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Story Notes:
Title: Guys and Dolls

Universe: Gen.

Genre: Gen./Romance

Rating: G?

Characters: Joker/ Harley Quinn, Batman

Word Count: 368

Warnings: None.

2nd place batfic contest DOLLS
Everything about her was like a Barbie, she had a wholesome look about her….blond and blue eyed…curves on a lean figure. She was the girl who could do anything.
“Hi, I’m criminal psychiatrist Barbie", he half expected her to say.

She wore her doctor’s coat like a costume. Black tie to match her shoes, red shirt to match her lips, thick glasses perched on a little nose, a smile she stupidly carried everywhere. She looked like a little girl’s idea of what a criminal psychiatrist should be. She looked like a cheap toy in a glossy box cover. She looked too unreal.

She was a walking cliché’ and it was too good to be true. She was perfect. He had wanted a new toy and now he got a life-size one. A plastic thing that repeated the same phrases if you pressed a button; “And how does that make you feel?”

She even said, “Let’s play a game,” in a sing song voice and then started on some quick word association…it was like those crank toys with the animal sounds...the cow goes moo.

And what were Barbies for but for playing? You could comb their hair…undress them anywhere. And then chuck them to the side when you got bored. He was a boy after all, and that meant he’d rather have an action figure. That meant the doll had to endure getting pulled by the hair, being catapulted out the window, being run over with the monster trucks…and then if he felt like it, having the action figure come in and save her. She was the butt of all his imaginings. She was the girl. And it was fun.

He gave her a name, changed her outfit, her makeup...a doll was a more personalized thing; an action figure just came the way it was. He made her his until after a while he expected her to say, “Hi, I’m bedlam Barbie!” And if he expected it of her, she would.

So he had his own little doll…and she was his favorite plaything after the action figure, though he would never admit it. Because what sort of boy plays with Barbies? Even if it involved popping their heads off.

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