Feb. 18th, 2014 07:43 pm
toxicodendron_radicans: (Almost Friendly)
Death came and she was replanted. Everything feels alien, yet she knows the names of the sounds, the words to decribe the stench in the air. She knows she is hunted. She cannot remember if she had any benefactors.

She wandered to a place called Sea Til. Some of the streets looked right. It smelled better than here. But it didn't feel right. She had acclimated to a new climate and she let the tar and stone ribbons through America take her here as if lured by some migratory instinct.

And so she sits on a bench in what she knows to be Robinson Park in some fiefdom named "Gotham," covered from the rain and the sun as to not be cased from this place until she understands why she is here.
toxicodendron_radicans: (Default)
The woman once known as Pamela Isley saunters into the room wrapped in the sent of oleander. "Deathstroke," she offers. "It's been awhile. I haven't heard from you since things went a little sour in your banana republic. I was beginning to think the Society you offered us had withered." She wasn't there when The Society dealt with the Outsiders. Probably just as well. Even she knew that kidnapping China's Mother of Champions would have caused more chaos then even she was willing to handle.

(CJ, welcome! Links are for your reference to show where Deathstroke has been. Deathstroke has been active on solo missions, but this is the first Ivy has been aware of what he's been doing since the assassin's nation plot. The Society is his response to the JLA lobotomizing Dr. Light and it's a large group of like-minded "in it for the money or power" villains that are together nominally for the purpose of mutual protection. Please feel free to ask questions and take this any direction you want. - M)
toxicodendron_radicans: (Slash!)
Moving this to private LJ so that it doesn't cutter an OOC post regarding another topic...

So )
toxicodendron_radicans: (Slash!)
So what kind of day can a former doctor and full time clown have?


Dec. 30th, 2005 03:46 am
toxicodendron_radicans: (Evil)
Click here.
Take the quiz.
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See ivy_lady's results. )
toxicodendron_radicans: (Default)
It was still a charred waste. Oh, the JLA and the local police had obviously been through here taking apart every device, vivisecting every one of her babies to see how they lived and breathed, uncaring of their life and beauty. Who cares for the rights of plants who cannot speak and are killed by unthinking, insane fauna who developed rights for themselves but nothing, nothing else that breathed or grew or felt?

Tefe would understand the rage, but not what to do about it. The Demon's Head would understand what to do, but not the why. How could he? This left her, and her alone, to do the work and teach them to defend themselves from invaders.

The dream died here. By Nightwing's hands. By the Flash's hands. All she had was the seeds of it now and the chance at a new harvest.

The equipment had cost a small fortune to get for such a rush job. Dr. Mid-Nite's work had been so helpful with the idea. If she could reverse the cell wall integrity with the right stimuli she could make this fall apart at just the right time and just the right way...

The JLA wanted her for the spores. The JSA would want her for the DNA and research she had taken before leaving. The Titans would want her for personal reasons and that was the most dangerous reason of all. Then there was the Batman and goddess knows what the hell he was prepared for. Deathstroke couldn't hide or protect her from that. Not for long. Not with the "heroes," raping minds these days. She and her mate needed room to grow, and the plot they were in was getting smaller all the time.

Plus, Dark Angel had a point. Divide and conquer. Divide the heroes from one another...create tension points and then drive in a spade. It should at the very least buy her time. And it was known among the elect of Batman's villains that he nor his apprentices actually killed. Otherwise, they'd all be dead. Nor was the Flash a killer...Thier intersection point? Those they loved dearly...the families...the team. And the intersection of those teams?

Don't push me, weed. I just came to tell you that if you ever, ever get close to Flash again, if you mess with him again, I'll plant you in the deepest, darkest cave in Siberia where not even lichen grows. I'm not kidding around. That's a promise.

Well, Ms. Quick...not if I do that to you first.

She rubbed her arm where she had to remove Magenta's shrapnel. Too bad she couldn't pin this on her. She was already crazy, and this was coming from an Arkhamite. It wasn't Magenta's clothes she was wearing or her hairbrush she'd taken however. The clone would reach completion in a few hours. It was programmed to go back to New York and seek out Jesse through post-hypnotic suggestion. She should get going before then. Something was missing though...She took out the crown and placed it with the clone. Then the ring gets placed on the clone's finger. There...Upon her "death," the spell should go away and everyone should be free to be their disgusting, thoughtless selves again.

And they thought her without pity...
toxicodendron_radicans: (Default)
Another day, another business deal. Funny, she expected the Halloween party to be a bit more of a joy to plan than this. Still, an easy 40K and yet another jerk male out of the gene pool. Plus, Bud sort of liked the femurs for crew toys.

"Oh, and we heard something else."

"And what's that?"

This was all very tiring. They all knew this was going to end in a gory death and a lot of money. Plus, they could threaten the remaining staff with repeat business. Still the demands came for more florishes. More requests for creative control from idiots who just did not get the art of it. All the why, Harliquinn was getting bored.

"That sometimes you and your girlfriend like to perform for the camera," he replies leering. "Not just the rabbit hunt either. We're big boys here."

Ah yes, the male facination with lesbianism...terrific. This makes three our of the last five stops that have asked for porn to be added to the show. What was the fascination she wondered as they giggled like boys at the thought. It was an area of sex where men weren't needed or involved. They just had to watch...Ah, that might be it, sloth. Sex without any effort at all. Hmph...she tuned back into the conversation.

"So we have, what Jake? About 3:1 that you take the clown to third base on film -"

"Harliqunn," Ivy corrects.


"Her name is Harliquinn." There's some frost in the voice. "Not 'clown.'"

"Right, whatever, so you do the guy and there's 40K, plus a third of the house take."



"Half...this IS Halloween, and we have a reputation here. This will be a special case. A real hitman with two real costumed criminals." A pause. "Plus you're asking for bonus features."

By the Great Green Goddess, she was becoming a hooker. Getting close to those business tycoons and private sector metas wasn't cheep and required contacts. Revenge and love were tough to manage - especially at the same time as the clown..er...Harleen.

She wondered when she would discover about the Joker being out, or about the fact the Society had her on low level fact finding and material gathering - and that Mr. J wasn't invited. Or, Goddess help her, if she discovered at all what this was really about and what Pamela Isley truly wanted out of this trip.
toxicodendron_radicans: (Evil)
This isn't nearly as satisfying as I'd hoped it would be. The hotels are nice. Harleen is interesting company and I'm applying designs for my babies all over the United States. Due to the remote location of some, they might even integrate and breed into the local flora. I'd love to see the developer that tries to build mini-malls and soulless apartment structures on the swamp I left last week.

The food all tastes the same. The hotels look alike. I still don't have vengeance for my real beloved and Harleen's warmth is no real comfort in the face of having someone who truly understands. All these rabbits and no real challenges. They aren't the real people I want to destroy and feed my babies with their meat.

Maybe I have lost focus. I do know I'm depressed and playing litter crew, while lucrative, isn't creating the world I want. It's removing such a small bit of the Earth's burdens for other wastes of space and resources. Still, the DNA I'm collecting from these mob bosses may yet prove useful. So far, however, it's sociopathic tendencies without spark or creativity. Also, no powers. I would like my beloved to keep up with me when I do make him.

Yes, "make," and "him." I should explain. I could have easily put the essence of my lover into Harleen by now, or even Deathstroke when he dropped them off. Deathstroke lacked charm, however and is too useful to me the way he is for a start. Also, as stupid and subservient as she can be at times I would never want to take away who Harleen is. That is the Joker's disease and rot on her soul. It is not the way I would like to prune and grow Harleen's eventual shape. She should be her free spirited self and be this beautiful destroyer of the insanity man creates - like the flood or volcano that lays down fertile soil and uproots anything it pleases in order to do it. Plus, I want children of all sorts and it is more difficult to create children with two females. There is competition with two X chromosomes as to who rules and what the the mitochondrial DNA should look like. There is just less to adjust with a male. To think "the passive," is linked with the female psychology even still within academic fields when a Y is just an incomplete X that will bind itself to the traits on the whole chromosome upon meeting! It is completely unnatural.

I guess I could seek the Flash. He provided a good host before. The powers were nice to have around and, for a male, he was a nice physical specimen. Still, Dr. Crane will tell you, the fear of something is better than actually doing it. I hope I can wreck more justice later upon his life, but in the meantime, let he and the little girl he discovered fear that I could put his mind back into a box when I feel like it. Let the males in the superhero set have nightmares about me consuming them like a a Pitcher Plant dissolves a fly. Let the women who have signed on against the world and I waste their worries on such imperfect creatures. Distraction is a beautiful thing.

No, for my love I want only the best and I have a plan. I will find what is worth saving in the muck of humanity. I will find these wasteful beings and drive out of them all impurities. Then, I shall blend the rest into something of beauty from the nucleus on up - a body worthy of such a magical spirit. I still haven't found my template, but I will. A gardener is nothing if not a very patient being.

Such things are not cheap, however, so back to work I go. This latest one, at least, has a Gotham accent and black hair, or so I'm told.
toxicodendron_radicans: (Default)
Working with Scarecrow during the Plague has been delightful. She so wishes it had lasted. She hopes it killed some of those supposed heroes. At least the disease experrts are estimating that it may have removed up to 150 million piece of meat from the surface of the good green world. Ivy and her partner had removed at least 50 more in that time. His obsession with fear was interesting enough - and effective. He wasn't as stupid of a male as most of them. Toxicology research with him could prove fascinating. She even considered briefly him becoming the new host for her beloved. She rejected it. Too skinny and pale. Too useful on his own merits. Not enough justice to be had. No, the host was going to be one of those pathetic male "heroes." One of the Batman's brood or one of Titans. He deserved such a healthy specimen and it would be fun watching some costumed mind bleeding away while he grew strong and lovely on the inside.

The forces of so called law and order were returning, forcing Ivy and Scarecrow to one of those summer cabins in the woods. He had said he wanted to talk. About himself likely. Didn't most men? Well, here she was.
toxicodendron_radicans: (i solemnly swear i'm up to no good)
Met a lovely young girl named Tefe. It's oddly nice. Someone like me. And not in an unpleasant way.

It's been quiet in the Park. Very quiet. No Batman. Makes a girl want to misbehave.

I suppose I could contact Nigma or Harley. Or give Selina some grief.

I don't really want to though. That's the trouble with being mostly content. I hope it doesn't last.
toxicodendron_radicans: (Default)
I take back everything I said about men having no uses. Nigma had quite a few. Hopefully plenty more where that came from. The way I look at it, Eddie's probably one of the few Rogues I can stand let alone sleep with.

Antidote or no antidote, he'll be back for more.

I admit it occurs to me that I should double-cross him but I'll wait to see how this progresses. He might be more useful to me if he's content. Men are easy to please.

I don't do guilt though I will be making a point not to tell the Flash about this.

Shiva's been a gracious host so far. She better be careful or I might never leave.

Hm. It's at times like this when I'm making bonsais that I yearn for girl-talk. I do have a cell phone though. Let's see if Harley's home.
toxicodendron_radicans: (Default)

I haven't wandered too far from the dojo, but I desperately needed some fresh air. I hope you don't mind the bonsai trees.

If you need me I'll be at My Alibi.

- Ivy
toxicodendron_radicans: (i solemnly swear i'm up to no good)
It has been so long since anyone has been as generous to me as people have been of late. Flash, Batman and now Shiva. Interesting. Perhaps someone is looking out for me after all.

Doubtlessly Shiva knows there's very little I wouldn't do to be spared from the dark cells of Arkham.

I will respect her wishes and not make trees spring out of the floorboards of her dojo. I steal some pots and soil. A few bonsai trees won't hurt and I need plants.

Television. There is one here though it looks decidedly unloved. Covered in dust and cobwebs. I let the spiders keep their homes but I turn the TV on.

"Known in some circles as Dr. Destiny has escaped from Arkham--"

I flip to the gardening channel. Much better.

So another one broke out. Plenty of work to distract Gotham's Finest. Hopefully Dee'll go the way of the Baffler. Really, who shed a tear when the Baffler bought the farm?

I set the remote on an endtable and curl up on the couch. I could use some sleep.
toxicodendron_radicans: (hm)
So Batman helped me. Not only that but he didn't drag me back to Arkham. What does that mean?

There's still the police to consider though. That Montoya woman seems very determined. So far I've avoided her but it's only a matter of time until we have a faceoff of some kind. I am very curious to see what the outcome of such an event will be. Perhaps too curious but I'd rather lose to someone new instead of Batman and his boys.

I've seen a bit of the Flash. I suppose his friends haven't had much luck in making him see the error of his ways. I myself am not sure I could or would like to convince him of my corruptive nature. He'll either notice or he won't in time.

I am surprised Batman hasn't raked me across the coals for that one, but it could be that Bats is busy shaking his head in disgust. Pity.
toxicodendron_radicans: (Default)
Surrender? To a full-grown man playing trick-or-treat? I don't think so.

My best trenchcoat's ruined. And do I ever feel guilty for the orphans I've been ignoring in favor of ruining one day for one badly-dressed superheroine and her band of reknown. Thank goodness Batman's predictable and is out there protecting people with real problems. I'd hate to think the whole League is out looking for little old me. The people of their respective cities should complain.

It was a scratch. If the Black Canary's so upset, she should come find me. Honestly. I've done worse to people I liked. I hate to see what blondie's guy-friends do when she breaks a nail.

The next person who comes in here after me, had better be Batman or a Gotham police officer. Someone who actually has a legitimate reason to arrest me. All the clowns can go home and back to their real jobs.

Surrender? Feh. Jackasses.
toxicodendron_radicans: (poison)
That didn't quite work out as I'd hoped but damn did that feel good. Heh. I can safely say that a little birdy told me what flowershops to avoid.

Behaving isn't in my nature. I missed this. Maybe that's why I've been so restless.

Mmm. I'm starting to like Valentine's Day as a day of vengence. Now here's hoping I don't get caught.

Still, it was only a little scratch, it's not like I won't be able to get out, and going to Arkham is inevitable really after a certain point. All roads lead there.

For now, I'll savor my small accomplishment and feed my babies. Momma's been very negligent.
toxicodendron_radicans: (Default)
The great thing about gas stations is gas station attendents. If they aren't acne-covered teenage boys who are too busy staring at my cleavage as I fill up my car, they're apathetic. Most gas stations don't even go after people who pull away from the pump without paying.

Needless to say, I do it all the time with my pink covertible. Who cares, really? What's twenty dollars to Exxon? Besides, I wouldn't dream of paying for what little gas I need for my hybrid.

I haven't left the park in ages. I needed to.

It's ironic that for all my talk about the effect I have on other people, I've managed to make myself itch with restlessness. I wish I could just go kill someone. That used to cheer me up. Then I think about my children.

I just have to wait for February. When the sun still hasn't returned and everyone goes to kill what little flowers are around for bouquets. By then I'll be over this momentary squeamishness. When it comes to adults.

I'm speeding. But when don't I speed? I drive dangerously because on nights like this, nothing really matters. Except the icy wind in my hair. I'm dressed warmly but I still am numb from the cold. The images of dead children being shoved back further into the darkest of the dark corners in my mind as I drive faster and faster.

Plants enjoy quiet solitude. They take it slow. They grow decade by decade. They can wait. They can ignore everything but sun and water.

I don't. Not as much as I pretend to. When I'm driving this car, it's almost like I'm Pamela Isley again.

Whoever she was.
toxicodendron_radicans: (toxic)
Danny. Justin. All the others. Gone. Dead. Poisoned. By me. Seven children left that I can save. And time is running out.

I can't believe I'm the one -- no, the thing -- killing these orphans. I don't have many answers only more questions. It's ironic really. Being responsible for killing the few people on this earth that I didn't wish for any harm to come to. Ever.

They were children. Innocent, good and unloved children. I wanted to nuture them. To save them from being alone. I didn't murder them. I didn't know. I didn't. I swear I didn't know. Not that it will matter to anyone in Gotham. They'll never let me out of Arkham if they catch me now.

I'll hopefully sort this out on my own though I'm sure it's only a matter of time before Batman tracks me down. He might listen though. I did help his manservant. I did care for those kids. Surely that counts for something.

It'll be February soon. And then Valentine's Day. Christmas and my plans for wrecking it did not go well. It wasn't because my heart grew three sizes so much as Harley's a klutz. And bad planning on my part. Heroes are distracting.

Which reminds me. No sign of the Flash. Good. If exposure to me over long periods of time kills, then it's better he left. Oh God, I have to keep Harley away from me too. And maybe I should invite the Joker to move in with me.

So on Valentine's Day, I'll work alone. Because I am alone and perhaps it's better this way. If I can't save these children, I'll at least make Gotham pay for slaughtering flowers by the hundreds. And for never giving these children homes. For making it necessary for them to turn to someone as toxic as myself. Because I couldn't save them but at least I wanted to.

Ruining a romantic day won't make the loss of any life I've nutured or cared for acceptable but then what ever does?

I will make people pay but no one will truly answer for their deaths besides myself.

I do suffer. In ways I hadn't imagined possible. I never saw myself as maternal towards children. And yet when I reflect on how I will never get a chance to tell them that I didn't mean to hurt them? That I loved them when I had promised myself that no human being would ever matter?

I hate myself. I hate whatever it is that I am. I regret everything. I would have given anything to have saved them. But I am not weak. I will grow stronger and find the source of this pollution in me.

And remove it.

I sincerely doubt I will ever have pleasant dreams again.
toxicodendron_radicans: (Default)
I'm so annoyed that I miss him. I'm not saying who and I'm not surprised he isn't around. Should have figured it was too good to be true.

Maybe I'll make Harley spend time with me. Christmas robbing went well and it was so petty that Batman doesn't seem to have been interested in cartering me off to Arkham. Partly because it was freezing and Harley complained the whole time. I can only deal with so many problems at once.

And the Flash -- Yes, I said his name. Go me. So much for denial -- well, he was just another distraction. A sorely missed distraction, but a distraction just the same. Sigh.
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