#qquinntessential

coming in through the window wasn’t as practical as the door,   but it was within the comfort zone so sometimes she did it even whenever she wasn’t out as her alter ego.   shoes were toed off under the sill where the rest of hers lived,  including the boots she wore in costume.   it was really late and a part of her doubted her roommate was there and if she was,  she likely would be asleep.   sneaking wasn’t a strong suit of harley’s.   no,   she was very boisterous with every step and word.   quite different to how selina navigated the world  :  slinking,   silent,   like the animal she adopted her name after.   who would have thought?   head of blonde hair popped from a doorway and if selina wouldn’t have been on her toes already,   she would have jumped.   it’s hard to startle someone who makes it a point to be as aware of her surroundings as possible.   ❝  jesus,  harls,   what the fuck are you doing up so late?  ❞   she supposed the same could have been asked of her,   but harley likely knew  :  scoping out a potential target.   

@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. 

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

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​ 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.

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.

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.

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.