˖ ✧˚.⋆ 🅳🅴🅰🅻 🅼🅴 🅸🅽 ❖

𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔣𝔞𝔰𝔱, 𝔡𝔦𝔢 𝔠𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔫

[quinnsanity]

ᗪOᑎ'T ᗯOᖇᖇY, I'ᗰ Ꭿ ᑭᖇOᖴESSIOᑎᎯᒪ !!

♦ ♠ ♥ ♣ SELECTIVE and MULTI-PARA&NOVELLA independent roleplay blog for Harley Quinn !! Crossover and OC friendly. Heavily influenced by Rebirth-era DC Comics, as well as animation. Several verses available, may diverge from canon. Written by Senna; she/her/any; 25+; MST.

❖ ⋆˚⟡ carrd for mobile || info page for desktop ⟡ ⋆˚❖ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆✧˖° promo post !! ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 pinned & psd & transparent divider by floragfx

[quinnsanity]

Coming back soon! Had some anxiety this week about it tho idk why. I'll reply to any posts I owe/write what I owe and tag! I understand if some are no longer interested tho no hard feelings 🧡

[quinnsanity]

Just updating. I say in my personal info page that I have chronic fatigue. The last three weeks of August are the busiest time of year for my work so I've been absolutely slaughtered. I thought I could keep up with hobbies and stuff but I haven't, basically work, eat, sleep lol. I've been doing 60hr weeks. It will be normal hours for me again in September and I hope to be back to writing proper once I get some rest!

I'll post if/when I'm able in the meantime! I'm really sorry tho. I am just completely dead. I'm not chatty with my irl friends right now either. I hope to be back to normal and chatting with everyone again soon! One more week of crazy work then I can sleep like I'm dead and get back to fun things lmao

I appreciate every writing partner and everyone who keeps up with me. Much love. I have not disappeared.

[quinnsanity]

cont || @ign1tes

♦ ♠ ♥ ♣ A small, satisfied smile played on Harley's lips as the blue flames flickered and died, and the man sank down on the ledge next to her. He stayed. That, she decided, was a good start. His chuckle held a secret, a dark little joke she felt she might just get a piece of. If anything, she always wanted to be in on the joke !! But that quiet admission of "being a ghost ain’t that bad," well, that was a tune she knew too well. It was a sad, lonely song, and it made the playful glint in her eyes soften just a little.

"Listen, don't you ever sell your afterlife short!" she said as she leaned in slightly. "Being a ghost is only fun if you can haunt the living! You gotta rattle some chains, move some things around when no one's lookin'. Otherwise, you're just… dead. And that's no fun at all." She tilted her head, pigtails bouncing as she did, watching his profile against the distant glow of the city. He had something to live for, he'd said, but nothing "good." What's 'good' anyway?

Her smile returned, sharper this time. "So, you're a ghost with a cause. A revenge spree? Chasin’ ghosts of your own?" She nudged him gently with her elbow, a playful tease in the gesture. "Sounds like a real party! But darlin', if you're gonna haunt, you gotta do it with style. And you gotta find your ‘normal’ again, even if it’s a brand-new kind of normal. Trust me, I know a thing or two about reinventing yourself." She paused, a new idea sparking in her eyes.

"What kind of ghosts are you chasing, anyhow?"

[quinnsanity]

HGJDHFIYU where does time go i swear

trying to post tonight/tomorrow! (or sooner but my manager is at work right now and she's usually not here 👀 🤣)

[quinnsanity]

@mercism asked: "hey you got something behind your ear. " he says. his palm fisting an origami swan which he pretends to pull out of her lobe. holding it in both hands he feels proud beneath his mask , somewhat too proud even, "wonder how that got there. " || and prompt (accepting)

♦ ♠ ♥ ♣ It wasn't every day Harley Quinn found herself in a diner that looked like it had been lifted straight out of a fifty-year-old movie. The flickering neon sign for 'EAT' cast a sickly, pulsing glow over the cracked asphalt of the parking lot, and the air inside was a thick, greasy soup of forgotten french fries and weak coffee. Harley sat in a red vinyl booth that smelled faintly of lemon-scented cleaner and mould, idly spinning a straw in her untouched milkshake. She was just about to find a way to liven things up a bit - perhaps by stacking all the sugar packets into a teetering pyramid - when a voice cut through.

"Hey, you got something behind your ear."

Harley's hand instinctively went to her ear, even though she knew there was nothing there. It was a little game, and she was always willing to play. A mischievous grin spread across her face as she watched the masked weirdo pull an origami swan from thin air. She tilted her head, her pigtails flopping over one shoulder as she examined the tiny paper bird. It was actually quite well-folded. Impressive. Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she looked back up at him.

"Well, look at that! A tiny birdie! Maybe it's a message from the universe, tellin' me to fly away!" she chirped, snatching the swan from his hands with a practiced flick of her wrist. She held it up to the light, pretending to inspect it for hidden meaning.

"Or maybe it's just a sign that you're a weirdo with a thing for paper crafts. Either way, I'm into it!" She set the swan carefully on the table next to her milkshake, then leaned forward, her elbows on the sticky surface. "So, you doin' magic tricks now? Or did you just happen to have a bunch of paper swans hangin' out in your pocket?" Her smile widened. "I've got some firecrackers in mine if you wanna make it a real show!"

[quinnsanity]

cont || @helraising

♦ ♠ ♥ ♣ "So, 'not friends,' huh?" Harley tipped her head, a pout forming. "And 'not fun?' You wound me, darling! Right here!" She pointed vaguely at her heart, then poked Huntress playfully in the arm. "We're practically joined at the hip, savin' Gotham from overgrown paperweights! That's gotta count for somethin'!" Her eyes narrowed slightly as Huntress warned her about prison and chances. "Handcuffs, prison, chances...blah, blah, blah," she waved a dismissive hand, though the lightness in her tone didn't quite reach her eyes. "Relax, mama bear. I ain't lookin' for a permanent residence in the big house. Just a good time. And savin' my own bacon from hungry metal beasts counts as a good time in my book!" She giggled, a sharp, delighted sound, then her eyes darted to the street below as another sickening CRUNCH echoed up, a delivery truck folding like cheap laundry.

"Woah, woah, woah! Slow your roll, tin cans!" Harley muttered, a genuine frown creasing her brow. "They are getting bigger! And faster!" She saw the venom in Huntress's face when 'Batsy' came up, and Harley just gave a slow, knowing wink. "Rich boys with their toys, always ruining the fun for the rest of us. These rusty rascals are gonna eat the whole city before he even finishes his brooding."

Harley watched as Huntress's rigid posture softened, just a fraction, a hint of overwhelmed exhaustion slipping through the cracks. "Breathe, Jesus, take a deep breath," Huntress said, and Harley just puffed out her chest, a proud, exaggerated inhale. "See? I am breathing! Gotta stay peppy for the apocalypse, right?"

Then came the good stuff. Huntress confirming the dead-centre weakness. Harley's eyes snapped wide, a genuine, terrifying spark of brilliance igniting behind them. "Aha! Ooh, a bullseye! I like it! Every bad boy's got a soft spot, right? So, imploding when you impale 'em through the centre?" Her mind was already racing, connecting dots faster than a caffeinated pigeon. "We don't need to level a block if we can just tickle their insides just right."

She listened as Huntress talked about not frying Gotham, about collateral damage, about ordinary people, and then... her.

The name wasn't said, but it was obvious. Ivy.

Harley's usual manic energy faltered, just for a split second. Her smile dimmed, her eyes losing their sparkle as she actually thought about it. Ivy. And nature. And explosions. She ran a gloved finger along the seam of her mallet, her gaze distant for a moment. Right. Ivy cared about the planet. About green things. Blowing up half of Gotham wouldn't exactly earn her any gold stars from her plant-loving love.

Then, the flicker came back, stronger. A new kind of mischief, tempered with a rare, cunning edge. "Oh, that conversation," Harley purred, meeting Huntress's gaze, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Yeah, she's not too keen on the 'collateral damage' when it involves, like, trees. Or, y'know, the ground. But don't you worry your little crime-fighting heart. I can be eco-friendly with my boom-booms. Ivy taught me a thing or two about... precision. Sometimes a surgical strike is way more satisfying than a messy explosion, 'specially when you're tryin' to impress your girl."

Harley took a step back, her gaze drifting over the writhing metal below. Her brain, a chaotic pinball machine of ideas, started bouncing balls around a new, more thrilling concept.

"Okay, okay, I'm scrap-heaping my 'electric smoothie' idea," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "That's for amateurs. If they all have a weak spot, a little 'sweet spot' in the centre, we don't just blow 'em up. We make 'em pop! So we just need to figure out how to do it big."

Harley leaned in, "I got these babies," she said, patting her hammer-space. "They're not just for a lightshow. Confetti grenades. Not the usual kind of boom, you see. These little darlings are designed to burrow in before they pop. They find the softest spot and go off right where they'll do the most damage."

She grinned at Huntress, her eyes wide with manic glee. "So, instead of trying to hit their dead-centre with a stick, what if we just... fed it to 'em? We get their attention. Make 'em all crowd around a big, juicy target. Something they want so bad, they get sloppy. And then... we give 'em a little kiss of kaboom right down the hatch. A whole bundle of 'em. And because they're designed to find that sweet spot, they'll all go off at the same time, right where it counts! One big, beautiful, synchronized 'POP!' of metal confetti."

"And the best part? No big collateral damage. A clean, contained explosion, right in their guts. It's practically a science project! So, no angry girlfriend conversation about 'eco-unfriendly explosions.' Just a beautiful, contained, little death rattle for a whole army of angry scrap heaps. We both get the big booms we want, I get to watch 'em all sing a happy little swan song, and we're home in time for... well, whatever a normal person does on a weeknight."

Harley straightened up, a serious look on her face for a brief second before the grin returned. "So, you can aim. I can build the bomb-y bits. Sounds like a match made in... well, somewhere between heaven and a dumpster fire. What do you say, Huntress? Where can we find something big and shiny enough to get their attention?"

[quinnsanity]

my sleep has been ruined since the weekend but today, with the help of the largest coffee i can get my hands on, i will consider it a win if i get at least two things posted in-character.

[quinnsanity]

starter call (accepting) || @neovex

♦ ♠ ♥ ♣ Harley was already halfway through kicking the vending machine when she decided she liked the place. It wasn’t much to look at - low ceiling, flickering fluorescents, paint peeling in spots - but there was something about it that felt promising. Like the kind of spot where you could find a decent poker game. She gave the machine one last thump with the heel of her hand, and a packet of peanut butter crackers clattered down into the tray. Victory !!

She ripped the wrapper open with her teeth and wandered further inside. The building had been a twenty-four-hour laundromat once, back before Gotham’s night life took a turn for the apocalyptic. Rows of dented washers and dryers lined the walls, half of them with their doors hanging open, hinges bending from the weight. Somebody had dragged a few folding tables together in the centre of the room to make a long, uneven counter. Empty mugs and a stale coffee smell suggested it’d been a meeting spot at some point.

Harley hopped up onto the counter, swinging her legs as she chewed, humming quietly to herself. She’d come looking for a guy who owed her money. Word was, he’d been hanging 'round here, doing 'business'. Which could mean anything from selling knock-off perfume to cooking something you didn’t put in a frying pan. Either way, she figured it was worth a look.

She tapped the edge of the counter with her boot heel, listening to the hollow thud. The place was quiet. Then, her eyes flicked to the back door, where a bead curtain swayed like it’d just been disturbed.

“Hellooo?” she called out, voice carrying through the hum of the old fluorescent tubes. “Don’t be shy, I’m real friendly when I wanna be.”

No answer.

She slid down from the counter, cracker crumbs scattering across the floor, and moved toward the back. Her bat hung at her side. The bead curtain parted with a lazy rattle under her hand.

The back room was smaller, warmer, and smelled of something sharp and chemical. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with bottles, boxes, and a couple of things that probably violated at least three safety codes. A single desk lamp cast a pale circle of light over a damp ledger book, the handwriting inside looping and jagged. She looked upward, noting a small, slow drip from the ceiling above. Maybe no one had used this place in a while.

Harley leaned over the desk, letting her eyes skim the pages without touching them. Numbers. Dates. Some names she recognised, some she didn’t. And then a page torn clean out, leaving only a jagged edge behind.

She straightened, chewing on the inside of her cheek. It wasn't any explicit sign of the guy she was looking for, any small-time crook could have set up shop here. Either way, maybe she'd have to set up a meetin’ the landlord.

[quinnsanity]

Whooo I'm back after my long-but-extremely-fun weekend! I'll start trying to catch up on asks, replies, starters I owe. I don't think it's too much but I feel bad leaving people hanging so thank you for your patience!

My usual goal is two posts per weekday/every other weekday at min but it might take me a bit to get going. I took Thurs/Fri off work so I am coming back to a bunch of things to catch up on.

[quinnsanity]

As mentioned previously, busy weekend ahead but I will get to things as I can!

[dchuntress]

MINI-EVENT ANNOUNCEMENT:

WOMEN OF COMICS: “THROUGH YOUR LENS”!

do you love female characters and an ENDLESS stream of thoughts about them? do you find yourself delving deep into their minds or the themes of their stories or their character development, only for it to go unnoticed? you are not alone, and you no longer have to shout into the void alone.

I STARTED THIS COMMUNITY to help curate a productive and focused space for appreciating female characters without unwanted derailment. it's still young and new, so, i was hoping to inspire a wider variety of meta and discussions because i want to engage with the way you engage with your favourite heroines.

if that sounds like your deal, PLEASE READ FURTHER AND BOOST THIS POST BY REBLOGGING IT!

EVENT: you can participate by sharing a meta discussion or post about any female character(s) of your choice, using any of the prompts below, curated by yours truly. this is meant to lean towards analysis of canon material rather than writing fanfiction.

PROMPTS:

I. “CHARACTER STUDY.” choose any character(s) of your choice and give your take on their characterisation. think of them as layers: the outer surface — their demeanour and first impression, then their motivations — intrinsic and extrinsic, their strengths and weaknesses, their personality, their behaviours in social interactions, their quirks, their fears, their psychology, their development and arcs, and so on. you can opt for a generalised overview or dive into a specific aspect of their characterisation. you can analyse them from any type of angle. II. “VERSUS.” pick two women who have been pitted against each other for any type of conflict, and think about it. was that rivalry organic and inevitable or editorially forced and unexpected? was it beneficial or meaning for their character development? could it have been handled differently? was it interesting or tired? do you consider it reflective of our society? do you think this type of stories have any impact on the way we discuss relationships between women? does the bechdel test come to mind? III. “MISCHARACTERISATION.” take any story, plot, comic, etc. of your choice and make your case for why this specific portrayal of the character does a disservice to them and is out of character. then tell me the implications and impact; did this mischaracterisation stem from ignorance or stereotypes? how much did this instance damage the public perception and understanding of the character? IV. “A RETCON YOU ACTUALLY LIKED.” not all dramatic changes are bad all the time, and reboots aren't always terrible beyond belief. sometimes, they can work! i'd love to hear if there's an example you're fond of that was beneficial to your favourite character. V. “BY DESIGN.” aesthetics aren't always surface-level, sometimes they can be reflective of who we are on the inside or carry significance that is cultural, psychological, or sentimental at times. for this prompt, i'd like for you to analyse the sartorial choices made in the design of your female character: why do they look the way they do? why these costume choices? why this colour scheme? why that hair length? why those gloves and masks? are these retcons helpful? additionally, you can also use this prompt to defend a specific character design you like. VI. “DREAM TEAM-UP.” if you're anything like me, you have multiple favourites and you love playing dolls with them. so, use this prompt to propose a team-up, crossover, or collaboration of your choice! no limits on the number (minimum: two female characters), as long the focus is on the women of marvel and dc comics. you can analyse why these characters would work or wouldn't, draw parallels between them, think about what their dynamic would be like, propose a story idea, and so on. also, if these two did meet but you want them to meet again? i'll allow it. VII. “PHOENIX.” pick any character who's been killed off, retconned out of existence, or simply collecting dust in limbo — and make your case for why they should be brought back to the current times. when was the last time they were mentioned? do you know what plans the editorial did have for them? do you think they can fit in now? how would you reconcile their years of absence? what would you retcon from the past story, and what new changes would you make for their new ones? what would their new debut be like?

GUIDELINES.

do you need to be a member of the community to participate? it's appreciated, but it's not mandatory! this event is open to everybody.

is there a fixed time or deadline? honestly? no. i understand people can be busy and whatnot, and frankly, co-ordinating a timed event can be a hassle. these prompts are forever and always available for use.

word count? as much or as little as you'd like. a minimum of one paragraph would be appreciated.

the questions in the prompts' description are not meant to be taken literally. they're only elaborate, the words in the quotation marks are the prompts. you can use my questions as a framework or just ignore them outright and interpret the prompt however you'd like it to be.

the focus should be on female characters. marvel and dc only. comics only.

i won't say you can't write your meta without sources, but it's strongly recommend to the cite the comics you're discussing; your citations should include comic name, year, and writer. a wiki link would be appreciated so that people don't get confused which comic you're dissecting. you can also cite other secondary sources.

these prompts aren't for storytelling, but moreso for articles or essays, as well as think-pieces and ideas for potential stories. these do not have to be unbiased or professional or following some fancy formatting or whatever, images and aesthetics not needed as long as your stuff is comprehensible. again, you can structure your meta that way.

you can be biased and whatnot, but the main thing i'm looking for is passion and enthusiasm for what you like. critiques are welcome, but in that case, i'd also recommend adding in solutions or constructive feedback too.

no ai. no plagiarism. no unpleasant arguments or disrespect or insulting.

tag appropriately and correctly!

no deliberate misinformation. no bigotry, propaganda, harmful rhetoric, and so on.

you can submit as many times as you'd like for as many of the prompts for as many female characters.

SUBMISSION GUIDELINE: tag your posts with #throughyourlens, @ me, and message/inbox me a link to your post, and i'll reblog your meta to the women of comics community. additionally, you are welcome to reblog your post directly to the community.

any other questions? reach out to me!

LOVE, sans. 🩵

[quinnsanity]

@s4m3c01n

She could still smell the champagne. Even with the air gone stale and the heating cut halfway through the building, that thin, fizzy scent of money and something rotten still clung to the velvet ropes and polished tile. The museum had only just reopened this wing - technically still under renovation, but that hadn’t stopped Gotham’s upper crust from throwing themselves a little pre-exhibit mixer here last week; the kind with passed hors d'oeuvres, too much alcohol, soft jazz, and nobody asking too many questions about the ethics of displaying crime scene relics under museum glass.

'Objects of Infamy,' the press release had called it. Subtle. Gotham’s rich loved that stuff: reminders that they lived right on the edge of something dangerous, but at a safe distance. Crime as conversation piece, trauma with hors d'oeuvres.

Harley hadn’t scored an invite, duh. She’d gotten wind of it through a guy who knew a guy who ran cleanup for a guy who’d spilled a glass of wine on Two-Face’s old coin. Swore he’d seen the thing, laid out all fancy for viewing.

She didn’t care about the coin. She didn’t even care about the busted umbrella from Cobblepot’s heyday or the original blueprints for the Iceberg Lounge someone had inexplicably loaned out of a private collection. That was all fluff. But someone had said there was a case in the back - locked, unlabeled, kept off the press sheet - and that was the kind of thing that got Harley’s attention.

She stepped carefully over a coil of lighting cable left behind by some bored AV tech, the thud of her boots muted by an expensive rug half-rolled across the floor. The display cases were still lit, low and gold like mood lighting, glass gleamed, polished recently.

She slowed at one of the final displays. Inside: a cracked domino mask, darkened with age. A broken lapel flower. A few torn playing cards, preserved between archival sheets like they were ancient manuscripts. Not the real relics, probably, fakes for staging while the genuine ones got special handling in the back. But they still made her stomach turn in that slow, sour way, like she’d eaten something sweet and remembered too late that it had gone off.

She didn’t touch the glass. Just stared at it, expression flat, jaw tight. No smirk, no wisecrack, just the same stillness she'd learned to use when people still brought him up like it was a joke or a phase or something she was gonna relapse into if she stayed up too late.

She wasn't here for this. She was here for something else. Something tucked further in - a black case, thin and long, with fraying travel tags still wired to the handle. One of the interns had joked it looked like a magician’s wand or a pool cue. But Harley knew exactly what it was the second she saw the description buried in the shipment manifest. The cane.

Not just any cane - the cane. Gold-plated at the top, hairline fracture near the base where it sparked too hot during that first heist together at the theatre. The stun charge had never worked right after that, but they'd kept using it anyway, partly for the voltage, mostly for the drama. And back then, she’d thought helping him build it meant something.

She wasn’t sure what she’d do with it. Smash it? Keep it? Toss it somewhere after confirming it was real? She hadn’t decided yet. She just knew she didn’t want it behind glass, grinned at by some bozo in a bow tie with too much booze in his system, talkin’ about 'the golden age of Gotham’s criminal elite.'

[quinnsanity]

cont. || @purrfatale

♦ ♠ ♥ ♣ Harley snapped her gum as she turned on her heel, arms flinging wide like she was presenting the eighth wonder of the world, or maybe just a very expensive mess. The fountain burbled behind her like it was trying to cough up one last gasp of dignity, but that ship had sailed - probably on a river of magenta.

"A callin’ card’s boring," she said with a shrug that sent droplets of orange flying from her brush. "Any two-bit nobody with a business card and a fragile ego can leave their initials behind. I like to leave a legacy."

She twirled, then tiptoed across the splash zone, narrowly avoiding a puddle of neon that was trying its best to become permanent. The brush was now a wand, waved toward the cherub as if she were granting it the gift of personality. "Chemical peels are in this season, don’tcha know?" she quipped, glancing toward the dark where the cat had tucked herself away, just outta reach like always. "Besides, all that blank baby-stare and no flair? I did the little guy a favour."

Harley narrowed her eyes, grinning as she reached into the paint bucket beside her and fished out a fistful of glitter. With a practiced flick, she tossed it toward the air above the fountain, where it caught the sickly streetlamp light and sparkled downward. “Tadaaaa~!” she sang, jazz-hands and all, before dropping into a theatrical bow that smudged bright red across one cheek.

"You got an eye for detail, kittycat," she said, half to the wing, half to the shadows that had spoken. "But I ain't much for perfection. Don’t need to colour inside the lines, ya feel me?" She scooped up her brush again and slapped a blotch of violet onto the cherub’s wing anyway - not where Catwoman had pointed, just beside it, because Harley Quinn did not take notes. She made ‘em up as she went.

And as the fountain let out a fresh, gurgling belch of paint-slick water, Harley laughed. Loud, unladylike, and fully entertained by her own mess. She dipped her brush back into the nearest bucket - this one a dizzying bright pink - and gave it a quick, cheeky flick in the cat’s general direction, sending droplets of paint flying toward Catwoman. “OOPS !!” she said, sing-song sweet, batting her lashes innocently.

[quinnsanity]

I know I owe a couple starters and maybe a reply but I did not sleep well and on top of a busy work day and appointment tonight methinks I will not get to anything today. I sat down and tried to write at least one post a few times today but I just can't lol. so sorry! I will hopefully be full-throttle tomorrow and get at least two out, because I have an event with friends this weekend and likely will be pretty busy fri-sun.

if i'm still alive after my appointment tho i'm hoping to get some ramen and a bevvie. rip.

[crownmemes]

Criminal Sentences, Vol. 26

(Sentences from various sources for criminals and/or dangerous muses. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"A rational society would either kill me or put me to some use."

"You don't get the tell me who to kill."

"I've never felt as alive as I did when I was killing him."

"Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in."

"Did you really think I was above that sort of thing?"

"Tell me about it and don't lie, or I'll know."

"They think you did it. They think you killed him. They're looking for anything to pin this on you, and they're finding it."

"Don't think I won't shoot you if you pull that kind of shit again!"

"This job is very important to me, you understand? So don't fuck it up. For your own sake."

"Can you provide any assurance that you'll follow through on this extravagant promise?"

"I think we should kill someone tonight."

"You pulled a gun on me!"

"You can't see the line until you've passed it, but once you're over it, you can't go back without fear of getting caught. Next thing you know, you can't see the line even if you wanted to."

"Is homicidal not your type?"

"People have died for me before, and by my own hand as well."

"If you keep holding out on me like this, I'm going to have to get really nasty."

"We're not that different, you and I."

"Watch your eyes. People get killed over a wrong look around here."

"Why don't you kill him? You could always say that it was me."

"Do you know why you failed to murder him? You failed to murder him because you still love him."

"You used to get people to do your killing for you. How does it feel to finally get your hands dirty?"

"Despite all evidence to the contrary, I am a gentleman."

"Fear is not what you owe me. You owe me awe."

"You are nothing without me."

"It's a shame. You came all this way and you didn't get to kill anybody."

"Now that you're so respectable, I think you're more dangerous than you ever were."

"I have a problem, and I want to find out if it is my problem or your problem."

"I can undo what I said. I can also make it a lot worse."

"Is this a bribe?"

"You're mistaking this for a conversation. When I ask for information, you give it."

"You know, it's truly amazing how any organs the body can offer up before it really begins to suffer."

"Are you beginning to appreciate my lack of sympathy?"

"I am not the intelligent psychopath you are looking for."

"I hope you're not coming for your pound of flesh because I'm not sure I've got that much to spare."

"You can call me whatever you like. My real name is buried."

"A low heart rate is a true indicator of one's capacity for violence."

"Given the chance, you would deny me my life, wouldn't you?"

[quinnsanity]

cont. || @fa1lmech

♦ ♠ ♥ ♣ Harley puffed out a sigh that might’ve rattled the windows if it had any more drama packed in it. She slumped back into her couch, the springs giving a tired sproing! under her weight, one leg swinging over the armrest. Her hand still clutched the phone tight against her cheek, the cord of her landline twisting into little anxious nooses around her fingers. On the floor, Bud let out a long, mournful grunt that sounded like the end of the world wrapped in a whimper. Lou didn’t even lift his head.

“Oh, puh-lease, like I’m some kinda animal hoarder. It’s just me, the boys, and a couple’a pigeons who keep showin’ up on the fire escape ‘cause I mighta left out half a bagel that one time. And that one bat in the kitchen vent that I’ve been pretendin’ ain’t there.”

The question about toys earned a derisive snort. “Toys? TOYS? Mister, they got everything. I got 'em chew ropes the size of street signs, a kiddie pool full'a squeaky duckies, and even one'a them fancy, overpriced enrichment things from that boutique pet shop near Crime Alley - y;know, the one with the ferrets in lil’ suits? Bud just drooled on it and went back to sulkin’. Lou tried to bury it under the couch. I don’t think it’s a boredom thing. I think it’s a spook thing.”

Then she leaned forward, real serious-like, lowering her voice.

“Y’know, now that I’m thinkin’ about it... the night they started gettin’ all twitchy, there was this real weird buzzin’ noise. Not like a fridge buzz, this was more like a giant mosquito was tryin’ to break into the building. Lights flickered, TV cut out, and my lava lamp went all poltergeist for a minute. I thought it was just Gotham bein’ Gotham, but maybe it scrambled their fuzzy little brains or somethin’? Maybe somethin’s messin’ with the power grid? You ever seen a hyena try to process static? It’s tragic.”

She glanced toward the living room again, eyeing her boys with a furrow in her brow. “Ever since then, it’s like they’re... watchin’ somethin’. Or waitin’ for somethin’. Bud’s hackles go up every time I so much as touch a light switch. Lou’s been sleepin’ under the couch. That’s not a thing he does unless somethin’s seriously freakin’ him out. Like Fourth-of-July-fireworks-freakin’-him-out. And if you tell me it’s 'just a phase,' I swear I’m gonna mail you a flaming box of disappointment.”

She leaned back again, biting at a nail thoughtfully. “So. Still thinkin’ this is a job for your sunshine-touchy-healer? Or you got someone who specialises in, like... electrical hauntings? Or hyena exorcisms? I’m flexible. 'Cause if you send me some bright-eyed cape in tights with a thermometer, they’re just gonna end up with teethmarks in their butt and a whole lotta regret.”

She paused. “Unless they bring snacks. That might help. Hyenas love jerky.”