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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He could want too, in his own way.
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She'd had a coherent thought or two about how she wanted to play this, a moment ago. Maybe she could regain it through nipping at his lips, in return?
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A very serious complaint, clearly.
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He wasn't removing his hands though.
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She shook her head and pressed her forehead to his. Make him deal with how unsteady her breathing was, or something. While going for another grind against him. "You're distracting."
Yeah, yeah, pot, kettle.
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"Look who's talking."
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"I'm always talkin'," Harley retorted in a sigh, though yes, that also meant she was admitting to always being distracting. "It's what I do."
Though right now she also hooked two of her fingers under his jaw, tilting it up a little.
"But at least I'm not unsure about whether ya want me, anymore. Downstairs tellin' me loud and clear."
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Especially since he could see it happen.
"Every part?"
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"Didn't think pinkie'd be your first choice, anyway."
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Her expression faltered, just for a second, in the wobbly way he'd seen already just today, before she pulled it together into a smirk. "Oh, I'm gonna make ya regret that."
A weak joke, and an even weaker lead-in to what she actually planned to do.
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Ignore how he placed a light kiss on her cheek, right where some of her makeup was still smeared. No meaning to that at all.
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"Oh, just like you to think threats and promises are the same."
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Well, she knew more than most people did at least.
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Kidding. Sort of.
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They were more like suggestions to her.
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He was starting to admire it in a way.
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That explained it, sure.
"And I don't wanna miss out on you."
She was beginning to pull away, though, but he could rest assured it was for good, fun reasons.
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But of course, the movement caught Bruce's attention, which in turn caught Harley's attention, and she gestured him towards the door.
"Go on, baby," she told him. "Mama's gonna do some stuff that's not for good boys like you to see."
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