Your Har Har Harley

Independent RP / Ask blog for Harleen Quinzel / Harley Quinn

Nolan-based with personal musings, headcanons, film, game, tv show and some comic knowledge all thrown in together.

FC: Kaley Cuoco-Sweeting

10+ years of rp / 2+ on Tumblr

Mutli ship, multi verse, multi everything.

OC / Crossover / AU friendly

Skype for mutuals

SMS / Script&Chat / Para / Multi Para / Novella threads

About || Read First || Rules || Verses || Open RP || Important Tags

#promo

I'm like the Beatles, I make the people cry and scream. . Independent Ask / RP blog for a Nolanised...

I’ve moved to a new blog - it’s basically the same. This one is staying at least for some time while I move my 1500+ posts over.

If you want to RP you can follow me over there instead : D

Victor looked at her body in his periphery while ostensibly keeping his eyes on her face. She looked good. More in shape than she had been in Arkham. Crime, apparently, did a body good. But to see her in the colors of her chosen knight—that was strange. Again the urge to rip it off of her rose in him like sour bile, and again he suppressed it.

But some things in life would always be sweet. The expressiveness of the face of Doctor Quinzel had always been a win for him, easier to read and easier to re-write. He could see that she was angry with him. He had expected that, of course, but the lack of followthrough left him slightly deflated. Instead, she returned to meaningless parts of their earlier conversation. Textbook female, textbook shrink, textbook insecurity. By all rights, she should have bored him completely.

“Yes,” he said, before he thought better of it. He did miss the really excellent, regular sex with her, and the way she listened to him in the sessions—since she was paid to—and the way she listened to him outside of the sessions—like she wanted to. These were qualifications to the original statement that Victor regarded as unnecessary.

Harley's eyes narrowed slightly at his response, uncertain if she should believe him or not. After all, he was a liar. It was unlikely Victor had missed her, at least - she doubted he would. He didn't seem the lonely type. She was not stupid enough to believe that she was special to him.

But what reason did he have to lie about it?

He'd made his intentions towards her clear and one more roll in the hay was not on the cards - unless he somehow believed it was...

Perhaps she was putting too much thought into it.

"Well. That's nice." What could she talk to him about now? He no longer held her heart on a string so she didn't care to talk about his deeper pain - Which apparently left them with nothing. "Are you keeping well?" She offered the topic up like a lamb for sacrifice, fairly certain he would grow bored soon.

#answer machine #misterzsasz

Slurred words!

"So... So he shows up at t' warehouse. Bold as fuckin' brass 'n' y'-y' can see Mistah J don't like it all that much because - who does he think he is, jus' jus' lettin' himself in like that? But he's here t' talk he says - admires what J did at the kint-er-garten. But the fucker - he kept on watchin' me - just outright eye fuckin' me eveywhere I was. and I can feel J gettin' all twitchy because it was so brazen. Then the pair of them were watchin' me like a pack'a animals... I had t' get outta there before he did. Creepy fuck'd probably try to sneak into the bedroom afterwards. He's got a thing for that you know... Thinks he's fuckin' Romeo at my balcony or somethin'...

And y' know - y' know what? He's a little freak box! Have you seen pictures of his mother? Charlene? Huh? Fuckin' mommy issues or what? An' an you know what? That stupid game... The one kids play? Fuck, kill... something? I think he just wants to do all three with me, little freak box."

"I'm doing fine." Harley said cautiously, the nuances of his conversation a little unsettling. Who went from lewdity to pleasantries so quickly?

Well apparently Victor Zsasz.

"And yourself?"

It was tempting to bait him - not because she had a death with but because, suddenly and unheeded - annoyance at him rose. He had not played fair when she had been his doctor. He'd lied and he'd twisted her, played with her.

She wanted to mock him, but it left her open - she'd mock his tears and sensitivity to therapy. He'd ask if she'd truly believed it. And soon they'd be a tangle limbs on the floor, riding the line between fucking and fighting.

So she held her tongue, and seethed silently at the liar before her.

"Did you really miss me?"

“Someone tried to kill me,” he said, his voice ragged and raw as if with deep emotion. “I think—they’d already killed someone—I don’t think anyone else would believe me.”

He brushed a strand of her hair off her shoulder, focusing until his eyes shone with unshed tears. “Wherever I go, it’s as if death just—follows me. Someone wants me dead, Doctor.”

His hands closed over her shoulders, creasing the fabric of her shirt under his strong fingers.

“I don’t want them to get you. They’ve killed everything else beau—everything else in my life.”

He leaned forward, right hand sliding up the side of her neck. She felt good in his hands. He kissed her, long and slow, squeezing his eyes shut. Again, it was better than he expected. Victor pulled back for a brief moment, resting his forehead against hers.

“I’m not crazy,” he said, making his voice wobble just a little. He could almost feel the spotlight. “You know that, right?”

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he whispered, running his thumb over her lower lip, up her jaw, curling it behind her ear.

“Someone tried to kill me,”

Who? The words elicited a mild flurry of panic in Harleen. He wasn't giving her much even as his eyes filled with tears. Was it someone at the Asylum? A doctor? And orderly? Or just some faceless boogey man? Or as he told her that he thought they'd already killed someone - a patient? He'd obviously gotten out of his cell... Was there some kind of breakout happening?

His words certainly sounded paranoid - death, following him? But then again he'd lost his parents... He'd lost his fortune, his reputation... She slid further down the door to kneel with him on the floor. However it was - was trying to hurt him, and might hurt her. She barely had time to notice he'd nearly called her beautiful.

She let him kiss her - but this time conflict tore through her as she lifted a hand to his cheek, as she returned the kiss. Breathing heavily, she studied him as best she could once he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers. She left one hand on his cheek, taking one of his hands in the other.

His assertion that he wasn't crazy made him seem just a little bit more crazy, because no crazy person thinks they're crazy, do they?

"Who's trying to hurt you Victor?" She whispered, back, looking at him closely, but not entirely suspicious. He could, after all be telling the truth. "You can tell me." She reassured him, sweeping her thumb over those stunning cheekbones.

"You saved me," he said, with uncharacteristic honesty. "I didn’t deserve it," he added, with a characteristic lie.

"Say you missed me too, Harleen." He matched her smile, suppressing the urge to wipe his dirty hand on her silly new costume.

#so apparently i cant do 'short posts'#sorry e.e #misterzsasz

"Saved you?" Harley echoed.

She doubted it, looking at him now... But then again, if she thought of her own liberation from the muck and the filth of her life before. Maybe she had. She could have kept him locked up, kept him hidden away... Instead she fucked him and freed him to carry on 'his work'.

He'd tried to work on her.

He had nearly succeeded.

She'd be dead now... Or possibly worse. Maybe she'd still be at that Asylum, dead and lonely on the inside - truly the zombie Victor saw others as...

But would she have fallen for the Joker had she not known Zsasz before? Had she not had the experience, the knowledge from him?

"I missed you too, Victor." She said breathlessly, not sure if it was true or not, not sure if that was the right word for the complicated emotions she held for him - but certain that it was best to attempt to appease him.

Harleen Frances Quinzel

Half-blood | Sixth year Ravenclaw | Chaser

Phoenix Feather | Cherry Wood | 10 1/4"

Biography

Harleen was born to a muggle mother and a wizard father. Her father used to tell his young daughter that - while her mother had no magic, she'd certainly cast a spell on him. A young Harleen would be delighted by this and would giggle at the wink her father shot her after the story of how they met like nothing in the world was funnier.

Her childhood was not filled with riches, but nor was it steeped in poverty. They could afford a holidays once a year and birthdays were always special with an outpouring of gifts - only ostentatious in the sheer amount. It was obvious from a young age that Harleen would be following her father to Hogwarts - she showed early signs of magic during her imaginative play and was a bright, friendly, chatty child - raised with plenty of love.

Her father's family was not pureblood and so his union with his muggle wife, while it raised a couple of eyebrows did not bring out prejudice and it was only later - when she came to Hogwarts she realised her parentage might be a problem for some people.

Arriving at Hogwarts Harleen was easily sorted into Ravenclaw. She lacked the cutthroat ambition of a slytherin, the work ethic of a hufflepuff and while she certainly wasn't a coward - she savoured soaking up the world around her like a sponge.

Harleen found Ravenclaw a very amenable place to be - some of her fellow students may have looked down on her because - while smart - she was not studious and happy to skate on by - never trying for higher grades, just getting what she could as a baseline.

More recently, her father's been getting ill. Not being around him as often as her mother, the change in both her parents is alarming. Her father is becoming forgetful and confused. Her mother is becoming more bitter that there is nothing muggle doctors or magical healers seem to be able to do to help in the long term.

Skills

Harleen is one of those people. Those people who somehow get a higher mark on the test - despite not studying - than you, when you were up all last night trying to cram the properties of dragon's blood into your brain. She is a knowledge sponge

She does well enough in charms, transfiguration, defence against the dark arts, and potions - but could do better if she would only apply herself. Her weakness lie in astronomy, history of magic and herbology - but again it is a lack of application that causes her failings here. She could do so much better if she would study.

She does well at making friends and plans - though quite the slacker and occasionally more interested in gossip than the Slytherin girls Harleen is very smart and usually very good at reading people.

Athletic and keen - she is a chaser for the Ravenclaw team, taking risks possibly a little bit more than necessary in order to score a goal..

Personality

Harleen is a bubbly, friendly girl who really just wants to help her friends. She'd rather be on the quidditch pitch than in the stuffy old library, and if there is fun to be found, you know she'll be there - cheering on the pranksters but trying not to get implicated - even though she very much wants to be involved.

She has returned to her sixth year a little dour - a little more brooding - her father seemed to be deteriorating over the summer and it concerns her at quiet moments... Which seems to have only made her a little bit more boisterous and loud.

Highly curious and smart, Harleen needs to be involved in everything, whether it's some complicated prank on a professor or student and just the latest gossip about that girl from fifth year and the seventh year who got caught in the broom closet together!

#hogwartnights

No? NO?!

He must have misheard her.

"I missed you," he said, avoiding the question, sliding a finger down her cheek. It came away covered in white grease paint. Ugh.

He was close enough to touch. He was close enough to strike.

What was a girl to say to that? She could lie, but there was a chance he'd see right through it.

"We did have our good times." She told him, even managing a smile for him.

#respectthemindspower #meme #drabble

00:00:00

In a universe where everyone is born with numbers on their wrists counting down to when they’ll meet their soulmate, send me 00:00:00 for my muses reaction to their numbers hitting zero when they meet yours.

After Eric - who had apparently been her soulmate - their wedding photo had included the traditional wrist picture of their timers together and everything - which meant she was supposed to be his soul mate too - Harleen barely looked at her wrist.

Occasionally old ladies would smile at it and then look at her pointedly which outright infuriated her. She wanted to scream at them ‘It’s broken! It doesn’t work! I found him in bed with two other girls!’.

Today was no different until…

"Not long now, is it?"

"Huh?" Harley frowned.

The woman nodded at her wrist. “Looks like it’s gonna be today. And you’ve obviously tried very hard. He’ll love you anyway, sweet pea, he’s your soul mate after all!”

And like that, the woman was on her way, leaving a stunned Harleen rooted to the spot staring at her wrist. The numbers were ticking down, and rapidly.

Her heart was hammering… What?

She’d heard stories… Stories of people who were not monogamous (and not in the same way as Eric) who’s clocks would restart, loves who lost their soul mates early in life… or late in life… Who’s clocks had restarted. But she’d told herself it was merely myth and rumour. There was no way to prove it. It was for people who were hurt at the idea of being alone forever or even worse who were born… Blank.

After all, it wasn’t worth it if it wasn’t perfect was it?

She was dressed up because she was starting her new job today… She wanted to make a good impression.

It wouldn’t be a patient would it?

She didn’t think she could take that.

She moved towards the Asylum in a daze, walking as slowly as possible watching the minutes tick down. She’d be late… But it couldn’t be a patient, it just couldn’t… She hovered outside, dancing from one foot to the other - trying to balance being late the first day of her new job, a job that she needed against the minutes remaining on her flesh. The minutes were moving achingly slow.

She could wait no longer. She raced inside, praying, begging some unknown deity for assistance.

"You must be Dr. Quinzel, I’m Dr. Hector Burton…" She barely heard him, but saw his gaze flick to her wrist and then to his own. "I’ll go get your escort for you."

With sheer force of will she forced herself to lower her arm to a more natural position. She’d hit seconds.

She saw him approaching, with ten seconds left on the clock - all ice blue eyes and cheekbones, dark and tall… Eric if he’d been thin.

"Dr. Quinzel, this is Dr. Crane."

His eyes swept her from toe to top, flashing behind his glasses. Her clock zero’d out. “You’re late Miss Quinn.” He told her coldly. “We will have to make up the time.”Did he not know? Did he not care?

"Are you coming? You’ve left us no time for lollygagging."

In truth, Crane had not checked his wrist since Sherri had cleared it before breaking his heart, so he’d not noticed it ticking away this morning - he would never know.

00:00:00

Harleen couldn't stop staring at her wrist, between the brief glances up as she walked. She'd barely slept a wink last night, watching the numbers tick down. The universe was clearly playing tricks on her, the seconds were crawling past, she'd glance up - perhaps that man there... In the suit? She'd look back down and nearly a whole minute would have gone... No, not the guy in the suit then - surely not that woman...

Sixty seconds.

Her heart was hammering.

People could tell, an old couple smiled at her knowingly the table of a street cafe as she span around wildly, desperately searching for someone as blatantly close to finding out their soul mate as she was.

She'd spent so long getting ready this morning... She'd hardly eaten she was so nervous. What if her soul mate didn't like the red blouse she'd chosen??

Thirty seconds.

There was no one. No one rushing, no one checking their wrists.

Twenty seconds.

Maybe she should run into the road. What if they were in a car and would just drive past without knowing? But then again, who would drive knowing they were so close?

Eighteen seconds.

Or maybe. Maybe they'd slam on the breaks, dramatically as their clock ran out, exit their car and sweep her off her feet, pressing a searing kiss on her lips...

Ten seconds.

She was going to die. She just was.

Five seconds

Four seconds

Three Seconds

Two Seconds

ONE SECOND!!

Harleen looked up - but there was no one there. No eyes to catch her gaze, no soft mouth to crinkle into a smile. What - what did this mean?

Before she had time to contemplate it, she had been knocked to the ground. In a tangle of arms and legs she lifted her gaze to meet his. "I'm so sorry - I... I'm in a rush..." He pointed to his own wrist. "Are you, are you okay?"

He was like... A child. He could hardly be eighteen could he?

"No." She told him flatly, not sure if she was answering his question, or refusing him as her soul mate.

#alongcamethespidey #along-came-the-spidey #drabble #meme #along came the spidey

"I was trying to help," He’s almost petulant. "Does it help that I think it’s sexy that you survived?"

"Do you want to try again? I’ll screw you if you wash off the clown paint."

#misterzsasz #omg i love them so much

"No."

On both counts.

Maybe.

"What're y' doin' sneakin' around anyway, y' creeper?"

Victor remembered the last time his brain had worked this fast. He’d been sixteen, sitting in the middle of his room on far too much cocaine, his heart hammering so loud and fast in his ears that he was sure he was going to die. Thoughts swirled like hurricane clouds, and the only one he could get a grip on was ‘I’m /fucked/.”

But he had grown in action and wisdom since then, and he knew much more about fucking. This wasn’t his end. Not here, not now, not with her.

He should just kill her—!

He could do it so easily, so nobly. Bash her forehead into the locked doorknob and set her free. Suffocate her with her thigh high stockings.

That thought swirled around the hurricane again, bright and tempting amidst the confused morass.

But he couldn’t just take her right now, right here. Well, actually, he certainly could—(put the stocking in her mouth when she gets loud, and just keep pushing— and pushing— and pushing—)

He hid his erection by turning from her, suddenly, his mouth still hot and sticky from her lipstick. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” he said, and dropped to the floor, letting the borrowed sweatshirt pool in his treacherous lap.

"Don’t answer the door, whatever you do."

He reached out a hand and grabbed hers, his eyes burning.

"Promise me."

He really fucking hoped she was buying it.

Her lips, her body, her mind still burned and ached with Victor's absence - never so acutely aware of needing someone close this much before. But through the burning haze of desire, sense was starting to wade through. She'd just locked herself into a room with a man accused of horrible murders... Never mind the fact the evidence seemed purely circumstantial, unfounded. Never mind the fact he'd willingly submitted himself here... She fought down the excuses as they bubbled up.

He was her patient if absolutely nothing else.

But as he fell to his knees before her, grabbing at her hands, talking like, well a mad man - she was distracted from the fact once more, sucked into the intensity in his eyes.

Still pressed against the door, she crouched down a bit, creating a rather comical image in silhouette.

"Victor - what's going on?" SHe asked, finding her voice and her firm tone once more.

"You gonna kick me?" he said, scuffing the toe of one combat boot in the dirt. "It really hurt, doctor.”

"Don't y' try to pull that vulnerable innocent shit with me, Vicky. Y' fuckin' deserved more than that kick."

He laughed, genuinely amused and not in the least bit contrite.

"Don’t be like that. doctor, aren’t you glad to see me?"

His palms began to sweat.

"You started it."

"I dunno. Y' gonna try 'n' choke me again?"