damaged goods and delights[joker]

[Harleen 'Harley Quinn' Quinzel]

H A R L E Y Q U I N N !

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Harley sat in the semi-dark room, a few lights were upon the ceiling though most either had bullet holes or flickered nonstop. She sat upon the stool as she gazed into her own reflection, a brush combing her long blonde locks. She was in a blissful state tonight, not too much had gone on during the day that would send her mood into a deadly one. She had resorted to staying inside the hide out, she played with Bud and Lou, watched some television, and ate a bit of ice cream. The Joker had become sparse these past weeks ever since he found the crystal. She didn't like it and he knew full well her feelings in the matter. She was insane though she still had logic. A crystal that fell into his lap in Arkham Asylum of all places did not shout rainbows and puppies.

And so his attention went to that damn thing while Harley kept herself preoccupied. She had already assembled Harley Bombs which contained more gunpowder than anything. They were deadly and meant to destroy their target. She had a new collection of mallets that ranged from metal to wood with various colors of red and black along with the shapes. There were other things in which she kept herself busy with though they were in the early stages of production and thus nothing to brag about.

Harley sat the black brush down upon her vanity. It had been littered with black and red marker though when the area came to her face it was clear, a girl had to see her face when she applied make-up. Her tiny fingers came up and started to braid her long strands in a loose braid, pigtails as usual. Her eyes cut to the door as she heard the slamming of the entrance door which signaled her love was home. She felt a shiver of excitement run down her spine as her lips moved to form a smile. Harley picked up the black greasepaint and lined her eyes with it as she placed the domino mask upon her face, the spirit gum applicator made sure the mask went no where unless she was willing for it to move. She picked up the red and moved it against the skin of her lips then went on to extend her smile upon her cheeks, just like his.

Harley's arms stretched over her head as she stood but was soon backhand springing instead of walking. She loved it rather than doing as the rest did. She had been a trained gymnast after all. This was like walking to the woman. She stopped in front of the closet and tossed off the red teddy and pulled the red and black tights out as well as a red corset, she had been reinventing herself when she felt the will. Though her favorite and always will be is the black and red latex that clung to her body like a second skin. She had grown and matured in ways during her years with the Joker. She had become a beautiful, insane, woman who played to her womanly side when ever needed be. Though with the time spent with the Joker, her mind had drifted even further into madness. She was his doll, his play thing, in the way that he tormented and tortured. It didn't help she subsequently fell for him during her time in Arkham as an employee and he the patient.

Her fingers smoothed out the latex of her tights as the stomping, or was that skipping, came closer to the shut door which kept Harley inside. Her hands went out and grabbed the corset and had it around her body as the door creaked open. She turned her head to see him, she had a large red smile on her face, the blonde strands that remained untucked fell in her face. She turned to him with her hands keeping the corset covering her front, her hands upon her waist.

"Can you help me, Mistah J?" She questioned as she turned around so that her scar littered back was what faced him. She turned her head slightly to look at him, tiers parted and eyes a little wide. "How was your day?

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Outfit:wearing
Listening to: Electrohead - Combichrist

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Notes:I couldn't resist.
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[Jack "The Joker" Napier]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, background: url(http://i1095.photobucket.com/albums/i473/shahal_sparda/Rp/JOEKERR.png) center bottom no-repeat; outline: 0px solid #000000; width: 500px; height: 550px; padding: 0px;, bTable] [style=padding: 0px 10px;]His mood wasn't sour, but it wasn't particularly grand either, it was in a state of nothing at all at the moment really. Which was particularly dangerous, because from there the littlest thing could set him off either way. Chances were more likely for things to go violently bad when he was in moods like that, granted even when they went well, it was still particularly violent. What could he say? Blood was pretty when it left streaks on skin, and oh how he did pride himself on being an artist. The thought made his hand twitch, a sudden want to let the crimson flow just because he could, and that really was always the reason, just because he could. It was why he slammed the doors open when he walked in, why he always slammed the doors open when he walked in, because he could, because he delighted in being obnoxious. Unfortunately, it always had the effect of getting those damned hyenas to start cackling, and once they started it was utter hell to get them to stop, and it didn't help that they tried to eat him most of the time he went near them. And just like predicted, he could hear the annoying chatter of the goddamn fleabags in another room, "WILL SOMEONE SHUT THEM UP?!" J seemed to have a particular distaste for things that managed to laugh more obnoxiously then him, he always did have to be the center of attention. And now there was a general frown tugging on his painted face, not quite right, but even more ghastly because of it. He hated those goddamn hyenas. In fact, he hated nature in general. And he hated this hide out because it wasn't really a hide out anymore, so many people had been breaking in lately for this reason or that. Word had spread about his newest toy and everyone seemed to want to get their hands on it. The frown deepened, looked like his mood had decided to start shifting towards the side that because particularly violent. The clown was just about stomping towards his room now, not taking his eyes off the path before him even as he pulled the old revolver from inside his coat and aimed at one of the hulking lackeys that he passed. He pulled the trigger, a little flag with the word bang popped out, the man laughed uneasily, another pull on the trigger and poor poor Bob or whatever the hell his name was had that same little flag sticking out of his eye as the mass of dead flesh dropped to the ground with a sickening thud. Well, looked like his newest tinkered toy worked at least. He tossed the door to the room open with an equally obnoxious bang, only to be greeted by his very own darling harlequin. Joker had to wonder just what the hell she had been doing lately that everyone was getting into their hideout like it was a goddamn vacation resort. His hand twitched, the urge to stab her was giving him a tick. Instead the clown narrowed those vacant eyes of his on the woman and tugged the corset laces closed carelessly tight, glaring back at her in a way that dared her to protest, "I've been........productive," He punctuated the word, stressed it with something like a hiss, Joker still wasn't sure Harley wasn't more then just pretty dead weight on him at the moment, "Tell me, pumpkin, just ahhh.....what have you been doing lately that people KEEP GETTING IN HERE?!" His voice went from sickeningly sweet to a roar in an instant, grabbing her hair and yanking her head back in a particularly violent fashion so they could see eye to eye, "Hmmmm?" There it was, that sick sweet tone again, tilting his head to offer an ear as if to here her explanation better. Regardless he let go, all of two second before the proverbial storm had passed, or at least he seemed calm enough to lull someone into a false sense of security. He wanted blood, looking at himself in the mirror of her vanity, Joker pushed the stringy, badly dyed green hair from his face, tongue flicking out in that odd little tick of his, "Let's goooo do something......productive Harleykins," He wanted pain. He wanted to hurt things. Without much thought the Clown Prince turned on his heels and with a swish of purple coat tails was out of the room, stepping over poor poor dead Bob and off to a van, motioning a few lackeys with him. Maybe a good old fashioned bank robbery would do the trick. [style=padding: 0px 10px; font-size: smaller;] Tag: Harley~ Words: 792 Music: Just the sound of my own madness seeping in 8D Notes:OHGODTHATTOOKFOREVERIMSORRY [/style][/style]