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Title: Tripped Up
Disclaimer: Don’t own them.
Challenge/Claim: Harley & Ivy
Characters/Ships: Harley/Holly, Harley/Ivy, Catwoman
Timeline: Post-Countdown
Rating: PG/R
Prompt: 19. Mistake
Word Count: 523
Summary: It’d been Holly she’d been thinking of when she’d stormed out of the apartment.
She’d only gone out for a walk to get a bit of air, to get away from all the snide putdowns Selina Kyle kept firing in her direction. To get out of the apartment before it turned nasty; before Harley said something she would simultaneously regret and be proud of.
It was Holly that she had been thinking of when she’d stormed out of there. Harley had only wanted to save her from an awkward position; save her from the embarrassment that Harley knew she had been reeling from even though she hadn’t shown it.
Harley had only meant to be gone for an hour, enough time for things to calm down, for Catwoman to get over herself. She hadn’t meant for it for to happen.
It’d been an accident. She hadn’t been thinking. Just one of those things. A mistake.
It had been pure chance that she’d run into Ivy on the corner of Fifth Avenue, she hadn’t been thinking when Ivy had all but demanded that they caught up over coffee, and Harley caved like a cardboard box in a thunderstorm.
It had always been next to impossible to deny Ivy anything, objecting to a simple cup of coffee seemed silly. It wasn’t like she’d agreed to a robbery, or a murder, or any thing else on the wrong side of the law for that matter.
It was just a cup of coffee. Nothing more.
And it had been nice. Real nice. Nice to see Ivy so well; so well, and so much saner than the last time they’d met. Nice just to talk to another human being and not have the fact that she’d been sick in the head, or the fact that she couldn’t hold down a job that at one time she might have looked down upon, constantly thrown in her face.
It’d been like stepping into a pair of comfy old shoes, familiar and not unpleasantly surprising. And maybe this was where Harley had screwed up. Maybe she should have headed for home after the coffee. Maybe she shouldn’t have let Ivy talk her into going for cocktails even though she’d never been that much of a drinker.
Harley just wanted to hear more about Ivy’s time with the Injustice League, wanted to see Ivy do more impressions of Luthor and Killer Frost. It was the instant re-connection that did it, the heady nostalgia. It was real, it was there, and it hadn’t been that maddening, impenetrable fog that surrounded the East End Trinity. The fog that kept her separate, an outsider.
It’d been a mistake. A simple drunken mistake.
Harley had never been able to handle her liquor, and she didn’t know what she was doing when Ivy merrily placed a stabilizing arm around her shoulder and guided Harley back to her hideout and into her bed.
She hadn’t known what she was doing. It had been Holly that she’d been thinking of when she’d stormed out of the apartment. Holly’s feelings and no one else’s.
The problem was Harley didn’t have an excuse to cling to when she went back to Ivy’s hideout two days later, or the day after that, or the day after that, or the day after that.
Title: Beginning of an End/Coda
Author: Cold Nostalgia
Word Count: 1,028
Claim: Harley & Ivy
Characters/Ships: Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Livewire, Harley/Joker
Prompt: #46. Cast-off
Rating: PG
Summary: The greatest girl-pal team in the history of the universe was now a thing of the past.
Author Notes: DCAU/B:TAS – set after Girls Nite Out and before events in ROTJ
Deep down she’d kinda suspected it was going to happen as soon that dumb ol’ light bulb, Livewire had darkened their door again. By the time Harley had found herself standing outside The Gotham City Museum for three hours in the pouring rain as a lookout, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt…
The greatest girl-pal team in the history of the universe was now a thing of the past…
She’d been dumped. Deserted. Cast-off.
She’d been ditched like Jessie from Toy Story 2 except Ivy hadn’t even bothered to put her in a box and place her in storage. She’d just left her there, standing on the sidewalk on a freezing November night looking like an idiot. That passer-by who’d stopped and asked her if she needed directions had been salt in an already stinging wound.
But she was fine. Just dandy. Whatever teeny-tiny, split-second of hurt she might have felt as soon as she realised that R-Poison Ivy and that dumb spark plug had abandoned her disappeared as soon as she’d gotten out of the rain and into this nice, cosy, ten-bucks-an-hour hotel room.
It had given her a chance to take stock. It had given her a chance to figure out where she going wrong, and she was, she was going wrong. The events of the evening had only proven that to her with all the force of a cream pie to the face. Not only that, in a weird way it had proven Ivy right too.
She was a doormat. She was weak.
Hadn’t she let Livewire walk all over her, make her kinda nervous and scared during the first team up? Hadn’t she let Batsy walk all over her that time Mister J was going to nuke the city? Hadn’t she let the doctors at Arkham walk all over her, and talk her into reforming that one time? And hadn’t she let that self-righteous, arrogant, tree-hugger walk over her time and time and time again?
Sure. Sure she had.
It was no wonder that Mister J got so mad at her at all the time. Now that the revelation had hit like a popgun, Harley could only marvel at her puddin’s infinite patience when it came to her. Surely a lesser man would have had her killed by now.
She’d been soft. Weak. Too wishy-washy in her allegiances. She’d let herself get distracted to easily. Goofed-off too much.
Well no more.
She’d left her old life and put on a costume for a reason, but she hadn’t dedicated herself to it, not really, not in the way she should have been. She’d been too busy trying to be everybody’s friend, trying to hold their hand and sing kumbya; not realising that outside of Mister J she had no friends or allies.
Loving Mister J was a serious business, and she’d been treating it as if it were a laughing matter.
It was time to toughen up. It was time to focus. It was time to fully get behind her man, help him get rid of Batsy in whatever way he wanted, however he wanted, no matter the cost; maybe then he could finally move on with his life.
And as for Poison Ivy, she was persona non grata as far as Harley was concerned. Mister J had been right about her all along; that no-good vegetable lover would probably come crawling back to her full of false apologies, telling Harley she hadn’t meant it as soon as the wheels of her mutual appreciation society with Livewire came flying off. But that didn’t matter; she wasn’t going to be a doormat anymore; she wasn’t going to allow herself to be manipulated anymore…
Next time Harley saw her she’d treat Ivy like the manure that she loved so much…
And she wouldn’t miss Ivy either; she wouldn’t miss their crime sprees – Mister J’s were better; she wouldn’t miss talking to her – she had Bud and Lou, they were better listeners; she wouldn’t miss going to Ivy’s house when Mister J’s torment became so great that he needed to be alone – there were hotels, there were doctors; neither of them nagged. Most importantly she wouldn’t miss their friendship – a person couldn’t miss what never existed.
Tomorrow was a brand new day, and tomorrow there would be a new Harley Quinn. A Harley Quinn that was more help than hindrance. One that was more pro-active. One that didn’t have flashes of her Grandma’s disapproving face each time she lifted a gun. One that made useful suggestions to Mister J; plans that aimed at the Bats weaknesses, not his strengths. She’d been a psychiatrist for god’s sake!
Maybe make a joke about Robin going missing, she thought as she sat and listened to sirens wail from somewhere outside in the city below. Mister J’s the smartest guy in the world; he’ll know what to do. He’ll know how to run with it.
Besides, what was the worst that could happen? Harley reasoned, suddenly full of calm and inner peace as a result of her epiphany, a cold smile cracked along a warmed face. The Bat throws a fit and we get tossed back into Arkham again? Puh-lease.
With her mind made up and a new plan of action laid out in front of her; Harley wondered if she wasn’t being too hard on Ivy. After all, if Ivy had done what she had then Harley would still be the same useless goof ball she had been not only but a few hours ago. Maybe she should be grateful, not hateful.
And with that in mind, Harley reached over to the grubby telephone beside her bed, dialled the number of an local late-night florist and ordered a large basket of yellow roses, filled with potpourri, with a thank you card attached to be delivered to her very former ex-best friend at Arkham in the morning.
Perhaps it was the least she could do since her anonymous tip-off to the police regarding the location of Ivy and Livewire’s hideout, a few hours earlier, was what probably got them both captured in the first place.
Title: Hunger
Discaimer: Don’t own them.
Rating: PG
Challenge/Claim: Harley & Ivy
Table: Here
Word Count: 278
Prompt: 6. Enhanced Taste
Summary: Be careful what you wish for
“… And your wish shall be granted,” said The Spirit of the Blood Lily.
Ivy hadn’t heard the spirit speak at the time. She’d been too preoccupied with fending off the remaining temple guards. Despite her wealth of talents, physical combat had never been her strongest suit and it had taken her a little longer to dispatch the temple’s guardians who had so rudely surrounded them at the last moment.
It hadn’t been Harley’s fault; even Ivy could see that in the end. Harley hadn’t vocalized the wish, hadn’t even realised she’d made one. Imagining how wonderful it would be to have a special ability in order to impress that psychotic clown of hers was no crime.
It might have been pure idiocy, but it hadn’t been a crime.
At first it had been funny. Watching Harley cough, splutter and dance around the campfire like a cartoon character after she’d put that first spoonful of food into her mouth that evening had been a hoot. It’d been a justice of sorts. Justice for a wasted trip; justice for an idiotic blunder that had ruined months of careful planning and preparation.
And then after a couple few days it became apparent that Harley couldn’t eat anything. Even bland foods like rice cakes or bananas would cause her to double over in pain, her choked sobs as she forced the offending items down had ran through Ivy like a chainsaw hitting bark
It was around about that time it stopped being even remotely funny.
There was only so many ways that one could say: “Don’t worry, I’ll find a cure,” as their best friend wasted away in front of their eyes, before it lost all meaning.
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I especially liked that first one! Poor Harley! And bad Selina, you should know better about dealing with second chances.
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A companion piece, or sequel if you will, from Selina and Holly's POV is in the works. It might see the light of day sometime this century.
Thanks for the FB, I really appreciate it. :)
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Those all feel so intriguingly delicious. I love the rounder view of Harley you bring in your fics!
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