Despite what the people who make the movies that wind up on the big screen want you to believe, superheroes (and to that extent, supervillains) aren’t perfect.
One of those is a lot more obvious than the other, but you’ve probably guessed that by now.
At their core, both parties are people who dress up in spandex and leather mish-mashes to go seek vigilante justice and/or cause trouble for the world at large. They’re people with human flaws and foibles that do their best to live their lives to the best of their abilities. Sometimes in spite of their abilities. The average citizen looks up to these people—yes, both heroes and villains—like they would any celebrity, but it’s important to remember that super people are still people; subject and susceptible to the same faults as all of us.
And though she was loathe to admit it, Poison Ivy was far more “people” than she liked to admit.
The denial of her humanity had taken many forms over the years; starting with a general sort of misanthropy towards humans as well as a sense of bonding towards plant life, and culminating with not just one but several attempts to either rid the world of humans or make them slaves to vegetation (and, by effect, herself).
However, the re-emergence of her human side… her real self, buried somewhere beneath the green skin and psychopathy, didn’t start to come back around until she had met Harley Quinn.
There were plenty of reasons why this shouldn’t have worked as well as it did. Harley was loud, abrasive, annoying, and (at the time) in an incredibly toxic and abusive on-again, off-again relationship with a psychotic clown.
But she was also brilliant, charming (in her own way) and had a way of looking on the funny side of things that really spoke to Ivy. In a deep, weird, spiritual way… Ivy had come to feel like she needed Harley in her life, in whatever capacity that she was comfortable with.
Luckily, Harley was incredibly comfortable with everything between long-distance, non-committal girlfriends and total monogamy. They’d always had spells where they’d go long time without talking to each other, but as soon as they reunited they’d always picked up exactly where they left off. Then they’d drift apart a little, Harley would go off on a mission for the Suicide Squad or something, she’d come back and Ivy would be in Arkham, and eventually they’d just sort of get back together.
But this time it felt different.
This time, it felt like the real thing.
“BURRAAAAAAP~”
In the good ways and the bad ways.
Harley had never had any issues being comfortable around Ivy, even before they had started dating. Come to think of it, she’d never had any issues getting comfortable around anybody, dating or not. But it had certainly helped that they’d found a stable hideaway where they could get cozy together in a little place that Ivy liked to call Eden.
“Hey Ivy, think you could hit me with another beer?”
That had its ups and its downs, of course.
“Sure thing, Harl.”
What had brought them together again was Harley getting a particularly nasty beatdown that had required a few weeks to heal. A few broken bones wouldn’t have done in her in too badly, but with both of her legs getting fractures from a fall off of a Gotham City rooftop as well as some pretty substantial knee-damage, it had put her out of commission for a good long while.
It had also provided some much-needed rest and relaxation—with an opportunity to reconcile with her girlfriend.
For a self-styled misanthrope, she had a surprisingly nurturing side so long as it came to certain individuals. Caring for Harley and nursing her back to health had given her roots in ways that nobody else could have given her. When it came to Harley Ivy was, if not happy, at least less begrudging to let down the thorny walls that she’d built to shield herself off from humanity. And that meant mothering her, loving her, and treating her like any other potted plant that she’d taken from the streets.
Harley’s recovery time, as well as the fact that she and Ivy were going quasi-straight meant that there wasn’t much to do but lay around and heal up anyway. She had a manic energy that was hard to bottle, but also an inquisitive mind that required stimulation to keep it going and made her recovery a living hell.
To top it off, she wasn’t going out into Gotham City to bash people’s heads in with a hammer, and was taking an “abstention” from the Squad (due to having not been arrested recently, and therefore not in Waller’s custody, on top of being not fit for active duty), which cut out a large amount of that stimulation—leaving her with whatever sorts of entertainment Ivy had stocked in her latest horticultural hideaway to help pass the time.
Which, given that Ivy had designed it as a place that the two of them could live together was a lot.
But without the exercise of aforementioned Squadding and Skull Bashing, that meant that Harley’s finely-honed gymnast’s body wasn’t getting to burn the insane amounts of calories that it was used to.
Now granted, the two of them weren’t without exercise (once Harley had healed up after a few weeks) but no amount of bedroom shenanigans could make up for fighting Batman, running away from Batman, and then getting shipped off to do black-ops missions for the government.
It was little wonder where Harley’s little white belly had come from—even for someone who could (at her own admission) be something of an airhead, Harley was fully aware that this extra comfort weight had come from laying around, playing video games, watching TikTok, and not being a supervillain.
This is, of course, about the time where that “being human” part comes back into play; and where Ivy isn’t very good at it.
Because while Harley wasn’t happy about it, Ivy had found herself strangely attracted to it.
Any normal person, who hadn’t been an eco-terrorist for most of her adult life and had learned how to cohabitate with other beings who didn’t perform photosynthesis, would have thought to sit down and think about these feelings with some level of self-awareness. To maybe explore them in healthy ways, perhaps with Harley’s input, in order to come to a conclusion that satisfied her newfound urge to…
To…
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