:3

Just a fun lovin' girl with a mind of her own

[ivemissedyouprettybird]

Have you ever loved someone you know was wrong for you?

[ofregeneration-archive-deactiva]

  Claire nodded, rolling her lips into a tight line as the woman spoke. 

"Well, I’m definitely no use to you. Never had a broken heart before." she replied, nodding her head with an awkward and slightly uncomfortable look on her face.

After a moment of thought, she sat down on the sidewalk beside the brunette. 

"I might not be able to help, but I can listen." she said, trying to give the other woman an encouraging smile. "I guess in a  way that might help, right?"

[grxn-and-bxre-it]

Kid could be a psychiatrist. At this point, Harley would never recommend that course. She used to be someone else entirely, but who was that person? She had never been happy before Him. Never felt an empathetic connection either until she found someone to care about. 

"Talking can help," she said. Or hurt the listener. She'd know. "I used to be," she began, and she remembered what her Puddin' had taught her. How to get a joke. Even the Batman had laughed and he never did and she'd never want to hear him laugh again.

"I used to be half way--normal, I guess. It was boring but I was going places! Had a gymnastics scholarship and I was real good too. Better than anyone you'd see on the TV. But I was empty inside, and life wasn't happy, or fun. It was so heavy all the time. Breathing was even heavy for me, though I didn't know it then. I was kinda alone and I was too used to being alone to know any better." 

"Then I met my --ex. He was unlike anyone I'd ever met. He is unlike anyone in the world. He made life---Life, like the actual thing you hear about!" She grinned but that faltered. " But nobody got 'im and he said he went through this --bad time. But I thought I understood him. I fell in love with him and just wanted to make him happy." 

...

"But it was all a big joke. He lied to me. I gave up my life for 'im and he lied to me. I can't go back to who I was. I can't. I gave up everything. I don't even want to go back, but I hurt so bad. He did all that and I'd forgive him in an instant if he just---took me back, let me breathe him. Just share a bit of his...." 

Raw power, his genius, his existence. 

"--But he's not going to take me back. Not this time. I'm too stupid to get it." 

[sickxride-blog]

  His lips curled in a wry smile, and politely, Pestilence wiped the blood from his mouth. He has the wonderful, wonderful feeling they were still continuing with that delightful little thread of irony.

"…You wouldn’t be psychiatric, would you?"

[grxn-and-bxre-it]

Harley let out a low -wolf-whistle. 

"Not too shabby. Yeah. I'm a psychiatrist and still am. A lot of people..." she shook her head. "They don't appreciate my hands-on approach." 

"--You're skin is meltin' off. I don't know. Not my specialty--technically. I can make that go faster but stoppin' it, I'm out of ideas." 

[sickxride-blog]

  "You don’t say."

A weak smile. Pestilence feigned frailty at that, dragging a handkerchief out of his pocket and drawing it up to his mouth. 

"Funnily enough, I am a doctor.”

[grxn-and-bxre-it]

"That, I can believe!" Harley yelled, laughing, suddenly very amused. "Us doctors. We aren't very good at healing our own selves huh? But it's the sickness that captivates! Makes life worth livin'. Uh, no offense." 

She beamed then grew very serious. 

Very serious. 

She leaned forward. 

"Guess what kind of doctor I am." 

[sickxride-blog]

  Funny, yes, but for how long? Stomping down on that little thread of irriation, Pestilence kept coughing, kept coughing, the noise growing ragged and discordant and wet.

Seconds passed and blood peeked through his fingers, vibrant red painting his palms.

[grxn-and-bxre-it]

"I think you're sick," Harley observed. 

"You know, I'm not askin', --formally or anything, but why don't you go to a doctor? You aren't a criminal or something--are ya?" 

Curiosity piqued. 

[sickxride-blog]

A arduous and suffering cough rumbled from deep within his chest. Pestilence gave an apologetic look, drawing his hands over his mouth.

"—Sorry. Cold/cough season, I’m sure it’ll pass."

[grxn-and-bxre-it]

"Aw, that's okay, sweetie--

-it doesn't have to." 

She wasn't that kind of doctor, but boy, what a sicko. She crossed her arms and got comfortable. Ever since Red gave her a little boost, Harley hasn't had too many of those awful colds--

And it was always funny when it happened to someone else. 

[ofregeneration-archive-deactiva]

  Claire walked outside of her apartment and nearly ran right over the brunette. She stepped back and looked down at the sobbing woman, eyes widening slightly.

"Umm…are you alright?" Claire asked, brows furrowing together.

"No one can help you if you’re just sitting on the sidewalk sobbing." she mused, shifting the purse on her shoulder. "And if you don’t tell them what they’re supposed to help you with."

[grxn-and-bxre-it]

Harley blinked for a moment.

She was wailing her heart out, what did this girl think? But she was moved by the presence of an audience. A blonde young girl who had a sweetheart of her own. She looked overly serious, though, but Harley wasn't surprised. She wasn't asking for help--really. 

Maybe she was a little. Did this kid just come out of a nice apartment? 

"Aw, what's the use?" she said out-loud. "No one can help with a broken heart." 

"--my heart's broken, in case you missed that-."

[ha-harleyquinn]

Harley Quinn Vol. 1 | Issue #001.

[ha-harleyquinn]

Harley Quinn Vol. 1 | Issue #001.

[st3v13e-deactivated20160228]

[ha-harleyquinn]

[tkim90]

[inactivearchive22-deactivated20]

[ghuol-deactivated20130926]

[grxn-and-bxre-it]

Harley had no idea what to do without Him. 

--And that was no metaphor. She had no idea....what to do. Her mind was occupied with only her man, the one who made her the most special (person) in the world, and now look at this mess. 

It was her fault. 

Harley had enough energy to turn into a bottle brunette and that was all. She tried to turn her mind to schemes that would win him back in her arms. 

(but she wasn't any good, no more)

So she sat down on the curb in this strange town of new freaks alone and didn't care about crying. 

"What do I do?" 

'Won't somebody tell me?" 

[detectivecrews]

  "I liked the cartoons too," he smiled leaning back in his chair, "Bugs Bunny. Every Sunday morning."

Of course this therapy had been a good idea, good job Sgt. Davis. And the Doctor Kerr seemed interesting. He liked her style. Even if she’d forgotten Bugs’ name (or maybe she was just being professional).

"I never thought about them that way," Charlie frowned contemplating, "I guess you’re right, huh? Ah well, you should see the things kids watch now days. It makes me blush.”

They’d sent him to her for a reason. And her next question probably made sense according to some branch in the field. He asked odd questions in his line too.

"I don’t, still settling in to the new house. Besides, work,"and his private investigation, "Keeps me pretty busy. I did always want a dog though."

[grxn-and-bxre-it]

Harley jotted down some notes. 

This was the fun part of the parade. 

"Animals are a large responsibility," she said. "Police dogs of course are honored members of your squad, so you have those animals too."

--not feeling a part of the squad, feeling disconnected from their unity. Good, good. He had wanted a dog so pack mentality did suit his thoughts, this idea of family. He didn't say he was a cat person after all and neither was she. 

--Same, what her babies did to police dogs. Never sat well with her but what could you do. 

"At the same time, you did put here that you have a roommate? He could care for the dog. Why is that not an option?" 

[narcissistic--monstrosity]

{ Place One in My Inbox - Questions Edition }

Can work as an ice breaker, starter maker, or just a simple little ask meme.

"Am I dead?"

"Another one?"

"And what if I don’t?"

"Are you afraid of God?"

"Are you crazy?”

"Are you lost?"

"Are you really that shallow?"

"Are you sure it’s okay?"

"Are you sure there were no survivors?"

"Can I trust you?"

"Can we go now?"

"Can we not fight tonight?"

"Can’t or won’t?"

"Do you even care about how I feel?"

"Do you expect me to believe that?"

"Do you have any idea what you just did?"

"Do you love me?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"How could you do this?"

"How did you escape?"

"How long has it been since you last slept?"

"How long have you been there?"

"Is that blood behind your ear?"

"Is that really a gamble you’re willing to make?"

"Just go, alright?"

"Mind if I sleep here tonight?"

"Really?"

"Tell me: have you ever been afraid like this?"

"That’s the best you could come up with?"

"Wait, were you being sarcastic or…?"

"Want to hear a secret?"

"Was I the only one who thought that?"

"Well, that’s what I said, isn’t it?"

"What are you?"

"What are you doing here?"

"What do I have to say to make you understand?"

"What do you keep writing in that notebook?"

"What do you want with me?"

"What happened?"

"What if you stayed this time?"

"What if… what if I don’t want to be free?"

"What’s in it for me?"

"What’s in it for you?"

"When have I ever lied to you?"

"Where did you go?"

"Where did you last see it?"

"Where’s the rest of the body?"

"Who are you?"

"Who did this to you?"

"Why are you so angry?"

"Why are you so calm about this?"

"Why do you have this urge to control people all the time?"

"Why do you keep doing this to me?"

"Why do you have to make everything about you?"

"Why does it always have to be alcohol?"

"Why don’t you come over here and prove it?"

"Why is the truth so important to you?"

"Why should I help you?"

"Wouldn’t that be nice?"

"You don’t remember me?"

"You expect me to believe you haven’t done this before?"

"You’ve been pretending all this time?"