(Upload) Psych_30 prompt 7) Nature vs. Nurture (A tale of Glass, Steel and The Green)
The writers block is gone, and I'm back on track with the psych_30 entries. I was checking my prompt card (it worked for something, woo!), and decided Nature vs. Nurture HAD to be Ivy’s. And since I’m developing a fetish for Gotham as a living thing of sorts, I liked the image of the three Gs in different planes: Gaia’s Chosen, the Green and Gotham. I’m not very familiar with current Ivy continuity *lowers head in shame*, but this Woodrue is based on the Swamp Thing TBP vol. 1. Everything else is taking a little bit from everywhere. I can’t be expected to keep track of Floronic Man of all people…
I'm also reading Batman: Jekyll and Hyde today, and I think I finally have a Harvey bunny. It was about time, too!
Also, I have no idea if the prompt was fulfilled in any way.
Fandom: DC comic/animated
Title: A tale of Glass, Steel and The Green
Characters: Poison Ivy, Floronic Man
Rating: PG
Prompt: 7 - Nature vs. Nurture
Word Count: 850
Spoilers: Mild? Maybe? For Ivy's backstory with Woodrue
Warnings: None
Summary: Men have their deities. Women have their own.
Disclaimer: I don't own the rogues, but I could probably use a holiday in Arkham
A/N: The table is here. Beta by awesome tmelange.
A tale of Glass, Steel and The Green
During the riot, Jason Woodrue escaped the Asylum and ran mindlessly, trying to get away from his stony, lifeless prison, trying to reach the Voice of the Green.
It was a clear night, and even though the lights were out in this cold, gray city, he could see perfectly well, the full moon lighting the streets and plazas. But in the streets and plazas there were no Voices, there was barely any Green willing to speak to him. The restrained trees lining the sidewalks and the potted plants turned their backs on him, as if they too were made of the cold glass and hard steel that polluted the whole city.
He heard the sirens of the police cars in the distance. Many other inmates had escaped during the riot, some of them causing immediate mayhem on the streets, others finding refuge to make plans for another day. Woodrue himself didn’t care about plans or mayhem; he only cared about the Green. He, the Voice of the Wilderness, would not be denied, not even in this bleak stronghold of Man.
After what felt like too much walking, he reached Robinson Park. His feet hurt from walking over concrete and asphalt, and he welcomed the fresh feeling of dewy grass and the softness of the soil. He breathed in, reaching into the smells of pine and grass and wood and water and Green, easily forgetting the hot, foggy smells of the streets behind him.
As he walked into the park, he noticed that here too, the Green refused to speak with him. Scowling, he reached for the memory of the Earth’s Voice in his head, pulling at it like a spoiled child clamoring for attention. The Green couldn’t be still angry with him. He was the Grief and Rage of the Wilderness, and if he had hurt the Green before, it had been an unwilling mistake. The Green was all loving, all encompassing; it wouldn’t hold a grudge against its own Chosen One.
“If I were you, I would stop doing that. My babies don’t like clingy suitors,” a Voice said, stepping out of a small oak grove. He heard the woman, but he couldn’t hear the oaks. It wasn’t right. He tugged at the Earth Voice memory again, demanding to be heeded.
“I told you,” and as the woman spoke, a root crawled from the soil and grabbed his ankles forcibly, “to stop doing that. Gaia doesn’t want to speak with you, Professor Woodrue.”
“Wood-rue. Only Wood-rue,” he corrected her, staring at the root holding him in place.
“I know your name well enough, Professor, and I will address you as I please. I think I’ve earned it.”
He snapped his head in her direction, his barky skin creaking with the sudden movevent. “…Pamela?”
Her smile was red and full, ripe. It was the smile of seduction and summer, of passion and heat, all consuming and the bringer of completion and death. She reminded him of the sickly sweetness of a fevered July. He vaguely remembered her, a girl from another life. His student? His creation? Yes. His victim.
“Pamela Isley. I remember you. I made you,” he smiled, devouring her with his eyes. She made a wonderful addition to the Green.
“You made me?” She looked angry for a moment, like the red thunderous sky before a summer storm. Then she laughed and the rage was gone, all that was left in her voice was the heavy feeling of humid heat. “I was chosen by Gaia. I’m the May Queen. What you did, for your stupid, petty Man purposes, only unknowingly helped me fulfill my destiny.”
“I’m the Green’s Voice. You belong to me,” Woodrue said, his smile faltering as anger started to boil inside him. She was nothing but a minion, a minor minion of the Green, and she was proclaiming herself Gaia’s Chosen? She didn’t know her place. But he would show her.
He reached for Earth’s Voice, not just demanding her attention but taking it by force. The root on his ankle released him, and with a loud snap reached out for the red haired woman in the middle of the oak grove. Long before reaching her, the root slowed down and curled itself in the soil, going back to sleep. The Green was distant and it wouldn’t follow his orders.
“You don’t understand, Professor. Earth doesn’t belong to Man. I don’t belong to you. I’m Gaia’s Chosen, and this is my home. You have no power in here.”
She stood there, pale skin perfect under the moonlight, her fiery mane dancing in the breeze, dark woods around her, and behind the woods, the City, looming cold and dangerous around Robinson Park. The City skyline gleamed in the moonlight in the same way her skin did, and even in his derangement, Jason Woodrue knew he had lost. The May Queen had outgrown him, and the cold glass and the hard steel would protect their Green. Without a word, he turned his back on her, and started walking towards the streets, searching his way out of Gotham.
I'm also reading Batman: Jekyll and Hyde today, and I think I finally have a Harvey bunny. It was about time, too!
Also, I have no idea if the prompt was fulfilled in any way.
Fandom: DC comic/animated
Title: A tale of Glass, Steel and The Green
Characters: Poison Ivy, Floronic Man
Rating: PG
Prompt: 7 - Nature vs. Nurture
Word Count: 850
Spoilers: Mild? Maybe? For Ivy's backstory with Woodrue
Warnings: None
Summary: Men have their deities. Women have their own.
Disclaimer: I don't own the rogues, but I could probably use a holiday in Arkham
A/N: The table is here. Beta by awesome tmelange.
A tale of Glass, Steel and The Green
During the riot, Jason Woodrue escaped the Asylum and ran mindlessly, trying to get away from his stony, lifeless prison, trying to reach the Voice of the Green.
It was a clear night, and even though the lights were out in this cold, gray city, he could see perfectly well, the full moon lighting the streets and plazas. But in the streets and plazas there were no Voices, there was barely any Green willing to speak to him. The restrained trees lining the sidewalks and the potted plants turned their backs on him, as if they too were made of the cold glass and hard steel that polluted the whole city.
He heard the sirens of the police cars in the distance. Many other inmates had escaped during the riot, some of them causing immediate mayhem on the streets, others finding refuge to make plans for another day. Woodrue himself didn’t care about plans or mayhem; he only cared about the Green. He, the Voice of the Wilderness, would not be denied, not even in this bleak stronghold of Man.
After what felt like too much walking, he reached Robinson Park. His feet hurt from walking over concrete and asphalt, and he welcomed the fresh feeling of dewy grass and the softness of the soil. He breathed in, reaching into the smells of pine and grass and wood and water and Green, easily forgetting the hot, foggy smells of the streets behind him.
As he walked into the park, he noticed that here too, the Green refused to speak with him. Scowling, he reached for the memory of the Earth’s Voice in his head, pulling at it like a spoiled child clamoring for attention. The Green couldn’t be still angry with him. He was the Grief and Rage of the Wilderness, and if he had hurt the Green before, it had been an unwilling mistake. The Green was all loving, all encompassing; it wouldn’t hold a grudge against its own Chosen One.
“If I were you, I would stop doing that. My babies don’t like clingy suitors,” a Voice said, stepping out of a small oak grove. He heard the woman, but he couldn’t hear the oaks. It wasn’t right. He tugged at the Earth Voice memory again, demanding to be heeded.
“I told you,” and as the woman spoke, a root crawled from the soil and grabbed his ankles forcibly, “to stop doing that. Gaia doesn’t want to speak with you, Professor Woodrue.”
“Wood-rue. Only Wood-rue,” he corrected her, staring at the root holding him in place.
“I know your name well enough, Professor, and I will address you as I please. I think I’ve earned it.”
He snapped his head in her direction, his barky skin creaking with the sudden movevent. “…Pamela?”
Her smile was red and full, ripe. It was the smile of seduction and summer, of passion and heat, all consuming and the bringer of completion and death. She reminded him of the sickly sweetness of a fevered July. He vaguely remembered her, a girl from another life. His student? His creation? Yes. His victim.
“Pamela Isley. I remember you. I made you,” he smiled, devouring her with his eyes. She made a wonderful addition to the Green.
“You made me?” She looked angry for a moment, like the red thunderous sky before a summer storm. Then she laughed and the rage was gone, all that was left in her voice was the heavy feeling of humid heat. “I was chosen by Gaia. I’m the May Queen. What you did, for your stupid, petty Man purposes, only unknowingly helped me fulfill my destiny.”
“I’m the Green’s Voice. You belong to me,” Woodrue said, his smile faltering as anger started to boil inside him. She was nothing but a minion, a minor minion of the Green, and she was proclaiming herself Gaia’s Chosen? She didn’t know her place. But he would show her.
He reached for Earth’s Voice, not just demanding her attention but taking it by force. The root on his ankle released him, and with a loud snap reached out for the red haired woman in the middle of the oak grove. Long before reaching her, the root slowed down and curled itself in the soil, going back to sleep. The Green was distant and it wouldn’t follow his orders.
“You don’t understand, Professor. Earth doesn’t belong to Man. I don’t belong to you. I’m Gaia’s Chosen, and this is my home. You have no power in here.”
She stood there, pale skin perfect under the moonlight, her fiery mane dancing in the breeze, dark woods around her, and behind the woods, the City, looming cold and dangerous around Robinson Park. The City skyline gleamed in the moonlight in the same way her skin did, and even in his derangement, Jason Woodrue knew he had lost. The May Queen had outgrown him, and the cold glass and the hard steel would protect their Green. Without a word, he turned his back on her, and started walking towards the streets, searching his way out of Gotham.