@sapphirelionheart​ 

It was a feeling she knew all too well. An event which was bound to come around every time she established a new connection. She’d performed this dance with several partners, often more than once. No matter how much they TOLD her that they CARED, she’d always end up ALONE on floor of her cell. Whether it be Arkham or Belle Reve, the jester would still be DISCARDED, either humming to herself and swinging from the bars of her cage ( DEAF to the warnings of the staff) or simply just staring off into space.

Today was one of the latter. 

She sits like a child, crouched with pale arms hugging her knees, bruised fingers lacing over the array of stick and poke tattoos she’d adorned herself with. Most of them were MISTAH J; created whenever she got a real bad case of the lonlies. Yet just above her left heel lay a small heart for Ivy, created during the time when they’d been separated by the NASTY guards and left her all by HERSELF. 

However, this time the clown had been let down by none other than Kara Danvers. An unusual culprit, seeing as the two had only briefly met when Kara had captured her and ivy after a bank heist. But recently the girl of steel had managed to convince the Belle Reve staff to allow her to analyse Harley. Over the weeks, the clown had started to slowly open up, sharing things she would NEVER care to spit to a gotham psycarist. Harley usually found the practise INSULTING, seeing as was a former psycarist herself. But she saw something in Kara. A glow she’d always sensed in female hero’s like her. 

- and now she had LEFT HER to go ROTTEN!! Because that’s EXACTLY what she was!! A ROTTEN little psycho ( her tattoo said so) who NO ONE WANTED, cast on the floor FOREVER screaming WHY WHY WHY - 

Deep down Harley knew it was bad to get so overly attached to people, but it was part of her! It was what she did best! She had given up her profession, every aspect of her being for the LOVE OF HER LIFE, and where had that got her?…..

TEARS welled in sky blue eyes as she reached for her biro and needle, tracing the skin of her right ankle.

Things were always going to be the same.