#qquinntessential

[alreadybrcken]

@qquinntessential​​ said: “ [ DISCOVERED ]  for receiver to see sender’s scars for the first time :))) “

{♛ x Random stuff in my inbox ||  always accepting x}

Quiet moments, although not impossible, were incredibly rare. There was always something to do, or somewhere to be. Always moving, moving, moving; no standing still, never standing still. That’s the way Tommy liked it — no, needed it. Standing still offered up too many opportunities for things to enter his mind and wreak havoc. 

So it took a lot of convincing on Harley’s part for him to agree to leave his office — and work — behind for the night. Though he had to admit that it had been absolutely worth it. Especially now, with a natural high still clouding his mind and feeling nothing but content. His head was resting against her shoulder as her fingers played with his hair, and his own were busy exploring her skin. Mainly a scar he had to admit he’d never really paid attention to before. At least not enough to ever bother asking about it. 

“What happened here? Almost looks like someone tried to slaughter you like a bloody pig.” 

[murdcck]

❝ When is the next time you and I are gonna be able to get on a yacht?! ❞  @qquinntessential​ / prompt

      HER WORDS, DESPITE OVERLY DELIGHTED, HAVE SOME TRUTH TO THEM. Matt wasn’t exactly dripping with money as of late ( really ever, to be honest ), and he wasn’t getting invites to have parties on the dock at midnight. Not that being on a yacht was even remotely interesting to him, but adding Harley into the mix? Having found her up to no good, putting a stop to it in the quickest way possible, ended up with them on a stolen yacht. They’ll return it eventually. “ We have some time before they find out it’s missing, ” Matt hums thoughtfully, hand lifting to twirl a strand of her hair around his finger. “ What’d you have in mind? ”

[decimatlas]

Maybe the real monster was the friends we both literally and figuratively murdered along the way. 

❛     –––    Maybe.    ❜    Quentin ponders for a moment, his fingers moving to scratch his chin as he looks over at his unlikely ally.    ❛ Yes, people died.    But it was a sacrifice I was willing to make. ❜

[theclownprnc-arch]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄’𝐒  𝐀  𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄  𝐎𝐅  𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐘  IN  THE  TRUNK  OF  THE  CHEVY  AND  A  DEAD  MAN  AT  OUR  FEET  STARING  UP  AT  US  LIKE  WE’RE  SOMETHING  INTERESTING.

[ @qquinntessential ]

[kawalarz]

BATMAN: ARKHAM CITY ( accepting ).

@qquinntessential​ said:  “ you expecting a kiss?” ((HI BB ILU))

     ROUGHHOUSING  WOULD  BE  A  DELICATE  WAY  TO  PUT  IT. With the two of them, it never takes too long for the place to turn into the most meticulous of battlefields. Right now — due to all reasons but pleasant or rational. SHEEZ, they might need to get a new table after this ( for the third time this week alone ). Not to mention these BULLET HOLES in the ceiling and kitchen knives stuck in the wall. At least his suit hasn’t suffered any damage yet. Staying away from the HARLEQUIN SCORNED, much farther than at arm’s length, gloved hands hidden behind his back fiddle with the packed cylinder. Click, click, click.

     ❝  A kiss?  ❞ Definite arch of his eyebrow remains just as DUBIOUS & SUSPICIOUS as the half-simper lazily stretching across red-painted lips. Glistening wingtips shuffle through the shattered glass lying at his feet; it’s a risky move to diminish the cautious distance. Then again, was he ever the type to regard possible DANGERS? He would sooner fall into jeopardy’s welcoming arms himself, willingly. ❝  With what?  ❞

[griimreaping]

@qquinntessential​   ━━━━━  s.c

Licking   the   blood   from   her   teeth   and   spitting   off   to   the   side,   Jean   grins   wildly,   pulse   racing   in   her   ears.   Teeth   stained   pink   from   the   split   gumline   from   the   last   delivered   punch.   She   flexes   the   fingers   on   hand   with   the   brass   knuckles   to   get   a   better   grip   before   stepping   back   toward   her   opponent.   It   had   been   like   this   for   nearly   a   week   straight   now.   Pop-up   fight   rings   and   the   occasional   bar   brawl.   Anything   to   get   that   momentary   high   off   the   adrenaline   with   the   drought   in   contracts   driving   the   woman   singularly   insane   with   each   passing   day.

Cracking   the   stocky   man   squarely   across   the   jaw   and   following   an   equally   devastating   hook,   Jean   watches   as   his   eyes   roll   before   focusing.   A   meaty   fist   rockets   toward   her.   For   his   size,   the   man   has   surprising   dexterity,   which   landed   him   the   previous   two   punches.   Which   is   all   Jean   plans   on   allowing   him.   Slapping   his   blow   away,   the   woman   allows   her   body   to   fill   the   wide   opening   the   missed   shot   creates   and   deliver   a   flurry   of   vicious   punches   to   the   burly   man's   ribs.   Something   cracks   beneath   her   knuckles,   and   Jean   steps   away   as   the   man   stumbles,   finally   succumbing   to   the   floor.   A   wave   of   disappointment   and   joy   alike   rise   from   the   crowd   pressing   in   around   the   dirt   ring,   money   exchanging   hands   and   people   howling   that   the   fight   had   been   rigged.

Stepping   from   the   ring   and   probing   her   bloody   gums   with   the   tip   of   a   numb   tongue,   Jean   catches   the   face   amongst   the   chaos   and   feels   something   close   to   irritated   embarrassment   writhe   behind   her   ribs.   Snatching   a   wad   of   money   presented   to   her   by   the   bookie   who   blew   a   cloud   of   sour   cigar   smoke   into   her   face,   Jean   glowers   before   going   to   address   her   viewer.

❛   Hope   you   didn't   have   money   on   him.   I   don't   think   he'll   be   stepping   into   any   rings   for   a   good   while   with   three   broken   ribs.   ❛   Jean   rubs   the   back   of   her   bruised   hand   across   her   chin,   smearing   the   semi-dried   gore   there   and   fixing   them   with   a   dull   look.   

[knightxout]

𝚂𝙸𝙶𝙽𝙰𝙻 𝚁𝙴𝙲𝙴𝙸𝚅𝙴𝙳:  “ you certainly know how to keep a girl hanging.” [ @qquinntessential​​ ]

✘ BATMAN: ARKHAM CITY.

“Ya know— TRAFFIC.” Rush hour that just happened to get his jacket all spruced up with some red drops here and there. As the explanation rolls off his tongue so casually, his eyes inspect the stained sleeves. “That’s just strawberry jam,” he soon throws in with not the faintest hint of assurance in his voice. After all, from the very get-go, he knows she’d be the last person to fall for an excuse coming straight from the bottom shelf. For a few reasons.

When his gaze finds hers, a corner of his lips shifts upwards languidly into a MOCK-UP of an apologetic smile. The kind of smile a troublemaker of kid would crack in the principal’s office. Then, with quite a delay, Jason finally digests the half-observation, HALF-ACCUSATION she greeted him with.

“How ‘bout a fuckin’ hello first, QUINN? I thought they teach you basic manners at THE CIRCUS. I almost got killed gettin’ here, mind you.”

[ancymonck]

SOFT INTIMACY MEME.

@qquinntessential​​ said:  📕 @ Jason

SYLLABLES GOING IN ONE EAR AND OUT THE OTHER. All blending into one mash of sounds he can’t dedicate each ounce of his wandering attention to. Dark eyes shoot up at the ceiling that’s apparently way more engaging that whatever pages Harley keeps flipping through. Relentlessly. BLAH BLAH THIS, BLAH BLAH THAT. Hasn’t she already caught the hint that the last thing he could care for on a peaceful Thursday night is— HAS SHE EVEN TOLD HIM THE TITLE? Soon half-lidded gaze shifts to the book cover, unfortunately cloaked by the shadow.

“What THE FUCK is this you’re TORTURING me with?”

[devilknown]

@qquinntessential​​ said: ‘ sorry for waking you, baby. go back to sleep. ’

(meme ;; accepting)

Matt couldn’t say whether she had just been surprisingly silent during her breaking and entering or if he was just so used to her heartbeat and chaos that he didn’t wake until she laid down beside him, but either way, he was the sort of grumpy that only came with sleep interrupted.

“You broke into my apartment.” Matt grumbled, even as he shifted to free the blankets from beneath himself and toss them over top her, “You could have just knocked.” Of course, he’d still be grumpy, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry about the security of his apartment.

Frowning, he tilted his head forward to sniff the air near her. “Is the blood yours?” She’d obviously gotten a shower before coming, but he could still smell the remnants of it. Skimming a gentle hand over her body, he didn’t feel any of the heat that usually came with fresh injury, so he relaxed, settling an arm over her stomach. Of course, he’d worry more in the morning just who she had bloodied, but for now, he was content to just be pleased with her own lack of injury.

[jokersdottir]

A New Face || Qquinntessential

The call came in late the night Joker was busted out of Arkham. A handful of his loyal crew were anxious to have their boss back and Uncle Vinnie had to pretend to be one of them. Steve had to be grateful she supposed. It was better to be there to greet him, than to have him show up at school to drag her back to... whatever he was up to next.

Perched precariously on the handrail of the catwalk, she looked down on the rest of the crew gathered in the warehouse. She assumed it was abandoned previously by the layer of dust that covered everything. Now it was full of life as her father introduced the newest sheep to his fold.

Harley Quinn. Apparently she had been the one to help him bust out of Arkham. She hadn’t had the chance to speak to her yet, but one thing was for certain: she hated her for it. It was likely that Miss Quinn would never know though. Steve was good at putting on a happy face around Joker, and she’d probably have to be on her best behavior around Harley too.

Decidedly bored of watching the adults mingle, she hiked her knees to her chest and planted her feet firmly on the handrail. It wasn’t likely she’d be getting back to gymnastics practice for a while, so she may as well make due with what she had. Teetering a little, she began to slowly make her way around the perimeter of the warehouse, her eyes on Harley the whole time.

[alreadybrcken]

{ ♛ x ᴛᴏᴍᴍʏ&ʜᴀʀʟᴇʏ ɪɴᴄᴏʀʀᴇᴄᴛ ǫᴜᴏᴛᴇ(s?) x}‌‌

For @qquinntessential because it’s Christmas and I needed to do something productive

[murdcck]

@qquinntessential​ sent: “ SEND ME ❥ FOR YOUR MUSE TO CUDDLE UP NEXT TO MINE WHILE ASLEEP ON THE COUCH. ”

         AFTER THE TUSSLE THEY HAD IN HIS APARTMENT ( table on its side, beer bottles knocked to the floor, a glass vase holding a withered plant, shattered ), MATT FINDS HIMSELF PRESSED INTO THE COUCH WITH THE WEIGHT OF HER ATOP HIM. They’re both breathing heavily: a busted lip on him that’s already beginning to congeal, a few bruises on her. Her hair is a mess, dyed strands sticking out like a bird’s nest in a storm. Their clothes are scattered across the floor somewhere in the chaos, pieces of cloth torn and spattered with flecks is blood. A tussle? More like a brawl. He said something that upset her, she returned the favor, and somehow it sparked a fight that ended with her yanking him down into a brutal kiss, biting his lip to draw blood, and clothes being torn from their person.

         THEY DON’T SPEAK. Matt’s reveling in the way his chest rises & falls in soothing rhythms, feels her own heart slowing to a tempo that lulls him into a sense of calm. His body aches, the path her nails raked down his back stings, but he could feel himself falling. And she presses closer, nudging his arm aside so that it fell around her waist, knowing he was slipping & too spent to resist her. “ Bet ya’ didn’t see that comin’, ” she cackles into his neck, the sound vibrating against his skin as she nipped — not with teeth, but lips. It doesn’t escape his notice, the fondness there beneath the mania — or maybe he’s just delusional. Either way, his grip around her waist tightens, draws her closer to the languid THUMP, THUMP! of her heart as it pulls him into an enervated trance.

        MATT WAKES BEFORE DAWN TO FIND HER CURLED AT HIS SIDE. It was in his best interest to push her away, to force her from his home. Matt should’ve done it before they even started this mess. She didn’t belong here. They don’t fit together the way they used to, two lost pieces of a puzzle too jagged from life to match. But he doesn’t get up. He stays, let’s her press deeper into his side, and sighs. Later, he thinks. Later.

[webslings]

@qquinntessential liked for a one-liner !

EYES WERE FOCUSED ON THE BUILDING AHEAD OF THEM ❛ Are you sure you want to anger your EX even more by doing this? ❜

[theclownprnc-arch]

♣ RIGHT IN THE GUTS.

@qquinntessential​ said:  “It always comes back to this with you, doesn’t it?”

“SHUT UP.”

Not sure if this gut-wrenching CHAGRIN is directed at her or rather the pointy-eared burden gliding through scattered thoughts. Maybe both. Dilated pupils shoot at the SIGNAL hopelessly fading behind dense clouds; it always comes down to THIS. The chase, the broken noses, the fractured bones. The cape, the batarangs, the knives. Where is SHE in all this? The hand on his shoulder, the reaffirming promises, the gentle kisses on battered knuckles. Heʼs not blind to this stinging ache hiding in her eyes and between the lines. But he doesn’t want to see it ( and it’s always like this ). CHILLY BREEZE ruffles green strands, the smoke of gunpowder long gone. Shoe treads scraping against damp concrete as he turns away from the city SWALLOWED BY SLUMBER. Arm stretches towards the harlequin; resigned sigh followed by a reserved half-smile that probably won’t work like CONCEALER on his earlier short-lived outburst — but one can try.

“Let’s go HOME.”

[gothamincarnate]

@qquinntessential ]

"We should leave." A nod, black nails stirred the boba tea. "But he's..." A shrug, brows raised in bewilderment. "He's him." Stabbing replaced anxious stirring. Leaned back in the chair. Tap, tap, the parasol gently thumped the concrete as he took a drink.

"You know, most normal couples would have left with the first round of punches."

Most couples didn't carry batarangs, mallets, or acid flowers. Not exactly dealing with battered spouse syndrome. Not exactly dealing with a healthy kink either. Joker was dangerous. It was a little intimidating to be in the same room, like a shark deciding not to eat you. It let's you touch, but only you. For now. The pride that you were special, chosen, a step above the rest. The least-hated & nearly loved by a madman. A mastermind. The simultaneous ego trip & ego death was disorienting. Dizzying, in an addicting & exciting way.

[dcvilcomplex-archived2]

@qquinntessential​​​ said: [ sew ]

injury prompts //  [ sew ] for one muse to have to stitch up the other 

It's been a long night, the kind that put the hell in hell's kitchen. The devil's ears still ringing, from the barrage of close range gunfire, it's nothing short of a miracle that his radar’s still working well enough to find them a secluded spot. A long abandoned drug den, far from an ideal place to administer first aid, but it would have to do, this was an emergency. 

❝ Easy ❞ 

He tells the woman to take while gently setting her down on an old couch. Not so sure she and him were on the same side, but at the moment that doesn't matter.  

❝ You've been stabbed, badly ❞

Crouching down in front of her the devil removes a glove, fingertips carefully trace down the woman's abdomen and over her wound, giving an immature x-ray. Doesn't feel or sound like anything vital was pierced, but -- He stands back up.

❝ You're going to need stitches, a lot of them ❞