Author: Pirate Turner
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, names, codenames, places, items, fandoms, titles, and etc. are always © & TM their respective owners, not the author, and are used without permission. Any and all original characters and everything else is © & TM the author and may not be reproduced in any way without the author's express, written permission. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Poison flowers smell so sweet. It was something she'd known as a botanist, and something she continued to employ in the role of her new life as Mother Earth's protector. Ivy loved all flowers, but the poisonous ones were her favorites. They were all beautiful, but those who possessed a danger akin to her own, though in much smaller amounts, of course, were the ones most beautiful and the ones with the sweetest scents.
They were her friends, and her calling cards. She covered factories in them. She strangled idiots with them and let them know what was coming to their foolish, selfish hides by blowing the dust of poisonous flowers into their faces. Any corrupt mogul in Gotham, any person who had ever destroyed an innocent plant, tree, or flower, knew what was coming to them the moment they spied a rare orchid she left in their mailbox, on their desk, or on the steps of their very home.
They saw the flower first, and then they saw her. Like her flowers, Ivy's touch was silken. Her beauty called to them so strongly that few men or women could deny the attraction that pulled them straight forward to their deaths. Her touch was soft as a rose's petals as she wrapped her gloved hands around their necks and mouths. She saw the desire in their eyes, the desperate longing to touch what they knew they shouldn't, as her mouth angled in for hers.
When she kissed them, for one rare moment in their lives, the humans felt pure ecstasy, something very few of them had ever experienced before. Even those who had known pleasure never knew a pleasure like that which Ivy poured into them as her tongue slipped into their mouths. But, then, just like the Venus flytrap, she opened up further and ensnared her fly. Poison swept from her touch to fill their bodies.
Every one of them trembled against her in those last, fleeting moments. She'd often smile down at them and remark that they shouldn't play with Mother Nature or touch poison, but all the time, she knew they wouldn't be the last ones. There would always be humans who chose to overlook the poison of the world's rarest beauties, who thought they could get away with cultivating rare flowers like herself without being gripped back by equally hurtful hands, who thought they could rule Mother Nature.
Yet, Ivy knows no one rules Mother Nature. That's why the world's most beautiful plants are poisonous: to protect her beauty and her grace. Every selfish human who wants to possess all that is beautiful will not say no when they know they should. They won't turn from a beautiful thing they can control but, ultimately, never can, and in the end, that beauty will always control them. It will also be the means by which Ivy returns the Earth to her true glory: The selfishness and greed of the human race will continue to do them in every night until there are none of their kind left and only the plants and Ivy remain.
Title: "Mother Earth's Work"
Author: Pirate Turner
Word Count: 100
Date Written: 15 July, 2012
Challenge: For one of my 100 Drabbles of Summer with the Charloft LJ comm
Disclaimer: Pamela "Poison Ivy" Isley, all other recognizable characters mentioned within, and Gotham City are © & TM DC comics, not the author, and are used without permission. Everything else is © & TM the author. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
"There you go, my darlings," Ivy crooned, patting in the fresh dirt around her seedlings. She stood and surveyed her work. She watched her plants grow, overtaking the wreckage of the site where a factory had once stood mere minutes ago, before she had exploded it. She sighed with happy satisfaction. Her babies were so beautiful, but she didn't have time to stand here and keep watching them. She had work to do. Mother Nature had an entire Earth to replant. She'd show the humans how stupid they were, thinking anything manmade could overtake Nature. Then, she'd killed every human.
They were no strangers to death. They had each been visited by it at different times in their lives, afterwards, and in the in between moments. They had lost parents, siblings, teachers, and friends. They had felt the final breath go out of an enemy while their hands yet lingered upon their bodies. They had all died at least once only to come back to more suffering.
They should not be surprised by this moment. All of them had to have known, deep down, that it would come, but yet now that they were facing the actual grave, the inevitable seemed impossible. All of them wanted to cry at their impending loss. Even the bravest amongst them wanted to wail of how unfair this death was. None wanted to admit just how vulnerable losing this old friend would leave them.
Dick placed a comforting hand on Tim's shoulder. Jason paced nervously, wringing his hands with his need to pummel some one or thing. Alfred hovered, a silent sentry ready to defend and console but knowing, at this time, how to do neither. It was Bruce, as always, who finally broke the silence. "Well?" he persisted, leaning over Barbara's shoulder.
She tried again, then slammed her fist down with her frustration and wheeled away from her worktable. She shook her red head. "I'm sorry, Bruce. There's nothing I can do. The Batcomputer's dead." The bats suddenly flew, screaming, throughout the cave and echoing the sentiments of all who lived there.
Gotham's Bruce/Cat in
She cocks her head slightly to one side as she studies him from behind her armchair shield. When she first came to Wayne Manor, she would have never thought she could get the kid to throw food at her, but despite being a kid, he's still a male. Males always think with their hormones, and if you appeal to them, you can get them to do pretty much whatever you want. She may just be a child herself, but she's already learned this and a great deal many other things that young Brucie will never know.
The kid's strange. She gets his desire to have been able to do something, anything really, to fight the creep who killed his parents, but she knows, too, just as she told him earlier, that it would've only gotten him killed. There's a lot of things you can fight against -- she's already fought against most of them in her short life on the streets --, but you can't fight a gun.
He's like a kitten, she thinks as she watches him watching her and waiting for her to slip up so that one of his buns might actually connect. He's so full of curiosity and energy if it can just be turned toward the right thing. He's as optimistic as a kitten thinking he can find a forever home with the right family. But she's seen what happens to the kittens who don't learn. The good mother cats stick to their litters, protecting them and training them in how to survive the streets and which humans to trust. The bad ones leave them to fend for themselves as soon as they're old enough to be weaned; those litters usually don't make it long, unless she finds them in time to help them survive.
She wants a place like this, she thinks, casting a sideways glance around at the spacious living room. Maybe not with all the fancy vases and silverware that Alfred would croak if she broke, but one with enough space that all the kittens, and cats too, in Gotham City could run free and never have to worry about another crook, bully, or car. She wants enough room, and enough money, to truly be free. She'll have it one day, but Cat knows already she'll have to take every penny of it from those who don't deserve it and aren't smart enough to hold on to it.
Bruce is smart in many ways, but he's still just a dumb kid when it comes to the streets. She looks back at him and folds further into the shadow behind the chair. He thinks he can fight the crime in Gotham City, and any one, even that one cop, Gordon, stands no better chance at fighting the crime in their city than a kitten does in standing up to a prized Doberman. She's seen what a dog can do to a cat; she knows what the city will do to Bruce if he goes into it too early, especially at this age. He wouldn't last a day out there.
Alfred wants to help him. Cat knows the old man really cares about him, but his kind of honest fighting won't help the kid to survive. As she told him earlier, he's got to be smart, cunning, and most of all, ruthless. Alfred can't teach him what he needs to know to survive, but she can. She wonders when she started to care for the kid. Part of her tells herself she doesn't; another part understands that she sees a lot of herself in him. She wanted to do something about her parents after all for so many years until she finally accepted that they didn't want her and made up the story she fed him about her mother.
It was all lies. She wonders if he knows that, but then, the whole world is made up of lies. The news, the cops, especially the criminals, and everybody in between lies. They lie to cover themselves. They lie to cover their friends, their allies. They lie to make themselves believe things aren't as bad as they are, but Cat knows better.
She also know this kid needs help, and like herself, he deserves another chance. He deserves a chance at a real life, not just all these riches and comfortable things with which Alfred keeps him surrounded. He deserves a chance to find himself, to be whoever that person is, and not get killed in the process of trying to find out who he really is and what he's made of. She smiles as a piece of meat flies over her curly head. She's teaching him how to have fun. She can teach him much more than that, and like a kitten following his mother, she can teach him everything he really needs to know, including the most important lesson of all: that of how to survive.
Bruce/Selina + Cats in
She stirs slowly to consciousness, feeling her cats licking the back of her neck as they do to wake her every time she sleeps on her stomach. She lingers still, yearning, with all her heart, to not have to relinquish her wonderful dreams. She loves Bruce Wayne and Batman, both sides of the same man, with all her heart, but it is only in her dreams where they can be happy, only therein where the law doesn't keep separating them.
She lingers as long as she can, the morning sunlight flushing her bare skin as she holds to her memories of the dream until she feels something is not quite right. Her head lifts, her piercing emerald eyes immediately at the alert.
She is surrounded by cats, but none of them are her usuals. She frowns as she takes in her surroundings. This isn't her bed, or her room. She rolls over, her hands groping for her clothes and weapons.
What she finds, instead, is another hand. Her wild eyes snap to it; she recognizes it immediately, even before the fingers entwine with hers. "Bruce?" she asks, puzzled. He smiles up at her, and then she takes another look at their hands. "Last night," she whispers in a mixture of surprise, shock, and awe, "wasn't a dream . . . "
Gold winks up at her as happiness again floods her soul. Her smile is so bright that he doesn't have the heart to begin the speech he's been laying there preparing. "These cats," he offers instead, "found a way in." It's lame, but right now, his heart is pounding too loudly for even his genius brain to be able to think clearly.
Her smile turns to a grin. "They always do. You'll find, living with me, darrrling, that my cats always find me."
"So? We're certainly not throwing them away. That may be how you handle innocents, but it's not the way -- "
"There's going to have to be a lot of changes." There already has been a lot of changes, but how was he supposed to know the love of his life was waiting in a minibar, drinking a catnip martini? Or that the atmosphere, the catnip, being so close to her again in this city of wild chances and dreams . . .
Oh, Hell, he couldn't even fool himself! He'd wanted to do what he'd done last night ever since he'd first met Selina Kyle. Her beauty took his breath away every time he saw her. Her sense of vengeance both awed and frightened him. She haunted his every dream, and it was to only her that he could ever give his heart.
"I'll meet you half way," she purrs, cradling his lap with her long, slender legs, "if you'll meet me."
His last thought before he allows himself to once more be swept up in their passionate love is he's going to have a time explaining this to Alfred! The old man was right: He never should have come to Las Vegas without backup!
Alfred + Bruce/Selina in
He's seen it all through years serving the Wayne family. He became adept long ago at removing lipstick from collars and trousers and grass stains from children's shorts. He's sewn together every costume Batman and his sidekicks have so many times he's suggested Master Wayne buy stock in the needle company. He's worked miracles with clothes detergent and bleach, but still, he's never had a problem quite like this.
Wearily, he sighs and ducks his Master's black leather shorts once more into the solution. "I am never going to remove all this catnip!" He really should ask for a raise.