both physical and mental trials that he had pushed her through but never once had he dared to replace her. "Whatever. I don't care. Just open the damn door." She demanded with a stomp and pout. Right now the only thing that mattered was seeing her Puddin'. He'd air everything out. Harley was sure of it. He always did. "He's gonna want ta hear me out. He always does."

[quinntassential]

" You know what they say, it takes a bitch to know a bitch. "

An independent and highly selective roleplay blog for Harleen Quinzel of Detective Comics. Based on a mixture of comics and headcanons. Penned by Pinky. 18+ and over, DNI if you are underage.

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