toxicodendrcn

[toxicodendrcn]

gotclowned​:

Something about Ivy’s presence soothed Harley on the spot. She felt herself relax a little just knowing she was there. Knowing she wasn’t alone in this alley, or in this world. Her friend’s face was kind and yet she didn’t believe her. She started looking for signs in her expression that would reveal how bad she was really hurt, because usually, as experience had taught both of them, Harley wasn’t a very good judge of that. But no trace. The comment made her laugh again, revealing a row of perfect, white, if blood-stained teeth.

She knew Pam didn’t believe in love anymore. Harley hated that thought. What was there to live for but love? She hated the fact that somebody had taken that feeling from Ivy, the chance to give yourself to someone and trust them with your heart, with your life. 

The blonde was still transfixed on her glass-spiked arm when her friend spoke, but she could tell Ivy had followed her gaze up to the shattered window. She wanted to shake her head no at the question, but thought better of it as to not dizzy herself more. She didn’t think better of speaking though. “I didn’t wanna be pushed out the window,” she said before she could stop her stupid mouth from babbling. She closed her eyes to try and stop the stars from dancing around before her. “It was —“ It wasn’t like Mr. J had tried to hurt her. She knew that. She knew him. Harley’s mind was racing from the untamed passion that had rained down on her tonight, she couldn’t finish one cohesive thought from the constant pouding in her head and the fog that had spread to her synapses. She didn’t ask very many questions when she was offered something at parties, especially not from him.

She must have said something. She must have gone too far. It happened so fast.

Suddenly Harley was very aware that this night must have left their marks on her. The blonde usually wore bruises like trophies. Evidence her man had left on her that she was really his, to show she belonged with him. To make him see that she would prove her love for him with every test he would confront her with and enjoy it. But she knew they would only make it worse for Pam. They would only make her worried. Make her hate him more.

Harley had dreamed of a future where Pam would come around for dinner with the family. Where Harley would cook and get them drinks while she heard Ivy and Joker joked in the living room of a huge house. Harley would drop the hyenas both a huge chunk of meat and Pam would bring them a beautiful plant for their garden. Also huge, of course. But here, on the ground with Gotham’s ugliest face embracing her, that future seemed far. Impossible. Because nothing would ever make Pam understand that Harley didn’t need saving. It was so hard making her understand that when she looked so helpless.

Was he? Was he waiting for her in there? Had he left already? Did he think she would go home and meet him there? What would he think when he came outside and she was gone? He would think she left him, he would think—

“He… I need to —” She closed her eyes, and this time she didn’t laugh. She wanted to protest more, say no, say I want to stay, but she couldn’t. Bitter tears painted her face in more littler eyeshadow. She just let the vines sweep her up in a tight embrace, yet soft enough to only make her flinch a little when they graced the wounds she barely noticed now. The movement set her dizziness ablaze, and she murmured “Red?” like she needed affirmations that her friend was still by her side. They’d been through this so many times. Every time Harley promised herself that she would prove to Pam that she was okay, that she could handle it by herself. And she could. All those thoughts were so much louder than what Ivy was saying, although Harley tried real hard to listen to her. Drunk, she was drunk. That much was true. Of course she couldn’t think straight. Now, the thought of being in Pam’s warm apartment was so comforting that she couldn’t bare fighting it.

🌺 ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴇsᴛʀᴏʏɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ, ɪ'ᴍ sᴀᴠɪɴɢ ɪᴛ❟

Call her soft all you want. She didn’t know of another person she’s so quick to defend even if Harley might’ve ACTUALLY done the thing people accused her of. Even on the days their talks ended in round of righteous FUCK YOUS and slamming doors, she can’t think of anywhere or anyone she’d come to the rescue of other than Harley herself and no matter how crazy she might be, Ivy knew she’d do the same. Ride or die, bitches, that’s the goal. Still, she had a process of dragging Harley away from the Joker and aside from a few looks she gave when assessing the damage that had been done, true words wouldn’t be spoken until her door locks clicked tightly behind them. 

Maybe, in some strange ways, Harley reminded her of the girl she was once. Her parents raised her to believe in love. They weren’t bad people, nor bad parents, but looking back at them now? She’d yawn and roll her eyes of the delusion they shared between themselves. Love? Love left her broken and withering in excruciating pain. Love left her wishing for death... and when death didn’t come, love was but a word used in mass hysteria. She knew, Ivy thought, love didn’t leave you broken or in pain. It didn’t constitute as love if it damaged you. Love, she thought, didn’t leave you wishing the other was dead and with pride when you learned they were. Marc LeGrand was dead and she danced on the grave of Love.

Ivy, because there’s no denying the way her skin darkened with green, felt her teeth clench. So it was his fault. If there’s anything Harley’s friendship has taught her, it’s the knowledge that witness accounts can be faulty. “Damn it, Harley.” she grumbled under her breath. Save friend now, kill her lover later. That’s the goal in her head now. The kinds of thoughts that filled her, they weren’t Pamela Isley. She made sure to disconnect that part of herself when she seeped with incontrollable rage and her body took control. Of course Harley would say no, don’t do that... Don’t hurt Mister J, but Ivy was tired of him hurting Harley and LIVING.

𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆? Certainly not BirdBrain and his wonder fuck head sidekick. No, their attempts of saving them only ended with their names being smeared and the good guys getting pats on the backs. Harley would be in Arkham if one of the heroes had come across her. She’d be devoid of any light, any peace, any... well, everything. Better it Poison Ivy than one of those fuckheads. Ivy would never imagine a world where the Joker was Harley’s savior when he was also her villain. The villains saved each other if they could get over their tendencies to screw everyone over. At least Poison Ivy saved Harley. That’s what mattered in her head. She’d never see a world where the Joker wasn’t a head on a silver platter and she was the reason for it. Apparently temporary maimings weren’t enough for the demented clown. She’d have to do something a little more permanent...

“You need to... shut up,” Ivy told her with an almost playful tisk. She’d have a way to make her if she didn’t but Ivy hardly resorted to that desperate measure. In the mist of quietness, Ivy turned slightly to see her friend and she, without a doubt, nodded. “I’m still here, Harley.” It was a promise she had said before and it was a promise she had yet to take back. “I’m not going anywhere.” Yet, but even so, she’d invite Harley wherever she went even at the risk of it being a target on both of their heads. “Close your eyes,” came a soft coo and what seemed to be a soft, gentle rocking motion as heels connected one after the other on the pavement.

☲ The night went as you’d expect --- STRUGGLE HEAVY as she got Harley back to her apartment and helped her get out of the torn, bloody and whatever other liquid she had soaked into before Ivy scooped her up fabric. By this point she hadn’t even batted an eye as she picked out the glass from Harley’s skin, wherever it was, and washed her up. In the end the goal was to get her into a soft onesie she kept on hand knowing they were Harley’s favorite. It was about comfort after all even when the vines plopped her down onto one of Ivy’s couches and she flicked on Adult Swim for her to watch until she drifted off into slumber. “You’ll be okay,” It’s something she always told her, no matter what. One day, she’d be more than the thought of needing the Joker to exist. One day she’d live for herself. One day, this would mean something. It’s hard not to be soft when she had to pick glass out of places glass shouldn’t of been. “You hear me?” Her fingers are soft as she turned Harley’s chin to look at her. “Just aim for the bucket.” 

#» 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛. « interaction. #gotclowned. #domestic abuse tw #violence tw #ignore the guy

[toxicodendrcn]

ANIMAL (2014) dir. Brett Simmons

#» 𝑖'𝑚 𝑎 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑. « mirror. #giving me pre poison ivy vibes #and with that i'm outtie

[toxicodendrcn]

gotclowned​:

Her giggling had subsided by the time faint yet confident footsteps stopped by her side. Had her pleading been heard? Had he changed his mind and come to get her? Wait. Heels. Those had definitely been heels, and a familiar warmth spread next to Harley as someone got down to her level. Literally. The blonde opened her eyes just enough to see her best friend, and a sigh escaped her lips. “Red,” she wispered. Her words barely found their way into Harley’s foggy consciousness she was so desperately holding onto, though they seemed to be so soft, so warm and inviting. They let her know that she had someone to take over the responsibility for her not dying out here on the street. Her reply was a whispered phrase so usual for her that she didn’t have to trouble her brain for it. “I’m fine” tumbled across her tongue, a mantra she had internalized so much that it had become true, followed by a giggle that shook her frame. She was fine. If she could deal with one thing, it was pain. Joker had taught her that.

Tough love. But love nonetheless.

Ivy. What was she doing here? This usually wasn’t Ivy’s crowd, one of the reasons being that she couldn’t usually stand being in the same room as Mr. J for longer periods of time. And he owned this place and the people in it to ensure that throwing drinks and breaking windows didn’t stop the party. But Ivy always seemed to be there when Harley needed someone, out of the blue.

Harley shook her head, fast, and immediately was hit with regret. The alleyway started spinning faster, a sharp pain shot through her head. “No, I —” She raised her arm, pointing toward the broken window reflecting the colorful lights, pouring smoke, music and people’s voices from what seemed like a world away. Her gaze met her own bloodied arm, diamond tattoos pierced by clear shards that made the lights dance as she moved. Undoubtedly glass from the window she’d fallen through to land here. Shit. Harley pushed that thought way to the back of her mind and cleared her throat. “I need to get back… back in there. Mr. J is waiting for me.”

This was a temporary condition. She would straighten up in a minute, wipe the tear stains and glitter off her face, pluck out the glass from her skin and go in there and make it right. Her head would stop hurting in a minute, or maybe she would just take some painkillers. She just needed to take a little break lying out here on the ground. What worried her more was that Ivy would most likely blame her man for what had happened here.

She didn’t understand these things. She didn’t understand that this was just how they were. That this was what she wanted it to be like.

After all, it had taken a psych degree for her to find true love and Ivy had been done wrong by men all her life. If Harley found the man who had caused her all that pain back in the day, she would rip out his limbs one by one and make him eat them. She was sure that that was what Ivy planned for J all along, but she didn’t understand that it was not the same thing.

The haze clouding Harley’s sight revealed her friend for a split second, and she realized there was a little more green to her skin and red to the locks falling around her kind face as she would have liked. Harley wanted to grab her friends arm, but then she didn’t want to ruin her clothing. “Red… it’s not his fault. I’m fine.”

🌺 ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴇsᴛʀᴏʏɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ, ɪ'ᴍ sᴀᴠɪɴɢ ɪᴛ❟

Her expression is warm despite the fact that this isn’t the first time Harley’s been in a situation like this. She’s the first, if only, person to tell her the Joker is the worst kind of man to mess with. That’s not to say she doesn’t think Harley couldn’t end him where he stood, because it’s far from that, but there’s something in Harley that seems to think he gave a shit about her. That he’s not completely using her just like he uses everyone he comes across in one way or another. “Hey, Beautiful.” she coos softly, a finger runs down the side of Harley’s cheek to lift up her chin a little higher. I’m fine and yet her finger had collected a familiar liquid almost the same shade of her painted nails. “Oh, you’re fine. I must’ve mistook you for not fine.” Like she doesn’t completely look like a newborn deer struggling to walk for the first time.

She knows pain and she knows crazy. Harley’s worse than a bag of rabid cats and yet there’s a kind of (  crazy  ) they seem to share amongst themselves. Sure, when she went to college she hadn’t expected it would lead her much less because of a man who decided she was only worth being a test subject for cruelty and pain. Sʜᴇ'ᴅ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ʜᴇ ᴅᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʟᴇss ᴛʜᴀɴ Bᴀᴛᴍᴀɴ ᴋɪʟʟɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ.​ At least she could point out the fact that she didn’t do it herself, as many times as she had dreamt of the scenarios. AND FOR WHAT? All in the name of love? Maybe it’s that... she’s been the broken woman thrown away, maybe less times than Harley, but still broken never the less. The only difference is her pain helped her. What was Harley’s pain doing? Well other than being swept under the rug... being mistaken for love. Love is merely a fable parents told their children to make sense out of two people being together. 

Pam wasn’t sure how this seemed to always happen. Whether Harley came crawling to her place to be patched up or Poison Ivy’s stepping down dark alleyways looking for a drink and a good fight, she was always there to pick her friend up. Her eyes glance up at the window Harley pointed at before shaking her head, “So you decided to be a human canonball?” She’d never claim to know what Harley was thinking but she’d also never completely judge the thoughts she had. However it made sense for Harley to choose a window over a door, it didn’t matter now and she’d forget by morning light if Harley was some shred of okay. The only judgment she really had in this moment now was the fact that it smelled like shit in this alley and even worse from the stench pouring out of the window. She really, really needed to get Harley a better place to hang out in. There were better places to party than the Joker’s shitty ratchet fire hazard and poor excuse of a bar.

“Is he?” Her finger moves from Harley’s chin, just making sure it can be held up on it’s own or if it falls back. “Babe, you’re drunk,” Not out of your mind but definitely something else that can’t seem to scratch the surface of what her friend was, “and you have glass in your ditties.” She didn’t need to look down very much to know that much. Pam’s almost convinced she’d find a whole window in there if Harley was able to shake out her bra at the moment. By what point is Harley going to get it? The Joker didn’t care if she were on his hip or a bleeding mess in the alley. At this moment, Pam didn’t bother to say it. She’d say it once Harley is at her place, glass free and showered, crying on her couch instead. Besides, it’s not like Harley had much strength to say no. “Whatever you say, Firecracker,” which oddly enough was one of her favorite kinds of popsicles when she was a little kid and for a moment she moves her head back to look at her friend... just in case she’s hallucinating her to be a person rather than a broken popsicle instead. When she’s satisfied it’s not a hallucination she instead flicks a wrist and from the dark cracks of the alley sprout vines.

“We’re leaving and you can say no all you want but Drunkies,” and whatever drugs the Joker gave her to “open her mind” that night were, “don’t get a say in being babied.” Pam makes a point to poke Harley’s forehead just enough to tip her back into the sort of sweet embrace of the vines that had grown with her will. “What do you want your sober meal to be? Tequila or Le Bernardin? I wonder if they Uber yet...” but never mind that really, by this point she’s talking to herself while Harley does what Harley does tangled up in her vines. “Do they give sippy cups to grown women? I’ll have to ask.” Her eyes narrow before her head shakes away the thought. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter.”

#» 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛. « interaction. #gotclowned. #mental health tw #domestic abuse tw #drugs trade #just in case? #a general tw #just some bad bitches in an alley it's fine

[toxicodendrcn]

#» 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒'𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑐ℎ. 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑠𝑜 𝑎𝑚 𝑖. « musing.

[toxicodendrcn]

immortalweapon​:

As Iron Fist, with his bandanna over his face and a hood over his head, Danny could run the city with a lot more freedom than he normally might be able to. The changes to the Accords meant he no longer had to worry about being arrested for vigilantism if he were unmasked, but… his company was still cause for concern. The board at Rand had been looking for a reason to get rid of him ever since he returned and vigilantism was sure to be a good enough reason to vote him out. (Better, perhaps, than their claims towards his mental instability. Danny’s mouth still went dry at the memory of Birch, at the recollection of being institutionalized against his will and forced to stay there.) 

He wasn’t Iron Fist today. Today, he was Danny Rand, walking home from the grocery store with paper bags of food clutched in his arms. It didn’t mean his feet didn’t itch when he saw robbers running by, didn’t mean he wasn’t fully prepared to put his bags down and stop them. But before he got the chance… they fell. Danny swore he saw the ivy growing in the cracks of the sidewalk move out to trip them, but he blinked and it was gone. His heart was in his throat as he wondered if he might have imagined it somehow, and he quickly approached a nearby woman to ask if she’d seen it too.

Unfortunately, she seemed to have missed it. “I thought…” Danny trailed off, looking to the green sprouts in the sidewalk. A dark thought wondered if maybe they hadn’t been entirely wrong to lock him in an institution. He shook it away. “Never mind. Yeah. Uh, we should call someone. Can you hold my groceries so I can get my phone?”

🌺 ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴇsᴛʀᴏʏɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ, ɪ'ᴍ sᴀᴠɪɴɢ ɪᴛ❟

It’s not like she could ever relate. Poison Ivy wouldn’t ever be a household name people would be happy to say. Usually when it’s mentioned, so much more rarer these days, she’s reminded of the terrible things she had done in the name of saving the planet. Well whoopsie daisy! Lillian it was these days, watching and judging those who donned masks and tights in the name of justice. There’s no true desire to fight for peace these days. It’s not like it’s an achievable goal with so many assholes deeming their point of views to be the only one worth it. That’s also not to say she’d ever apologize for what she did either nor would she go back to Arkham.

She hadn’t expected someone to be so close otherwise she would’ve let them go... a little further, anyway. Either way, she’d get her kicks watching them fall flat on their faces and smash in the fleshiest bits of their bodies. Science, she could argue, was gravity simply catching up with them in form of karma. “Thought what?” Pam wondered softly, almost in a coo even. “If you say so.” It almost sounded like she would’ve listened to whatever nonsense he was about to sprout off. Maybe Harley was rubbing off on her? Heck, she’s had plenty of sessions... maybe she’d go get a degree in therapy too! On second thought, she hated people too much to do that. “We should call the police, yes.” she reminded him, unsure of what other kinds of SOMEONE he could be referring to after all. Pam’s eyes flash to the brown bags in the man’s arms and internally grumbled. Of course. “Sure,” A small price to pay of not having the police get a sniff for her and linking her phone. She’d simply be a pretty witness in the background.

Taking the bags felt like a chore and yet, she could tell the lack of greens in the bag. Her eyes glance down to see the obvious egg carton, a thing of milk, bread, some lettuce... “You really sure have more vegetables and fruits in here, buddy.” Cause if she had to hold the crap, she’d pick it apart too. “Kale’s pretty healthy if you’re a bodybuilder.” There’s not a sense of flirting to her words, more so an observation. “It has more protein than red meat.” Say for an instance she just sees the fact that he’s got muscles... and not some vegan-head roaming the streets looking to hassle people. “If you’re into that anyway.” She speaks around bits of information he’s telling the person on the other end, listening to whether or not he mentions the vines. JUST IN CASE, AFTER ALL.

#» 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛. « interaction. #immortalweapon. #she's such a witch #mental health tw

[toxicodendrcn]

ELIZABETH GILLIES

via her instagram on January 15th, 2021.

#» 𝑖'𝑚 𝑎 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑. « mirror. #serving up some looks

[toxicodendrcn]

He never gave me any flowers, so I grew my own.

#» 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒'𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑐ℎ. 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑠𝑜 𝑎𝑚 𝑖. « musing.

[toxicodendrcn]

wondxrbird​:

“ 𝐢 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬. ” || @toxicodendrcn​

“I know you didn’t” said Dick, keeping his distance from the woman and staring at her, trying to figure out whether if there was a catch in all of that “still I can’t help but think that you really enjoy being like that”.

🌺 ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴇsᴛʀᴏʏɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ, ɪ'ᴍ sᴀᴠɪɴɢ ɪᴛ❟

She isn’t sure how he found her nor is she convinced it’s an accident but never the less, she’s not letting her guard down. Her eyes narrow suspiciously. She doesn’t make much attempt to move other than to shift her weight from one foot to the other. Her arms cross over her chest but other than that, she stays where she stands. “Maybe you need to open your dull little mind then Bird-Brain,” It’s almost fitting, isn’t it? “I left that life years ago. I’ve been good,” As good as someone could be when they’re mostly kind of sane. There’s no way she’d try to convince him of her point of view when they share something so similar it’s different. He protected men and whatever else sorry excuse but her? She wanted a greener Earth and for women to be safe. Pam had stopped trying to get people to understand that. They didn’t care.

Once upon a time, she was happy to be the villain of the week. Now? She wanted to be left alone. “If you need proof, check the police reports. Poison Ivy is dead.” Her flesh isn’t green and her hair is dull. Pam is practically suffocating when the poison sings in her veins. “If you don’t understand that, that’s a you problem isn’t it?”

#» 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛. « interaction. #wondxrbird. #pam? defensive? nooooo #pam vc: i'm not going back to arkham bitch #there were probably reports of a green haired woman doing the occasional save tho

[toxicodendrcn]

gotclowned​:

@toxicodendrcn

A few years ago back in Gotham…

[tw: abuse, violence, domestic violence, gaslighting, mention of blood…]

Harley shivered. The night was cold against her skin, and her hazy breath making shapes in the midnight air made her giggle. Her voice rang through the cold, bouncing off the brick walls around her, then it got lost in the bass that poured out from the broken window above. 

This was a place they often came to. For business. For pleasure. For the heat of the night that more often than not had Mr J in a good mood. Tonight was not one of those nights.

The laughter that rang in her ears sounded so familiar that she thought he might come looking for her. That he’d turn the corner and swoop her up in her arms. Tell her it was just a joke. But as she tried to sit up and sent the world spiraling around her, and found the dark alleyway greeting her, she choked on her own laughter, doubling over to endure the pain she was so used to.

Drinks, dancing. A tight grip of his hand. Affection. A word or two, the fire in his eyes. His hands on her throat. Passion and pain. Free falling.

Harley stared up at the night sky through a thick fog of what must have been a veil of tears and mascara and glitter and she struggled to take a breath as the truth of Gotham City engulfed her. Willing him to look outside from where she’d exited the building, to come and sweet talk her into another drink, another dance. Her head was pounding, from the bass that filled the air, the buzz that had been one too many drinks or the heat of the fight - or maybe the fact that her head had hit the ground pretty hard.

What did she say? What did she do wrong? The blur of the night played over and over in her head, just to pretend he was here with her, to replace the emptiness with the moments before that affection had turned into blood-red anger.

She felt strands of electric pink and blue hair sticking to her face where a new shade of red mixed with the pink of her lips. She tried for raising a hand to her head, but when she did, there was something sharp digging into her skin, biting back a scream that tumbled over her lips as just another fit of laughter that had her close her eyes and let the haze cascade overher and consume her until he would notice she wasn’t coming back.

🌺 ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴇsᴛʀᴏʏɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ, ɪ'ᴍ sᴀᴠɪɴɢ ɪᴛ❟

She’d be the first to admit it these days: she didn’t like people. Fuck people, fuck ‘em! The world would be so much better without them in it. It would definitely be a whole lot greener, that’s for sure. Her particular cup of rage leaned toward men and their desire to protect the world and belittle women in the process. Pamela Isley is, and was, a well known botanist. She had a degree... and it was lowered to what? Nothing, of course. The only one who got recognition was the man who jumpstarted her metamorphous into Poison Ivy. What did she get in return? Jack shit. The FBI couldn’t even get her name straight. All they saw were tits and a pretty face, and nothing else. She still had much to do and yet so little time to do it.

There were flashes in her mind. Memories like claws digging into the farthest and darkest reaches of her mind. I love you, Pammy. That’s what Marc said over and over... even as she withered on the cold marble tile in agonizing pain as he only watched. He probably thought she’d die, and oh how she wished she had at the time. She wished for Death to take her away from the burning in her veins and the forming anger in her heart. By the time the vines came, the anger had turned into blood boiling rage; but Marc was gone and Pamela Isley? She might as well of been gone too. Stolen away by some strange force, replaced by green flesh and raging red hair until her desire to make him, and the rest of the world, pay. For what? Why, everything! 

It’s what set her down this path; this specific street pounding with nearby music and chatter, yet her intention wasn’t to get drunk and entertain herself into the wee hours of the morning. She was supposed to meet someone who could point her in the right direction of something she needed but they hadn’t bothered to show up. Joke’s on her, expecting someone to keep their word just once. JUST FUCKING ONCE! But no, they had to be a let down too.

As she neared the alley she suspected was the entrance, because at least she’d get a drink and fuck up everyone’s night instead, spiked high heels stop when she realized the lump just up ahead was a woman -- not a bag of trash, as one might think. She moved once more before she stopped just a few inches from the woman and crouched down at eye level with her. “Hey, Sugar,” Her voice is almost a beckoning purr to catch her attention. “You look like you’ve seen better days.” Pamela’s eyes move from scrapped knees to what appeared to be bleed coming from somewhere around her scalp. It’s probably safe to assume a man, or a few, were responsible for her current state but there’s more concerned to get her out of here first. She’d come back later. “Why don’t you come with me?”

#» 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛. « interaction. #gotclowned. #violence tw #misandry tw #rational tw

[toxicodendrcn]

#» 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒'𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑐ℎ. 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑠𝑜 𝑎𝑚 𝑖. « musing.

[toxicodendrcn]

𝐏 𝐀 𝐌: I'm sorry.. You hear that sound? That's the sound of your freedom fluttering out the window forever.  𝐇 𝐀 𝐑 𝐋 𝐄 𝐘: I don't care. I'm not gonna help you hurt him.  𝐏 𝐀 𝐌: I can't believe you're getting so worked up about some guy.  𝐇 𝐀 𝐑 𝐋 𝐄 𝐘: This time is different. He's honest, and-and he's sweet--  𝐏 𝐀 𝐌: Please!  𝐇 𝐀 𝐑 𝐋 𝐄 𝐘: He would never do anything to hurt me.  𝐏 𝐀 𝐌: He's a guy!                    /          @gotclowned

#» 𝑛𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑢𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑟. « harley. #i might've watched hercules last night and with one minor change my muse was sparked.

[toxicodendrcn]

#» 𝑖'𝑚 𝑎 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑. « mirror. #what a drama queen.

[toxicodendrcn]

@gotclowned

holiday shopping spree

#» 𝑛𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑢𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑟. « harley.

[toxicodendrcn]

❛ hey… did you see that? ❜ / @immortalweapon​

The worst part about Arkham wasn’t the fact that she was there against her will but rather the lack of plants inside it. Sure, if she had access to them she would’ve broken herself out... but whose counting? There’s a difference between then and now. She slowly felt as if she were suffocating against her will in that asylum and now, the less and less she used her abilities, she was suffocating herself of her own free will. Pam, under the assumption that her powers made her do terrible things, tried not to use them unless she absolutely had to. She believed she could use them little bits at a time to help herself but not enough to attract attention. The last thing she needed was Birdbrain and Babybat coming after her again when she’s made herself at home with a florist shop and a new place to live. Gather, with crazy friends but...

She’s not sure why she had motioned her hand to the men running away from her, causing vines of ivy to grow from the cracks of the foundation and trip them so they fall flat on their faces. Sure, it might’ve been painful to smash their faces against concrete but... They stopped and the bags of money they had stolen fell around them. For a moment, just a moment, she considered stealing it herself but then there’s a voice behind her and she clears her throat. The vines are already disappearing back into the cracks they came from and Pam turns to the voice.

“See what?” Never mind the fact that her skin tone has a faint green to it now and her hair has a little more red to it. “Men are so clumsy sometimes. You should call the police.”

#» 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛. « interaction. #immortalweapon. #mental health tw

[toxicodendrcn]

❛ looking for me? ❜ / @mistressofmagic​

Pam hummed a tune as she looked over the pictures on her phone before looking at the woman in front of her. “I’m looking for a magician though you look nothing like Sir Walter the Third. He’s a bit more... balder and far less pretty.” It’s not the fact that she hates men, though that could be a factor. It’s more so she’s a fan of empowering and complimenting women without expecting something in return. “I’m starting to think I was ghosted by a magician.”

#» 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛. « interaction. #mistressofmagic.

[toxicodendrcn]

❛ am i… doing something wrong? ❜ / @vengeancedemons​

She stared at the man with an almost blank expression. Maybe it was the quirk of her lips or judgmental HMPF! when he passed up a bouquet of blooming lilies she assumed he was staring at -- because if not, he was having a stare fest while he suffered in his head. “Other than the fact that you smell like a smokehouse?” Pam had it in her to be honest. Maybe a little too honest... “Did you come in my shop to buy something or get out of the cold?”

#» 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛. « interaction. #vengencedemons. #hope this is okay!

[toxicodendrcn]

hulkout​:

[ … L O A D I N G … ]

Bruce picks at the edge of a physical folder, knowing the information that was inside was likely more personal than even he thought. Why the interest? Bruce frowns, unable to respond right away. It’s his job to be interested. His job to pick and poke at the FBI folk who use mutates as pin cushions for all of the wrong reasons - to turn them into weapons and destroy lives that are already hanging on thin threads.

But worse, Bruce wants to make sure there’s a future where he’s not in it.

“I’m Bruce Banner. Physicist. If Tony describes me, he says’ hermit-nerd’ so there’s that.” He wants to wring his hands together, but the folder is getting in the way. His watch feels too tight, and the cuffs of his sleeves too lose. “Also, The Hulk.”

The scientist pauses, waits for a reaction, before continuing, words a little faster with his anxiety. “This isn’t your name.” Another pause, “Well, it is- but it isn’t. This is you,” He throws the file down on the table in front of him, leg bouncing up and down while he waits for her to…well, he doesn’t know what. Stabbing? Slapping? A stern-shouting?

🌺 ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴇsᴛʀᴏʏɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ, ɪ'ᴍ sᴀᴠɪɴɢ ɪᴛ❟

There were things she tried to forget albeit some were harder than others. When she donned this false name, she tried to forget the fact that she was deemed an ecoterrorist. Another statement men got wrong -- she wasn’t trying to end the world, just make it greener even if it meant killing a few men here and there. Did the world really, truly suffer without men? Not in her eyes. She tried to believe Marc’s death was worth it at the hands of Batman except she almost missed the fucker. He got his just desserts being turned into a head with vines for limbs. Try to replicate greatness and fail, serves him right in her head... but maybe she wanted to kill him herself. Maybe she’d have better closure there, like Harley had said.

Perfectly groomed eyebrows rose as it sank in. She knew Doctor Banner in the science circles but she never had much use for a physicist when she was a botanist. “Doctor Banner,” She almost went with Mister, but she knew the struggle of not being raised to true potential. If she called him Mister, it’s almost an insult. “or would you prefer Mister?” Pam questioned lowly, drawing out vowels. Yet after she asks, she sees him in 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 new light. “The Hulk, huh?” Sure she’s heard of both men. One is slightly large and scientist-y and the other is a freakishly large man who shouldn’t exist in the science terms. Green? Being green isn’t nessecarily a bad thing but if you knew what happened when she was green, it would probably terrify you (AND MAKE YOU WANT TO CRUCIFY HER). Maybe he had expected her reaction to be that of cringe or accusing but she stands there, arms crossed.

What truly gets her is the fact that he 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐒 the FBI got her name wrong but she can’t help but feel as if he’s calling out her facade this time around too. “I don’t often call scientists wrong but you are, most certainly, wrong.” Pam gave a shrug as if it’s nothing but she almost wants to strangle him. His words sound so sharp and accusing in her head. “This is you,” That’s somehow what she’s been lowered to, huh? “That easily broken love sick girl was who I was. The girl who let men walk all over her and crush her dreams... and for what? What was the reason? He wanted to kill me, not change me.” There’s a sort of maniacal laugh that follows, “And in the end, he became a man with vines for limbs and a head too big for them. Truth be told... it was kind of hot.” Kind of, kind of not. “That isn’t who I am now. I don’t do that anymore.’ She assumes he knows what she did... but if he’s not here with police, he’s here on his own accord. “So what do you want from me, Banner? To say it hurt like hell? It hurt like hell. I wished for death when poison ate away at my insides. I remember it felt like lava and how I thought burning to death would be better...” Her voice faded before her eyes narrowed. “I won’t be a test subject if that’s what you’re getting at.” 

#» 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛. « interaction. #hulkout. #my girl is PARANOID. #mental health tw #suicide tw