Daily Harley Quinn #4
Batman: Arkham Knight (Classic DLC outfit)
DLC Released: June, 2015
Credit: Pinterest
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Daily Harley Quinn #3
Batman: Arkham City, Harley’s Revenge
DLC Released: May, 2012
Credit; Pinterest
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𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴 . . .
𝙳𝙴𝙲𝚁𝚈𝙿𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙼𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙰𝙶𝙴 » 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 @arkahmknight
in which jaybin is jumping up and down on barbara’s bed asking her what she’s getting him for christmas
❝ thermal underwear. ❞ a teasing smirk dances across cracked lips, gaze watching as the boy bounces up and down, up and down. the room, bathed in warm light as the shadow of snowflakes fall past the window, is filled with the sound of creaking bedsprings. the other jason in her life, the one whose sweet words hang a little too heavy in her mind and whose face smiles up at them from the famed photo beside the bed, has left the newly co-oped apartment in her care. so the siblings can speak as openly as they wish. a refreshing change from having to work so hard to hide the other part of herself. ❝ i can’t believe bruce has you swinging around gotham in shorts and pixie boots in the middle of winter. ❞
ever a women of mystery, a harbinger of secrets. barbara’s eyes don’t so much as flicker to the wardrobe, where a robin wrapped gift sits underneath a duffle bag containing black and yellow cloth. to look inside would be to find a new skateboard, with a matching helmet and safety pads. ever the dutiful older sister, forever indorsing that his safety is of the upmost importance.
❝ anyway, who says i’m even getting you anything? ❞ she’s teasing, still, as she pushes herself out of the vanity chair. an ill-timed jump causes the nightstand to shake, the photograph of herself and the other jason crashes to the floor. yet, barbara can’t find it within her to be mad. she bends down, nimble fingers collecting the shards of broken glass. ❝ maybe you’re on the naughty list. maybe all you’re getting this year is coal. ❞ a sharp end presses against her finger, drawing a drop of red that falls to the carpet. she presses her thumb to her lip, a metallic taste to her mouth as she catches the remanence of the drop. down the hall a timer dings, catching her attention. a gingerbread family - made up of bats, birds, and their butler - waiting to be iced. barbara places her hands on jason’s shoulders, stilling his movements. ❝ alright, short stuff, that’s our cue. ❞
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@arkahmknight : whatever he said left jason aghast, so much so he pulls a cigarette from his back pocket. his glare is conspicuous… and his desire to blow tobacco - filled smoke in his face is an act of trying to assert some sort of dominance over the situation.
figures dispersed underneath bright neon, late hour pushing each one in a different direction. towards home, or somewhere else to keep the night going steady. distant echo of chatter, boastful laughter bounced off of surrounding buildings, adding warmth to the evening chill. not quite as much as the wandering star, the one with his hands tucked casual in his pockets and with a mouth that tended to run much too far for his brain to catch up. jason’s expression hadn’t gone unnoticed, drawing johnny’s brows together with his own contemplation. then, witty banter had turned into a stirred pot within seconds.
“ hey, what’s that look for- ” began with with scuffed heels, his wandering coming to an abrupt halt. sapphires followed intentional movement, hand that dug out a packet of habit to pluck one out. his own emerged from it’s hiding spot, a snap of his fingers sending just enough fuel to cigarette’s tip. more of a show-off than intended to be helpful. “ all i said was i think there’s more to ya than you let on. ” roughly, he enjoyed sticking humor into the middle of contrasting personalities. the button presser. expression hardened the more he observed, the way jason took a drag and held his breath. gaze flickered to life, light consuming his irises in defense. “ do not. ”
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𝓐sk. ⠀ ⠀ ✶ ⠀ ⠀ … ⠀ ⠀ this is shit, isn’t it? ⠀ ⠀ @arkahmknight
𝙸𝙽𝚃. ⠀𝙰 𝙻𝙸𝚅𝙴𝙻𝚈 𝙱𝙰𝚁, ⠀𝙽𝙴𝚆 𝚈𝙾𝚁𝙺 𝙲𝙸𝚃𝚈.
misery loves company, ⠀and mary jane watson felt more miserable than ever. ⠀her preferred means of escape is in plain sight ⠀— ⠀a crowded scene, ⠀accompanied by dim lights ⠀& ⠀a loud bass from the speakers that you can feel reverberating through your entire body.
& ⠀when mj is running ⠀(and running ⠀… ⠀she can never seem to stop running) ⠀— ⠀she’d appreciate it if people didn’t constantly center the gloom and doom in every situation. ⠀she presides in a perpetual state of disquiet. ⠀she doesn’t need to be reminded.
“ ⠀the bar? ⠀” ⠀she asks, ⠀brow lifting up.
“ ⠀no way, ⠀tiger. ⠀this is far from tragedyville. ⠀” ⠀she crosses her arms, ⠀shifting her weight slightly. ⠀“ ⠀besides, ⠀your brooding in the corner is affecting the mood. ⠀”
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“ … ”So the dear boy did recognise her. She wondered if she continued to have the right to call the tall young man standing before her like so. Because if she did, she would want to. While Vân had anticipated this development towards her abrupt arrival at his mechanic shop, it didn’t dissipate the tightness in her throat. All that mental preparation, all those scripts that she had rehearsed over and over again while sitting inside the car. Still, the mind blanked. It was maybe a good thing that he told her not to speak. She wouldn’t know where to start detangling the words and emotions otherwise.
To ease the ripples of anxiety, her gaze travelled around the shop among the tense silence, taking in the chipped paint of the decades-old wall, the murky floor stained of motor oil and grease, the wrenches lying in an organised chaos on the many desks and chairs. The rubbery industrial scent was dizzying, but brought back memories of an old friend, who had once called her to talk of a child: another child - who, this time, daringly stole the Batmobile’s tyres, and attempted to take a swing of the bat itself when discovered. Such tidbit of information charmed her. She herself had wanted to hit the stubborn and distant man at times, really.
They had never had the chance to meet face to face (a regret she was sure she would carry for the remainder of time, though he did not need to know that now). But the boy had likely memorized her face, perhaps through digging up that old dusty yearbook of her and Bruce’s cohort at the manor (like how she had also been searching for traces of Jason since she moved to Gotham, finding what she had missed and never could get back). She assumed he would have found the tabloid’s collection of blurry pictures shown the pair standing together at law school’s events as well. Or, if not, he had a handful of those random polaroids that others had taken of her, which she had slid into the handwritten letters that she mailed to the once starry-eyed adolescence. That had been their little tradition, the woman chuckling with fondness at Jason’s excitement that seemed to pour out of every word he jot down on the paper, and her responding with her own stories, with a repeated apology about how she couldn’t visit them any time soon because New York [and her own mind] was too much of a mess to travel anywhere far. To relieve the child’s disappointment, she made sure to send regular gifts, whether it was books or stationery or toys, so he could know he was in her care always. She had hoped it was enough. She hoped it was enough. And that was, before this rare moment of tranquillity was too taken away from them.
Her appearance had not changed much throughout the decade, save for a few silver strands here and some short lines there, all of which she tried to ignore every morning when standing before the bathroom mirror. Something about people of her race or ethnicity didn’t age, others had commented lightheartedly. She would have even taken such remarks as a compliment, if she hadn’t noticed how time seemed to decide to leave her largely untouched, but did not spare the same courtesy to those she held dear. It was unfair, she often thought, how the burden was distributed. A child should have no ghost, yet this boy here had come to bear one of the heaviest there was. It wasn’t a haunting unfamiliar to her, and that only made it worse. Despite never having to carry it, she knew such weight by heart (or had she? her parents had tried to leave her untouched by that old war. nonetheless, here she was, running off to the other side of the world, ending up in Gotham, doing the very same thing they had done). She had lived with those carrying the same ghost in her childhood: those abandoned by the masses so they became revolutionaries, existing in and out of the orthodox boundaries of morals, plagued with anguish even after the long-awaited victories. She saw it in her parents’ wrinkled and cold eyes, in how their gazes had lingered a second too long when they walked pass the memorials, in their rare but grotesques humour, in the callouses where a gun had once been. It was something she wished to never witness again. And yet.
“ Are you closing? ” Her voice would gradually return, starting with an expressed gentleness that she should have given him many years ago. “ Because this girl right here,” her head gestured to her car while a finger knocked onto its black frame, the evident longevity of which showed through the various old and new small scratches. “ - is long overdue for an oil change, and I think her tyres are torn from running over nails. ” That was what she got for driving out alone onto an unlit road in the dark, she supposed, but she couldn’t delay the meeting anymore.Not like how she had before.
“ But if you are, ” soil eyes gazed at Jason’s, finally cutting through the distance and seeing him, “ I still promised you that meal. ” From years, many years ago.
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❝ Wow, you’re messy, damn. ❞ Mary Jane understood messy. At one point was the textbook definition of being havoc and mayhem. Causing problems and stirring drama among her peers was something that she lived for. It is what helped her gain attention in the media, keeping her name in the mouth of others while simultaneously diverting from her own life. [ Now she was over that. ] Call the 411! The new Mary Jane Watson was in town. ❝ In the heat of it, I always took your side. ❞ There was a sigh as she crosses her arms, tucking fallen red hair behind her ear. ❝ It’s a shame you’re out here trying to make the situation more messy. ❞
🎁 . #98 Tit for Tat by Tate McRae
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“ this is something dirty, isn’t it? please stop laughing and just tell me what a rizzler is, i don’t wanna be caught repeating it if it’s somethin’ bad! i — jason, seriously. what is it? ”
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𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴 . . . 𝚆𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂
𝙴𝙽𝙲𝚁𝚈𝙿𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙼𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙰𝙶𝙴 » 𝚃𝙾 @arkahmknight
barbara’s frost touched and rosy cheeked as she comes in from the cold. there’s something about gotham at winter that’s particularly biting. a cold that somehow settles into your bones. it’s the time of year that makes her miss the field work at lot less. at least, now that the clocktower has more insulation. there’s a wide smile on her face she barbara shrugs off her coat, a spark in her eye as it turns on jason. ❝ sorry i’m late, i had to make a pitstop. ❞ from the back of her chair she pulls her pack, filled with a multitude of goodies. snacks, drinks, and something special.
❝ i couldn’t not get this. ❞ from her bag she pulls out a cd - platinum christmas. newly released. not something she would normally go for, there’s enough christmas music on the radio already, but a certain song had caught her eye. she’s careful as she pops the cd out of the box, skipping through the songs on the speaker system until she finds the one she wants. ❝ behold - ❞ with the press of a button a familiar voice fills the room. last night i took a walk in the snow - ❝ britney released a christmas song! ❞
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͙ 𖥻﹚ … starring @arkahmknight .ᐟ : WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT ? ˊ-
glass crunched under his boots, the brittle sound of its crack, crack, cracking muffled by thick rubber and a stride that was casual in pace: slow, languid. the warehouse floor glittered with shards, scattered among the filth and refuse like stars in a murky brown sky, winking with the reflection of a dim bulb’s sickly yellow glow. it’s a flickering thing held aloft only by a frayed cord, gently swaying in the aftermath of a commotion already brushed aside to gather dust in the corners of his mind — valentin loved a grand entrance as much as anyone, but everybody wanted their big - ticket moment these days, their own stain on the blood - red carpet. when held up to the chaotic symphony of gotham’s night - life, a broken window was mere white noise, as ordinary as the bulb’s electrical buzzing. “ language. ” came admonishment with a tone carefully constructed in its evenness. the butcher dropped to a crouch, a knee planted on the scuzzy cement, aloof and absentminded as he reached for a comparatively large sliver. shining and sharp in that bile - colored light, with the teasing potential to slice as he ran a thumb over it’s jagged edge.
he was idle, half - interested, as if his uninvited guest’s presence did not come with the promise of violence already. the thought of a gun’s muzzle pressed up against the base of the skull was blurry, as inconsequential as the glass turned over between his fingers. at least the red hood had good taste in color. “ i believe i was quite clear, my dear boy. the curtain is drawn, the abattoir sleeps. you’re a bit early. ” though he does think, a little distantly, that a bullet missing its mark and finding its home embedded in torn muscle would be more trouble than it’s worth. ah well, whatever happens, happens. “ really, do you kiss your mother with that mouth ? ”
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Update - Arkham #bars #buryrivals #buryallrivalstyles #illustrator #illustration #arkahmasylum #arkahmknight #joker
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The Arkham Knight appears to have decreased in stature since last we met. #nycc #cosplay #arkahmknight #scarecrow #batman
