Three Little Fics: Harley/Ivy, Bruce Wayne
Title: Night Release
Author: Cold Nostalgia
Disclaimer: Don’t own.
Rating: PG
Claim: Harley/Ivy
Prompt: 39. Sleep
Word count: 326
Summary: It was almost as if she were asleep.
It was almost as if she were asleep. If Harley concentrated hard enough she could block out the bleeping heart monitor, the sickening whirr of the ventilator, the overwhelming smell of disinfectant.
Harley had never really looked at Ivy when she was sleeping before; never bothered to consider the shadow of innocence that clung to her brow despite everything. Just another idea that never occurred to her. Time was up in the air now; everything that lay ahead of them, now nothing more than a distant possibility in a world of dark outcomes.
The blonde leaned forward in her chair, its creaking groan of protest too loud to her ears. “I miss ya, Pammy,” she said simply. Days of heartbreak and wretchedness rolled into one single sentence. “Come back soon, it’s no fun without ya.”
There was no answer but Harley hadn’t been expecting one. She’d long since come to understand and accept that expectations and reality rarely met on the same level.
Minutes ticked by unnoticed by the two women. The sudden dark hand on her orange clad shoulder was a blank note in Harley’s numb mind.
“Quinn,” he started, not unkindly. “It’s time to go back to Arkham.”
Harley half-turned, her hand tightening around Ivy’s limp fingers. “I don’t wanna go.”
His own hand tightened firmly, but not painfully. “Harley, the police are here.”
She turned back to Ivy; a million things she wished to say dying silently on her lips. Hesitantly settling for a chaste kiss to the unconscious woman’s forehead and gathering up a past that would come to naught, she stood slowly, shakily, managing nothing more than a quick nod of assent to the vigilante.
His grip on her shoulder relaxed, his eyes as compassionate as they ever could be, he wordlessly lead her away from a room full of dead flowers that would never be seen, cards which would never be read, and fruitless fruits that would forever go uneaten.
Title: Less Than Paper
Author: Cold Nostalgia
Disclaimer: Don’t own them.
Claim: Harley/Ivy
Prompt: 54. Betrayal
Rating: PG
Word count: 234
Summary: They’ve been together six months, not that Ivy noticed.
They’ve been together six months without the interruption of Arkham or Joker. A new record for them. An anniversary of sorts. Not that Ivy has been needy enough to count, or would even want to celebrate something as human or trivial or pathetic as an anniversary.
If anything she wants Harley gone and her life back.
She wants to work, uninterrupted, in her makeshift lab, labour tirelessly over a cause greater than herself. Ivy wants to enslave worthless men with the aid of a kiss and not feel the heat of jealous eyes on her back.
She wants not to wake up to a house of chaos and not think anything of it; indulge in petty gossip; have discussions concerning immaterial matters.
She is Poison Ivy.
A goddess made flesh. She is divine. She is The May Queen, both servant and mistress to every plant that thrives on planet Earth. She is their mother, their chosen warrior, their champion, their end and their beginning. Her kingdom is great; one day greater.
With Harley she is less than that. Time spent with the human is less time spent reaching her goals, each moment of shared laughter is a cutting betrayal, and every second spent in her arms is an absence from the battlefield.
A locust is in her bed.
And yet, she will do nothing.
She is nothing less than a traitor. Forever betraying herself.
Title: Scout’s Motto
Author/Artist: Cold Nostalgia
Theme: 21. Cold
Characters: Bruce Wayne
Rating: PG
Word count: 115
Disclaimer/claimer: Don’t own
Summary: He’d never given the matter much thought.
It is not how he expected it to end.
In truth, he’d never lain awake in the early morning sunlight giving the matter much thought. Bruce had always lived in the past, the present. The future was no more than possible scenarios that could be avoided through logic and planning.
If pressed, Bruce might have answered that his life would end in the wake of a rancid grin, shrieking laughter; or at the hands of a former friend on a day where fate looked down at him with indifferent eyes.
A small child with a gun never crossed his mind.
The bitter night chill that seeped right through to his bones had been a given.
Author: Cold Nostalgia
Disclaimer: Don’t own.
Rating: PG
Claim: Harley/Ivy
Prompt: 39. Sleep
Word count: 326
Summary: It was almost as if she were asleep.
It was almost as if she were asleep. If Harley concentrated hard enough she could block out the bleeping heart monitor, the sickening whirr of the ventilator, the overwhelming smell of disinfectant.
Harley had never really looked at Ivy when she was sleeping before; never bothered to consider the shadow of innocence that clung to her brow despite everything. Just another idea that never occurred to her. Time was up in the air now; everything that lay ahead of them, now nothing more than a distant possibility in a world of dark outcomes.
The blonde leaned forward in her chair, its creaking groan of protest too loud to her ears. “I miss ya, Pammy,” she said simply. Days of heartbreak and wretchedness rolled into one single sentence. “Come back soon, it’s no fun without ya.”
There was no answer but Harley hadn’t been expecting one. She’d long since come to understand and accept that expectations and reality rarely met on the same level.
Minutes ticked by unnoticed by the two women. The sudden dark hand on her orange clad shoulder was a blank note in Harley’s numb mind.
“Quinn,” he started, not unkindly. “It’s time to go back to Arkham.”
Harley half-turned, her hand tightening around Ivy’s limp fingers. “I don’t wanna go.”
His own hand tightened firmly, but not painfully. “Harley, the police are here.”
She turned back to Ivy; a million things she wished to say dying silently on her lips. Hesitantly settling for a chaste kiss to the unconscious woman’s forehead and gathering up a past that would come to naught, she stood slowly, shakily, managing nothing more than a quick nod of assent to the vigilante.
His grip on her shoulder relaxed, his eyes as compassionate as they ever could be, he wordlessly lead her away from a room full of dead flowers that would never be seen, cards which would never be read, and fruitless fruits that would forever go uneaten.
Title: Less Than Paper
Author: Cold Nostalgia
Disclaimer: Don’t own them.
Claim: Harley/Ivy
Prompt: 54. Betrayal
Rating: PG
Word count: 234
Summary: They’ve been together six months, not that Ivy noticed.
They’ve been together six months without the interruption of Arkham or Joker. A new record for them. An anniversary of sorts. Not that Ivy has been needy enough to count, or would even want to celebrate something as human or trivial or pathetic as an anniversary.
If anything she wants Harley gone and her life back.
She wants to work, uninterrupted, in her makeshift lab, labour tirelessly over a cause greater than herself. Ivy wants to enslave worthless men with the aid of a kiss and not feel the heat of jealous eyes on her back.
She wants not to wake up to a house of chaos and not think anything of it; indulge in petty gossip; have discussions concerning immaterial matters.
She is Poison Ivy.
A goddess made flesh. She is divine. She is The May Queen, both servant and mistress to every plant that thrives on planet Earth. She is their mother, their chosen warrior, their champion, their end and their beginning. Her kingdom is great; one day greater.
With Harley she is less than that. Time spent with the human is less time spent reaching her goals, each moment of shared laughter is a cutting betrayal, and every second spent in her arms is an absence from the battlefield.
A locust is in her bed.
And yet, she will do nothing.
She is nothing less than a traitor. Forever betraying herself.
Title: Scout’s Motto
Author/Artist: Cold Nostalgia
Theme: 21. Cold
Characters: Bruce Wayne
Rating: PG
Word count: 115
Disclaimer/claimer: Don’t own
Summary: He’d never given the matter much thought.
It is not how he expected it to end.
In truth, he’d never lain awake in the early morning sunlight giving the matter much thought. Bruce had always lived in the past, the present. The future was no more than possible scenarios that could be avoided through logic and planning.
If pressed, Bruce might have answered that his life would end in the wake of a rancid grin, shrieking laughter; or at the hands of a former friend on a day where fate looked down at him with indifferent eyes.
A small child with a gun never crossed his mind.
The bitter night chill that seeped right through to his bones had been a given.