4 Supernatural drabbles.
1 crossover picspam of Community and Once Upon a Time.
1 ficlet (crossover of Batman, Big Bang Theory, Community, and Once Upon a Time.)
For two challenges at tvrealm.
Entirely the product of four hours' work. And, for a change, I'm damn proud of it :3
Cassie. Air. Floaty, breezy, light, hurricane.
Effy. Water. Moves easily, still waters run deep, when cold becomes ice.
Jal. Fire. Magnitude always changing from small ember to roaring flames and vice versa.
Tony. Earth. Hard, impenetrable, so rigid it cracks entirely, turns to slush when it meets water ;)
Deliberately done to underline that no one character is only one of these elements, just predominantly so. E.g. Cassie is all sunshine and campfires, Jal is fluid, cool, Effy is smoking, Tony is capable of exhibiting his inner firecracker or the fact that he can be colder than ice.
warning: mildly adult themes.
Castiel was born in a breath. His first memory lingers on his skin, the feel of a new world enveloping him. The fumes of Hell had rattled through his chest, going in and expelling the way he supposed humans breathed. The Winchester had not been breathing, hanging limply from Castiel's grip. The angel's effort is seared into Dean Winchester's skin, reminding him of a rescue he doesn't remember as well as the torture of the pit. Breath is the first thing that routs through Dean's lungs, the first realisation that he is surrounded by the old world. He's buried in the folds of it, but the heave and fall of his chest contradicts the insistent, hammering notion in his head that something is somehow wrong. Castiel has done his task, and so he doesn't wait to see what becomes of the sacrifice he saved. He is gone, lighter than the whisper of Dean's first words.
Dean's split lip matches the blood on Castiel's knuckles. It doesn't faze him, he was made a soldier first. Dean's fury pouring off him in waves, running right through an angelic lightning rod, because grim purpose grounds Castiel. It leeches off excess power that could return Dean Winchester to dust, it reminds him to be righteous, not angry. Dean has no such qualms, not even now, hours later. The dirt is mixed with the scraped knuckles of Castiel's bony hand, and Dean has to thrust it under gushing hot water. It's a habit he picked up with a much younger Sam, a habit he never applied to himself. Habit is very feebly scrabbling at the back of his mind, as under his gaze, blood resurfaces on the cut across Castiel's water-warmed hands. Neither had known angels could bleed so quietly, but it's salty and metallic, unpleasant and familiar on Dean's tongue when he presses the hurt fist to his mouth.
Castiel burns from the holy oil, which never touches him. The knowing sticks to his skin like smeared ash. Dean and his brother are gone in the same gust of wind that smashes open the door. He is not apologetic. He has willingly given up his world for these human trappings, because his family has mattered less to Dean than Dean's own. He does not pity himself because he has always known the decision will remain unrequited. He had drawn his lines in the sand, but then grass grew in the desert. The lines remained, snaking through the ground, and the fire followed the lines, igniting the brush and licking the sky. Fires are lit not to bring the trees to the ground; fires are better than swords, to trap, to hold, and ensure the boundary is never crossed, never forgotten. Castiel can extinguish Dean Winchester with a press of a finger against his lips, but he lets Dean Winchester punish him with holy oil.
Dean's body thrills like a violin string when touched; those green eyes are wary even now, watching transfixed at how the brand on his arm disappears under Castiel's splayed fingers. His cupid's bow mouth disappears under Castiel's lips. He had not thought an ice sculpture of an angel would do anything but freeze skin to ice, but the heat of the invisible heart rises through the layers. Dean forgets how to kick his legs, struggle to the surface, and lets the layers melt into waves and crash over him. He can't swim against the tide, and when he falls, he pulls Castiel down with him. It's absurd how fast the trench coat melts off those shoulders, the white shirt snapping open, slipping off of its own accord when Dean's teeth can make that back arch. Castiel's breath in his ear is a moan as Dean's fingers graze lower. Castiel drowns.
-The whole casting began with that cap of Abed in a Batman costume on the balcony, which I immediately wanted to use. It was pure luck that the first cap I found of a person looking upwards was Regina. The other caps pretty much fell into place of their own accord after that. And the best part is that their expressions match ♥
-The 'love child' was more difficult, but there's always my favourite Leonard quote about Sheldon: "The guy's one lab accident away from becoming a super-villain," which ties in perfectly with evil!Abed, and et voila. Ostensibly cracky, but with undertones of heartbreak and drama. Which is even more cracky, by definition.
-If Abed was going to be Batman, then Regina needed to be Selina, Talia, or Zatanna. I went with Talia al Ghul, because of out of all of Bruce's long-term love interests, she was the only one who would have ended up on a Fortune 300 list, and while Zatanna deeply loved her late father, Talia was the only one controlled by a parent. Regina as Talia has the unexpected benefit of automatically making Sheldon Damian Wayne, and I can't imagine which other Robin would suit him more: precocious, super-skilled, loyal, extremely obnoxious, and makes you want to throttle him.
-Extending the DCU casting to the rest of the cast works almost perfectly: Jeff is Oliver Queen/Green Archer like a bullet, Britta is Dinah Drake/Black Canary right down to the outfit, Troy is Lucius Fox, and Pierce could be a mean Alfred or a slightly less megalomaniacal Ra's al Ghul. Idk about Annie and Shirley; I thought Annie age-wise would be perfect to be Babs, but she didn't have Annie's petty streak.
Warning: this fic propagates the Batman AU part more than Big Bang Theory, Community, or Once Upon a Time.
"Who is Batman?" Poison Ivy's voice is calm, level, and dangerous. Her fumes insidiously wrap around the trapped Regina Mills, rising into her brain and forcing her to tell the truth.
"Bruce Wayne," is the reply.
Regina twists the ring off her finger, and it crackles with blue lightning. It's the last magic thing she has, and she can see the likeness of the only other man she has loved in it. She has always known that knowing the man beneath Batman's mask means she's offered herself up as a target. A bargaining chip. She suppresses the smirk. Let them try.
She stares at his likeness, so small and feeble in her palm, and concentrates all her fading love and growing power on it.
"Bruce Wayne." She doesn't even struggle, doesn't attempt to stop herself. Poison Ivy quirks a sceptical eyebrow, and quietly increases the potency of the fumes. Regina isn't done yet. "Jim Gordon. Harvey Dent, before the accident. Slam Bradley. Abed Nadir."
It's all Poison Ivy can do to not snap her vines around Regina's neck. "Tell me the truth," she says, despite knowing the inherent oxymoron. "How the hell can they be—" Certainly not Slam Bradley, she thinks. All he does is act like a noir film detective, solving cases for beautiful distressed damsels, and still goes home at the end of the day with his very male sidekick. Overcompensation if there ever was one. Maybe that was why the "Dark Knight" operated alone… maybe that's why Boy Wonder wore those shorts…
"Don't you see?" says Regina, raising her head to look Poison Ivy in the eye. The triumphant curl of her lip is sneering. "Batman isn't a name. It's a cowl. A mantle. One that good, brave men take up when there's a need for it."
"And what would you know of good, brave men?" Posion Ivy snorts. "Poisoning children with apple crumble and holding onto grudge matches against brainwashed tomboys for centuries doesn't sound like things that would endear you to… good men." The paleness of Regina's face means the barb hit home.
"It was apple turnover, actually, and I love brave and honest men. They're so easily manipulated."
"Who is Batman now?" demands Poison Ivy, over her rapidly fraying patience.
"I gave up on Batman years ago. He was too easy to manipulate, he was a victim of what he thought was love, and he didn't fight back. He bored me." She looks into Poison Ivy's murky green eyes, and says clearly: "I don't know."
The vines lashing her to her cushy office chair crumble to dust. She'll get someone to vacuum that off the carpet tomorrow.
She takes the ring off, tossing it into the bedside drawer. She's taken to carrying it with her ever since she enchanted it. Regina isn't sentimental; she would happily throw the ring down a well if it would bring her what she wanted even more than the man who put it on her finger. She doesn't have Abed, but she can very use him to protect herself. It's what he would have wanted. He was very practical that way.
The ring lies locked in a drawer in the dark. It's old, but the simple gold remains polished. It's certainly in better shape than the single other object in the drawer. The blue has faded, the threads are straggling out. The blue hat looks like the kind men who drive little trains wear, and yet it's too big for a child.
-The Poison Ivy scene is transplanted directly from a confrontation between Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn versus Catwoman in Gotham City Sirens (issue 02 Girls Talk) where Ivy uses her toxin to force the truth of Batman's identity out of Catwoman. Years before, anticipating this move, Talia al-Ghul had taught her a mind trick which would prevent certain truths to be so buried she could never reveal them. Regina's listing of names is identical to what Catwoman had said.
-The hat is, of course, this hat. It's also an oblique reference to the time Sheldon says that there's an infinite number of parallel universes in which there are an infinite number of parallel Sheldons.