Harley Quinn (
totalwildcard) wrote2024-08-05 03:00 am
Needful Things Building; Monday
The Dream House was gone by morning, replaced again with the antique store and the apartment above it, both with all four walls intact, and the color scheme decidedly less pink.
And in said apartment, late in the morning, Harley woke up with a start. Like fully bolting upright and everything, with a gasp.
"... Barbie looks like me."
She couldn't believe it. She brought her hands up to her face, smooshing her cheeks.
"Like me."
This jaw! These cheekbones under her skin!
Something about it was making her eyes well up.
At least, until something else about the weekend came back to her. "Bruce!" Oh, God, he'd been eating something obviously plastic, all weekend long! Harley scrambled out of bed to find him - only to, yes, find him curled up in one of his usual spots, seemingly right as rain.
She still ended up taking him on a long walk around town. It took a while for her to be convinced that just as magically as he'd turned into a toy dog for the weekend, whatever the plastic stuff he'd been eating (and, to be fair, pooping out at what seemed like an alarming rate for a fully functioning gastric system) had just as magically turned into actually edible stuff in his guts when he'd turned back. He seemed fine! He was leaving behind dog shit that was the usual level of disgusting!
Still, between the long walk and then breakfast for both him and herself, the morning had already turned into the afternoon by the time something occurred to Harley, and sent her bolting down the stairs into the store.
There, she found the display of dolls of varying ages and kinds.
And there, tucked near the back, was a Barbie. Harley carefully pulled her out from between a Victorian-ish porcelain doll and a fairly creepy 1950s baby, and smiled down at her.
It was a little watery, but there was no one here to see it, was there?
"Oh, there you are."
Something in her chest ached a little.
(expecting one!)
And in said apartment, late in the morning, Harley woke up with a start. Like fully bolting upright and everything, with a gasp.
"... Barbie looks like me."
She couldn't believe it. She brought her hands up to her face, smooshing her cheeks.
"Like me."
This jaw! These cheekbones under her skin!
Something about it was making her eyes well up.
At least, until something else about the weekend came back to her. "Bruce!" Oh, God, he'd been eating something obviously plastic, all weekend long! Harley scrambled out of bed to find him - only to, yes, find him curled up in one of his usual spots, seemingly right as rain.
She still ended up taking him on a long walk around town. It took a while for her to be convinced that just as magically as he'd turned into a toy dog for the weekend, whatever the plastic stuff he'd been eating (and, to be fair, pooping out at what seemed like an alarming rate for a fully functioning gastric system) had just as magically turned into actually edible stuff in his guts when he'd turned back. He seemed fine! He was leaving behind dog shit that was the usual level of disgusting!
Still, between the long walk and then breakfast for both him and herself, the morning had already turned into the afternoon by the time something occurred to Harley, and sent her bolting down the stairs into the store.
There, she found the display of dolls of varying ages and kinds.
And there, tucked near the back, was a Barbie. Harley carefully pulled her out from between a Victorian-ish porcelain doll and a fairly creepy 1950s baby, and smiled down at her.
It was a little watery, but there was no one here to see it, was there?
"Oh, there you are."
Something in her chest ached a little.
(expecting one!)

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That was possibly not entirely about the past weekend.
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"Yeah," she murmured, "you too."
It wasn't at all about the weekend, with her.
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"Both here now," Marc said.
Then, because Marc's life was what it was, he specified, "You and me."
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"Kind of a good team?" he suggested.
What? They'd beat up guys together last time they saw one another.
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Whatever faces she'd pulled smoothed back out into a smile soon enough, anyway. "No, we gotta keep this thing nice and contained."
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"Right," he said. He held her a little tighter. "Contained."
He'd deny that was a pun.
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"And you're pretty good at keeping me contained," she noted easily. "With your strong arms and everything."
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"Aww, ya gonna have to keep an eye on me for a bit now? Like real close?"
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"Best I can," Marc said. "Don't think anybody could lock you down for good."
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However, she smirked a bit.
"But I'm good if you wanna keep watch today."
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That was a lie.
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He didn't need to read the narrative to know that. He'd seen the onesie.
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"Okay, okay, I'd hate for it to happen while I could be spending time with you, instead?" she offered. "Is that better? More believable?"
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Ignore how she probably still would be able to talk based on how the island handled people turning into pastel colored horse like creatures.
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Marc didn't pay attention to mythology.
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Harley was not so much basing her take on mythology as just vibes, of course.
"If they were just a horse with a horn, doncha think we'd have them around?"
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