#〚♢ 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚒'𝚖 𝚓𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐? ♢ 〛promo.

[clownofspades]

OF JACKS & KINGS & QUEENS This can't be like all those other times. This story needs to change ━━ IT NEEDS AN ENDING.  [ something is very wrong ]

   ━━ #CLOWNOFSPADES ; an independent, private & selective 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐧. mutuals only. crossover friendly. [ diagnosed by q ] [ 30+ she/her ] EST [ promo credit ]  

[clownofspades]

@gothamsaved requested a starter ♡

Like a snake eating its own tail; Harleen was here again. It baffled her that paths could be so circular, how every road led her back to this one. Perhaps it was bad luck but then, Harleen knew luck didn't exist. Not for people like her. If she believed in things like fate or destiny, she might have thought that this was hers: rooftops and shadows, lies and bats.

Though the stage changed: rooftops, piers, warehouses, the lines remained the same. So too, did the players. She, The Fool and him, Justice. The evening's stage was the scaffolding under the neon sign of Ferry's Canning Co. on the edge of Gotham Bay, the light splashing her in scarlet and shadow. It might have been beautiful if she wasn't fending off exhaustion with trembling fingers. Sleep had not been a companion last night or any that had come before and she feels the weight of it all at once.

She can barely see him in the darkness but she knows that he's there somewhere and that she should be afraid. But fear was not a gift she could give another. That was an offering she laid at the altar of another and he had bled her dry. So, Harleen faces every shadow head on, shrinking from nothing because true terror grins.

❝I already told you-❞ she begins, calling out on the wind as baby blue eyes scan her surroundings, seeking any sign of movement. The lines are always the same, falling from her lips like she'd rehearsed them. She knows her next moves, the dance is always the same. Her fingers brush the handle of the steel sledgehammer at her back although she doesn't wield it , not yet. That was not how the dance was done. Harleen didn't want to fight, well, not really. She was tired and aching for the bitter taste of coffee and just not in the mood for another night like this, another performance. But she had never gone gently into anything and it was a bit too late for her to start now.

❝-that I don't know anything about it. What's a girl got to do to earn some trust around here, Batsy?❞ She leans into levity because that's what the script demands and because its easier than admitting that her jokes had run dry, that she was tired of rooftops and that she couldn't sleep most nights and the city's disgusting underbelly called to her back to it time and time again no matter what she wanted. ❝Because it's really starting to feel personal at this point. And that's pretty rude considering I'm the one who got out. Sane and all.❞ She says and pretends not to feel as though she is choking on her own tail.

[clownofspades]

@birdofpower requested a starter ♡

❝So, what is it Penguin?❞ Harleen asks, hands falling to her hips as she looks down to meet his gaze.

Oswald Cobblepot was not the person Harleen wanted to entangle herself with. Rumors among the streets of Gotham ran like wildfire, particularly in the Underground circles. He was dangerous, and while she respects that, it doesn't mean she wants any part of his attention, business or otherwise.

But Harleen has a bad habit of chasing after the rush of destruction, delighting in the chaos she brought the city and herself. So, though she was sure it was a bad idea, she was here, meeting The Penguin in person for the first time.

❝Or are you just suddenly dying to be my friend?❞ She continues, flashing him a wicked grin.

[clownofspades]

@halfdent requested a starter ♡

Harleen hates this part of town.

Necessity makes fools of us all, she thinks, as bitter as the biting winds cutting through the street. As familiar as a limb, she moves through the back alleys, careful not to be seen. If she had it her way – and one day she would – she would never set foot in this part of the city again. But desperation had driven her to the edge; only she didn’t want to jump this time. She almost had everything. It wasn’t fair.

The Clown couldn’t keep winning; the hammer could not always come down against the nail, yet here she was. The only home she’d managed to create for herself, separate from him, was destroyed; her beloved hyenas and the threadbare sense of security she’d clung to the casualties. Unspoken was the agreement between them; she remained out of his orbit, stopped trying to kill him, and in exchange, he left her alone.

You should have known better, the sensible, teetering-on sane part of her whispers in the back of her mind, throbbing like a headache. When has he ever cared about honoring rules and respecting boundaries? ❝You're right,❞She grumbles to herself. ❝But there's no need to be a bitch about it.❞

Harleen could spend all night unspooling the tangled web of mistakes she’d made where The Joker was involved; instead, she planned on doing something about it. She wasn’t running; she was regrouping. The first and most crucial step meant friends; she was fresh out of those, so allies would have to do the trick for now. 

Coming up on the back entrance to the run-down dive bar she’d chosen as a meeting place, she quickly unlocks and opens the door, slipping inside. She saw that walking through the front door of any place was a quick way to find yourself in the middle of an ambush, so she made a habit of never doing so. No one says anything as she cuts through the kitchen, though she can feel a dozen confused glances tossed her way. The employees give her a wide berth and a healthy dose of invisibility as she struts out of the kitchen and out to the main floor of the bar. Harleen drinks it all in, gulping down the attention greedily. She was the Harley Quinn—Gotham’s Diamond four times over, as evidenced by the tattoo symbol on her left wrist. The Clown would never be able to take that from her, no matter how hard he tried, though she was prepared to take quite a bit from him. All she needed was a little help.

Harleen knew nothing of Two-Face outside of street talk rumors and speculations, and that was enough to pique her curiosity and send them a message. The world painted them as someone unglued, a door that had never seen a hinge: perfection. She did not expect much when she had made her way here, having no clue if they would even bother responding to a stranger, so when she lays eyes on them in the low light of the bar, silhouetted by the grey cigarette smoke of some asshole smoking, she grins. Surprises are rare and her favorite delicacy. She grants them a silent point on the mental tally she had only just decided to keep and makes her way over to them.

❝Color me surprised,❞ She says. ❝I wasn’t sure you’d be here. Harley, here. So which of you showed up?❞ Harleen asks, taking in the man with a face half like a fractured mirror.

[clownofspades]

tag dump, 𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒆.

〚♢ 𝚒 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚓𝚘𝚔𝚎... ♢ 〛main .

〚♢ 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜. ♢ 〛IC.

     〚♢…𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚓𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚎. ♢ 〛  ooc.

〚♢ 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚑-𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗.♢ 〛prompts.

〚♢ 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚎.♢ 〛aesthetic.  

   〚♢ 𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊! 𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕. ♢ 〛 answered.

     〚♢ 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗. ♢ 〛inbox.

〚♢ 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗.♢ 〛visage.

〚♢ 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚒'𝚖 𝚓𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐? ♢ 〛promo.    

〚♢ 𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚞𝚗. ♢ 〛friend promo.

 〚♢ 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚎𝚗: 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚜.♢ 〛nsfw.

     〚♢𝚒 𝚐𝚘 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚐𝚞𝚗!  ♢ 〛edits.

〚♢ 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚜 & 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜.♢ 〛  headcannons.

〚♢ 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢.♢ 〛 playlist.   

〚♢ 𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚐.♢ 〛        musings.   

〚♢𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚏 𝚓𝚊𝚌𝚔 & 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚏 𝚓𝚒𝚕𝚕.♢ 〛        faceclaim.