HARLEEN FRANCES QUINZEL

.................hi guys.....i’m not dead, but this blog might be

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“but dolly, why do you headcanon harley quinn as a gemini??”

 “Yeah, but - !” Pushing herself off the windowsill, Korra advances into the apartment with a progressively excited pace, her mind racing with all the bottled thoughts she’d poorly contained on the way over here. Harley’s hesitant enthusiasm about high school doesn’t even come close to denting this built up image of a teenage oasis that the TV has already molded into her brain.

“You get to go on these secret night road trips, and there’s diners with milkshakes—you even have your own mailbox, even though you’re not an adult! And other students put mail in them! Sometimes it’s these little heart shaped ones.” Valentine’s Day is a concept she has yet to learn, but the emphasis of importance that seems to be the case in all of these teenage ‘romantic-dramadies’ has her believe that it’s something amazing - maybe even like Christmas ( though nothing can top Christmas ).

“—And the final ritual! Where you have to find a person to dance with in the gym because I guess it’s training? But for some reason everyone tries to lose…” Korra frowns, folding her arms across her chest. “I don’t remember the word, but when you lose it’s a good thing and you become really cool!” Something about Virginia? Though she’s got not idea what that’d have to do with anything… 

“So anyway, I was wondering if we could go to one? A school, I mean. Grandpa thinks I should be homeschooled, but… it can’t hurt if I just… visit one, right? Or maybe I can sneak in. What do you think?”

Oh. Oh boy. 

As Korra rambles, Harley struggles to hide the growing dread that builds in the back of her mind. Her young friend is so new to all of this, so innocent to the reality that television masks with pretty faces and easily-resolved conflicts. How can she explain all of this without breaking her heart, or shattering her hope? How could Harley, in good conscience, stand there and tell Korra that everything she thinks to be true is wrong?

Something occurs to her now, and it really ought to have come up before--but Harley realizes Korra is in desperate need of some friends her own age. Because trying to explain losing one’s virginity is a task Harley does not feel prepared for. 

“...Well,” she begins hesitantly, “I think--I think maybe homeschoolin’ ain’t such a terrible idea.” Because throwing Korra into a high school setting without preparation sounds like a recipe for disaster of multiple kinds. Harley considers sneaking Korra in, but quickly dismisses it, knowing that she’d be found out almost immediately. “But--well, maybe we can talk ta someone, see if y’can shadow for a day or two. Ya’know, follow a student around, see what it’s like. Get a taste’a high school.”

   “Please don’t.” 

   He can only imagine what a man in the kitchen holding a skillet in one hand and a bread knife in the other must look like.

   “Look, when you said you needed my help, you didn’t mention that help was going to involve the underground version of Chopped.” The Fullmetal reference goes over his head, however. “Either I get an explanation, or I’m going back to my very calm, very crime-less night in.”

“Well! It ain’t my fault that explosive pies would naturally end up in a kitchen setting!” 

Wait. Had she not explained what exactly they were doing here? 

Well, whatever. He’s still being a baby about it. “Okay, okay,” she begins, opening a drawer to rummage through it for potential weapons. “Calm down, Robocop, I got reasons.” If she has to take a second to explain, she’s at least going to do something productive. 

Speaking of dicks– which is something Ivy never enjoys doing– Harley’s hypocrisy is thick enough to choke her like one.

From her perch at her workstation, she stares at the other woman with something like keen observation. She knows Harley Quinn better than she knows anyone else– perhaps better than herself, even. ( Who and what she is becomes more and more a mystery each day. ) And she knows it didn’t even occur to the mercurial Miss Quinn just how on-the-nose her assessment of their sometimes-companion is.

“Screwing the Batman has always made Selina different from us.” It’s true. It’s also always given her special treatment, which Ivy loathes. “But she’s hardly the only woman in our little merry band of misfits to screw me over to please a man.”

Her tone is as arched and pointed as her eyebrow.

“It doesn’t feel very good, does it, Harleen?”

It comes from seemingly nowhere, that comment, and it hits Harley hard, right in the gut. Ivy’s biting question is met with an uncharacteristic silence, accompanied by a wide-eyed, utterly wounded expression--and, for a few seemingly-eternal seconds, Harley Quinn can truly think of no response. 

“...Red...” she finally manages, tone both pleading and pitiful. She maintains eye contact for a fleeting moment, but soon, shame knocks her gaze to the floor, her lip trembling along with her voice. “C’mon, that ain’t fair.”

But the worst part is that Harley knows Ivy is right. She always is, to some extent, and although Harley can claim victimhood and innocence forever, that doesn’t change the fact that she has, time and time again, chosen the Joker over her best friend. It’s a fatal flaw, an addictive behavior that leaves behind a queasy black pool of guilt in her stomach. And yet for every time Harley’s thrown away their friendship, there’s been a time she’s gone crawling into Pamela’s arms, begging for her care and affection. Harley’s not an idiot--she knows by now that what she does is cruel. An act of selfishness masked by need, all wrapped up in a sickly sweet package of flighty romance.

     “Yeah, yeah I did,” he said with a smile, more caring about getting his money back then how hurt he had gotten. Oswald had gotten hurt far too many times in his life to care about that.

     “I’m sure I won’t. He didn’t hurt me that badly and you know what you’re doing,” he shrugged and rolled his shoulders. “Since I got my money back and all did you wanna go somewhere? I made the effort to get it back, so I might as well do something with it.”

Beaming, Harley leaned back, tucking her remaining first-aid supplies back into her pocket. Oz was clearly getting restless, and besides, she’d gotten the worst of his injuries patched up.  “Well, lucky fer you, my shift as a triage nurse seems ta be ova’ now,” she teased, “so my schedule’s free an’ clear. Where ya thinkin’?” 

Starfire accepts the hyena with ease, happy to coddle and coo at her. “Ooh, she is as sweet as the pie!”

“There is another? I should hope one day he shall overcome his shyness! I would be glad to pet him as well!” But for now, she’s content to cuddle Oatie in her arms. “Oh! I should introduce you to Silkie!”

Oatie seems more than happy to be showered with attention, nuzzling close to Starfire with a goofy grin. In this moment, Harley looks uncannily like a happy mother whose infant is the star of the show. 

Still, she perks up at the mention of Starfire’s pet, eyes alight with excitement.