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Similar Deviations
Photo and editing by Cory McBurnett

I can't take any credit for how amazing this is. Thank you so much for this beautiful piece of art! <3

But hey, I'm a pretty model and fashion designer! Even if I didn't make *this* corset... (though I'm in the process of making a new one, out of leather, so stay tuned!)
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In her purple outfit, which you don't see to often.
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Gotta say this new outfit is better than the original.
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Batman Arkham City
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It only takes one joke.

One pause before the punch line. One dimpled, cherub smile. And all at once, the crowd peals with laughter at the performance she puts on for them in that cute, glittery number hugging her curves and the strappy red and black sling-backs.

Most of them are men leaning in towards her at the bar. Maroni’s thugs and a couple of fresh faces she hasn’t necessarily noticed before, all trying to laugh the loudest yet the least obnoxious to catch her attention. Then of course there’s Eddie who stands off to the side, smirking beneath the brim of that evergreen fedora he’s trademarked for wearing around the Iceberg (the first time he ever wore it, she told him how handsome he looked. Now she never sees him without it on).

Running her freshly polished fingertip around the rim of her cranberry cocktail (bitter but sweet, she’d said to the boys with that deliciously playful inflection of hers and a wink), she waits for the laughter to simmer before formulating her next strike.

Baby blues flash up about the bar. Her exterior breathes absolute poise while her insides seem to be quaking. He’d been scheming against the bat, and they’d gotten into an argument that, with one slap across her harlequin, white face, had her running out on him for. Normally, he would have pursued and given her the thrashing of a lifetime however he was too engrossed with his playmate it seemed. So he let her retreat to the Iceberg where she re-powdered her nose with greasepaint and fixed up her painted smile.

She knew how dangerous it was to start playing this game behind his back. In fact, it was border line suicide, to be honest. Which is why the room falls silent when that delightful, coquettish laugh of hers is rivaled by the chilling string of a-ha-ha-hee’s that resonate within the basement bar from the shadows.

She swallows past the lump that’s formed in her throat along with the rest of the bar patrons who part for Lucifer as he makes towards his prey.

“Well, well. What do we have here?” he says quietly as he clasps his bare hands together. She wonders idly where his gloves are and if he’s misplaced them (she’ll have to find him new ones, if that’s the case). “Dear Harley Quinn having a pleasant evening out on the townnnnn?

Steadying her hand, she delicately sips her drink before standing to face him. She witnesses the nerve twitch slightly below his left eye. Knows that can only mean trouble for her later.

“I think I need to go run to the little girls’ room, actually,” she says gently before turning to the remaining few men surrounding her (most only due to the fact that they were too close in proximity to the Joker that making any kind of move to leave could land them a speedy death), “’Scuse me boys.”

She manages to catch the glint in Eddie’s green eye, the kind that makes her weep inside for ever trying to seem even a little bit tough.

As she click-clacks towards the restrooms, she’s stunned that he never makes a move to stop her. She had ultimately avoided his stare when she hopped down off of the bar stool, but had not heard even a terrible snicker from her beloved clown prince thereafter.

As she stepped into the small, dim-light corridor, however, she lets out a cry as she was roughly tugged by the wrist and wrestled into the shadows.

“Did you think that was funny? Hm? Did you think making a fool of me would pay off?” he seethes as she struggles to free herself from his formidable strength. The bell nestled into the bud of the decorative, scarlet rose in her hair jingles over the muffled noise from the bar. “Lemme give you a piece of advice to wrap that tiny, insignificant brain of yours around. When that spotlight you’ve seemed to…to take a liking to burns out, and you’re left standing there in the dark, there’s only one person that really, really matters. And do you know who that is, pooh?”

She stills her thrashing as his face rests inches before hers; his hot, sickly breath scattering over her painted, porcelain skin.

“Why, the one who shows the performer off the stage.”

Harley is quiet just then, her chest rising and falling as his ragged breath shakes the air and he looks at her with knowing, black eyes.

She’d been a fool all along. He was the star of this Ringling circus of brooding, flying rats and sociopathic clowns, she just hadn’t realized it. Or perhaps maybe she had. Maybe it took one aspiring doctor to spiral down into lunacy for her to get it.

Maybe it only took one joke.

--

Hard times, bad breaks
my baby shoots her mouth off


I like that song.
Hope you enjoyed :)

commentss commentsss please leave commentsss. I'm stuck, what'd you guys wanna see next? something bittersweet? angry? do telllllllllllllllllllll
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Quick concepts to celebrate batman’s 75th anniversary. Happy birthday, Mr. Wayne
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He'd listen to her recount her trials with The Bat with a rapt intrest, still seeming giddy about the whole prospect of killing her. She still couldn't escape by any account, and he seemed content to remain upon his Harley Quinn Throne for the time being. Her words were drank by him, listening to her speak of her trust and adoration. All these things that were spoke seemed to pour directly from Harley's little heart, and he'd take note of this with a far away observation. Part of him had become scared of the blonde, scared of what she could do to him by just accepting him for his warped and twisted self. When he was called Melvin, he mouthed it back with abit of distain, not giving a yes or no to any of these claims. Simply be, he was and always had been Joker in his mind. It just depended on his mood for the day, and the sick bastard had known Harley loved a good sappy story. But in restrospective, he had this past laid out just for her. To him, it worked. It spun the cogs of the wheels that made him tick and work in conjunction with his squeeze. "Yes. I'm still going to kill you. Maybe." His thumb brushed against the chamber shoving it back home and he'd seem to give a off hand stroke of that silver object. And then it was shoved almost sexually into her mouth, that barrel pushing past her lips and allowing him a good view of what would be his beau's brains splattering all over that pillow. He writhed on his seat, ironically her, and purred down to Harley. "This is what's best for all of us. You. Me. Bats. Close your eyes kiddo. I'm gonna paint your pretty face.. one.. last.. time.." Click of that hammer, back against the gun and the sound of that chamber loading. Killing and Harley. It's what got Joker's rocks off. And now it was the best of both worlds for that psychopath.

It was frustrating to Harley, she'd never told one secret, never told anyone anything about the two of them together. The doctors, to Harley's knowledge wheren't even aware the pair had a relationship. Or that's how she'd paint it. Harley wasn't dumb, she knew what Shockholm Syndrome was, and she'd be a perfect text book case, because she acted like she had it. It was Harley's own little plea deal if she was mental ill, there'd be no prison time. Gun shoved past those bare pouting figures, she took the barrel almost as willingly as she had a part of Joker's anatomy. As he writhed she felt him and her body eased up, pushing into him. She was so addicted to him and that madness that even she was getting a small thrill off this. Those lips wrapped around the barrel of the gun, it'd look like something as she'd done to him before. Doing as she was told, those blue eyes, those beautiful baby blue eyes that sparkled and twinkled only for Joker. Eyes that showed that she could only love one person, only throw her life away for one person, and that person was him would shut. Seemingly for what would be the last time, still with the threat of death looming over her she'd obey her Master. This was right, this was what he had to do, prove a point to the Bat, and Harley couldn't see the downside to her life ending, not by his hands. Not for his own personal gain. She'd groan softly on that gun well he whispered to her, 'one. last. time.', her eyes opened for a second giving him one last look before closing them. The final stage of Grief, Acceptance.

White knuckled hand would tense, keeping that weapon drawn and securely in that mouth with other images briefly flaunting through his mind of similar circumstances. And then it dawned on him, a masterful revelation. And it just saved her life. Drawn gun escaped his mouth and he'd give a mournful bellow of shame. Oh, he couldn't do it. And he knew at once why that was. Snatching Harley up he'd hug that blonde into his stomach. Both arms going around that head softly and give a soft whimper. Again the pendulum swung. Speaking to her so appreciative now, his little slave in this madness of his always willing to follow him down their own little rabbit hole. "Oh Harley! I can't kill you! And I get it now. Because killing you would be just too good. Too sweet. It's just too damn greedy. You'd be my perfect murder. And after that, then what!? I'd be a knife without a hand. A collapsed bridge without a ten car pile up. Oh no." Her face became a mix of his hands, that gun, and several different affection smudges of that perfect complexion she boasted. Contorting it around, he smiled lovingly now at his pet as he soothed her over pleased. "Killing you in this room with this gun would be such a waste. Isn't that right?" Releasing her finally, he'd swing off her and slide down that bed. Ignoring the jabbing bar in his spine and opting to lay across her stomach while placing the pistol to his head, he'd stare at the ceiling absently. Thinking for a second before he'd flirt with springing a just kidding on her and beating her to death with the gun. Awww, but Harley was such a keeper.

Harley simply stared at this mad man, she wasn't sure what saved her life but her life being saved didn't matter. No not yet, not if she was left in this cell to rot without Joker. Her entire body that was still shaken from his acts of madness, would jump almost afraid that he would opt to smothering her instead of shooting her, well he hugged her into that wirey frame of his. But he was so close and Harley still missed him, even if he was seconds away from ending her life. She couldn't help herself, hands moved to his sides well he hugged her, she couldn't rightly remember what he felt like before this, but he felt like home. She listened to his words, her entire mind swimming with utter confusion as he told her how he couldn't kill her. It'd be too perfect. She continued to stare like a wounded animal who'd just been kicked by its savior, many her entire mind was slow to process what was happening. Off she was swung, as he got more comfortable if that was possible in a bed like that. Now again with that close contact, Harley started to feel like herself. That broken and picked a part mind of hers, that seemed like it had healed itself had just broken once again. But it broke in the Joker's favor. She was slowly slipping back into what she was before this, even if she didn't look the part anymore. The hand that held the gun would be brought down from his head and to his side, delicate little fingers offering as much force as they could. She hovered over him now, eyes staring out into the openness of the cell, but it was still second fiddle, next to her Puddin who was laying in stuck a nice position as far as Harley cared. Once again the minx like look return to her face as his loyal companion preened over him. "Right-a-roonie, Puddin!"

He would lavish in his decadent pose, resting on his clown girl and content to stay there forever. But chance ate away at him, mind wandering over the gun in his hand. Against his very skull. It was like it was whispering to him. He had to know if she would have been lost to him forever. Free hand grasped at metal surface as he hauled himself up to his feet, a horn blowing somewhere in his get up but him acting as if he hadn't heard it. "Oh but it's just killing me to know if that next chamber had the bullet Pooh. I've got to find out!" And again Harley was tortured with the gun pointed her way, Joker staring down at her laying on the bed and absently wondering if she had indeed been fated to die that day if he hadn't stayed his hand. Only one way to find out! As he prepared to fire, he caught the glimpse out of his eye and turned that arm. Luck rolled it's dice, and as the orderly entered the room confused as to why the cell was open. The clown and the man in white traded familiar looks, and Joker squeezed the trigger. The bullet that had been meant for his Pooh instead drilled itself into the shoulder of the bulky man whom immediately crumbled into the wall in surprise and shock. Looking at Harley, he'd balk at his statement before he made a comment that seemed completely incorrect. "You've got the worst luck don't you!?" He offered his hand out to her, to help her up. His open grasp a metaphor of sorts for Harley's uncertain and dangerous future. Stay in your cell and rot. Or more than likely die by this man's fortune down the road of chaos he walked. But he lovingly smiled at her. "Let's go Harley. I've got a empire to start."
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A Poison Ivy photoshop commission I just finished. I wanted to have her intertwined with the plants and roots almost like shes growing right out of them.
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090507
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Body: [link]
Head: [link]
Chest Armor: [link]
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