functionally suicidal character saying “I would die for you” to their significant other and its like. I get the sentiment, honey, but if a hot dog vendor told me he’d sell hot dogs for me, I wouldn’t feel very moved now would I
A JL guide to Green Lanterns: warnings and advice.
Or, me pushing forward my "Green Lanterns are Eldritch Horrors" agenda. I saw someone make this with the concept of Lady Gotham and Cryptid Batfam, so I'm stealing the idea.
The ring is not something they wear, it's a part of them, they are one thing. They can take it off if necessary, but only on their terms. Don't, for any reason, try to take it away from them with violence. No one can guarantee your survival.
When around them, pay attention and have quick reflexes. Their toughts may turn into physical constructs, and in a direct collision your bones will lose. On the same note, it's better to avoid sleeping lanterns. Some things that come out of their dreams will give you nightmares of your own.
If they ask you to enter your city, they have a good reason for it. Let them in and do their job, they don't want to be there just as much as you. They usually don't stay long anyway, here or any place on Earth.
They will forget and confuse things and events. Be patient with them, remind them what year, month and day it is. Keeping a "what you may have missed while in space" list may help avoid embarassing conversations.
No, their eyes weren't green before. Don't say anything, eventually it'll pass.
They may start making sounds impossible for the human vocal apparatus. Don't panick, it's probably an alien language. The ring creates temporary new organs so they can do that. Kindly remind them what species you are and proceed with the conversation.
If a lantern brings you a gift, always double check with other senior League members of it's safety. Lanterns may think it's a cute gift but remember, what it's cute for them is probably deadly for you.
Will is apart of the emotional spectrum. Senior lanterns can perceive your emotional state. Whatever you're feeling, they know it, it's useless to lie.
If you upset them, their physical form may falter. Do not touch them, pure will is a kind of unstable energy and it will hurt you. Also, objects may start flying.
Genetic Analyzers and others similar devices won't recognize their DNA. The fusion with the ring has permanently changed their biology. They are not totally human anymore, but it would be sensible to avoid reminding them of that.
Yes, their blood is green. Yes, they can heal themselves the majority of times, but if any of them insist that they can replace any vital organ with a construct, don't let them. They are already more will than flesh, remind them that we have, in fact, a medbay!
Every once in a while jog their memory on the fact that sleeping, eating and drinking are things that they still need to do on the regular. For now.
For telepaths and other similarly powered metas: Don't try and enter their minds. Any interference with their willpower will be noted and won't be taken kindly. They have a very high resistance to mental control and it would be cautious to remember, they have some of their own. Your memories are not safe.
Don't drink from their glasses unless you're certain that the liquid is drinkable for humans. Their bodies can handle space alcohol and drinks, yours probably cannot. Same goes for food.
In case of a mind-controlled-super, please remind them that the kryptonite is not a toy, not even in small doses. Creating a baseball bat made of kryptonite is overkill.
If you're invited to spar with a lantern, remember, they were trained by aliens far physically stronger than them. They know how to hurt you without using the ring.
The no kill rule is an illusion. They are the ring and the ring is them, they decide which rules to abide to. If they truly want to, each and every one of our resident lanterns can end your life. Never forget it.
Kyle wouldn't have to keep calling people after sleeping with Hal if Hal would stop making decisions
(ref)
He's pressing a cold beer can to his forehead when John walks into the room. Or, the setting is more like this:
Hal's sitting on his ratty couch that he 'rescued' from the curbside, disinfected with his ring and called it a day. He has in one hand an unopened can of the cheapest beer the shop down the street offers, and he's methodically pressing it all over his forehead. Against his temples. Almost over his eyes. Rotating it so that when a spot gets a little warm, there's always a different cold spot he can rub against his skin.
And he looks miserable. He looks the textbook definition of miserable.
His hair is a little greasy, the roots flat with sweat. He's a little pale. There are dark circles under his eyes. As well as red hickeys like suction cup marks that start under his jawline and disappear down the neckline of his white t-shirt.
John finds him like this, sitting on the couch, warming up the last cold beer with body heat, when he walks into Hal's flat with the only key Hal has. He doesn't ask how Hal himself got in. He doesn't need to know.
"Fought with Carol again?" he asks without really caring because those two are always either fucking or fighting. Or both.
Hal groans. John nods as if he understands his pain. He doesn't.
He's stepping into the tiniest kitchen (that also tries to be a laundry room) when Hal speaks, voice carrying the severity of his affirmation:
"Fucked Kyle."
The tote bag John's carrying slips off his shoulder as he gives a sharp turn.
"I think I didn't hear y—"
"I fucked Kyle!" Hal snaps, groaning immediately after, and throws himself back onto the couch, beer can still pressed to his forehead. "I fucked Kyle! And he, he... he looked at me with this, this look when we were done. Like he was starstrucked. He looked so happy, and pretty, and I—"
John sets his tote bag down by the tv table before pinching the bridge of his nose.
"You know what," John breathes out with so much force, even Hal can tell he's frustrated, "I don't want to solve your problems for you. Again."
Hal makes some sort of complaining noise, not quite a whine, sliding down the couch until his ass is half off of it. "I shouldn't have done that."
Picking up his tote bag, John turns back to the kitchen. He needs to put the single carton of milk he brought in the fridge before it goes back. And the apples for Hal. Because Hal does not eat enough fruits.
"You're both grown consenting adults and if you two wanted to do it, no one, no one at all, could've stopped you," he says, opening the fridge door with a bit more force than necessary. It's painfully empty. "But yes, sleeping with Kyle does complicate things and—Hal?"
Hal covers his face with both hands, the beer can now wetting the stained fabric of the couch by his side. "Yeah?"
"Your phone's in the fridge." John takes a moment to remind himself Hal is his very good friend and 'phone in fridge' is not good enough motive to get away with murder. "Why?"
"Ah, that's where it went," standing up quickly, Hal only sways a little, the darkening bruise on his forehead making John narrow his eyes.
It's a big bruise.
He left Kyle's place through the window. In a hurry, most likely.
Did he—did he slam his head on the window on the way out—
Hal places a hand on John's shoulder as he leans down to grab his phone from the fridge. He grimaces when the screen lights up again and it starts vibrating like a personal intimate toy going haywire.
"Why is," licking his lips, Hal leans against the wall opposite the fridge, staring at his screen, "why's Kyle sending me so many messages?"
John shoves the milk carton into the fridge without any delicacy.
"Gee," he says, thinking himself out of murder, "I wonder why."
With his usual impeccable timing, Kyle flies in through Hal's open window.
"Hal!" He says, and Hal jumps, scrambling to shove his phone away like it's illegal contraband. "Oh, thank god, you're not a zombie."
Hal's phone slips through his fingers. He watches with detached acceptance as it plummets to the ground, already resigned to it's inevitable fate. A green hand snatches it out of the air one second before it crashes. Get it together, Hal, John's expression says as the construct drops it in his hand.
"Wait," Hal says, looking at Kyle, "why would I be a zombie?"
"Roy said-"
"You told Roy?!"
"You left out the window!" Kyle's mask peels away with the rest of his costume, revealing his irate eyes and Flash-patterned boxers.
"Dear god," John says.
"What did you want me to do!" Kyle throws his arms wide in exasperation. The hickeys at the side of his neck look more like a frag bomb. Bitemarks dot his chest and thighs, and among the mess of hickeys there's a line of dark bruises stretching over his throat with the faint suggestion of fingerprints. "Should I have called Oliver? Guy? Or is this what you wanted? Because of course I have nothing better to do than chase after you! Of course! You don't answer my calls, you don't reply to my texts, you - you broke my window!"
Kyle makes an inarticulate, angry sound, and then pauses on his irate gesturing to suck down air. His face is flushed. His eyes are green in the dim light of Hal's kitchen. He's panting, his upper lip slick with sweat, animated and expressive. Hal's cock twitches in his pants.
"His phone was in the fridge," John offers.
"Why?" Kyle's glare cuts through Hal like a knife, or maybe that's the sensation of all his blood rushing south, again.
"I don't know," Hal says, desperately trying to keep his boner down.
"Did Hal try to maul you?" John asks, still staring at Kyle. Kyle blinks. He looks at John like he's finally seeing him for the first time.
"John? Why are you here?"
"I have groceries." John drops the empty bag on the floor and opens Hal's abandoned can of beer.
"For Hal?" Kyle shakes his head like he's trying to shake away his errant thoughts. "Whatever. That's not the point." And then his focus is back on Hal, and fuck, he looks so, so pretty. "You."
"Me." Hal's eyes flick to the door, and the window, subconsciously making an escape route. Kyle cuts him off. His hands land on both sides of the counter beside him, caging him in. He's so close, so warm, and he still smells like Hal, the remnants of his aftershave mingling with Kyle's cologne.
"Why did you leave?" Kyle asks, softer. His eyes are relentless, flicking over Hal's face like he can find an answer there. He doesn't even seem to notice his close they are, how he just carelessly pushed into Hal's space, how Hal just let him. "Did I - is there something wrong? You can just talk to me instead of-"
Hal kisses him. Kyle makes a muffled noise of protest and tries to pull away for exactly two and a half seconds before melting into it, letting Hal pull him closer.
"For fucks sake, you two," John says, resisting the urge to throw one of the apples at them. He tells himself that he's not Hal's keeper, or Kyle's, for that matter. And he's not going to solve their problems for them. If they're not going to talk it out like mature adults, it's fine. John doesn't care. He'll just leave Hal and Kyle alone with Hal's awful taste in beer, and when they come crying to him he'll just say I told you so without getting personally invested.
Kyle bites Hal's lip. He rocks up like he's trying to physically flatten Hal against the counter, grabbing almost angrily at his clothes. Hal makes a noise John had never heard him make before and squeezes Kyle's ass.
Yup. John is just going to leave. Any second now.
"Hey," Kyle finally gasps, jerking away. "Stop that!" He tilts his jaw back when Hal surges forward again like a dog determine to shove their nose in your crotch. "Stop trying to distract me!" His eyes flick over to John, frantic and wild. This isn't the first time John's seen Kyle when he's turned on, but it still makes his stomach lurch. "John, tell him to stop."
John sighs inwardly. He should've left when he had the chance.
He doesn't want to get involved in this, thing is. But John's aware that it's too late. He lingered for too long. Damn it, this one's on him.
Setting the now empty beer can down on the ratty tv table, John crosses his arms over his chest, staring out the window for a second. Both Kyle and Hal look like they lost a fight with a tentacle monster that also had teeth and an affinity to squeeze and mark its rivals with the suction cups. They also look like they're one second away from fucking each other senseless. Again.
He's seen Kyle while turned on, sure. And now he's seeing Hal with the determined look of a man on a mission, eyes darkening by the second, expression shifting into one of pure lust and John thinks he gets Carol now, he thinks he understands why she keeps coming back for more.
He blinks and they're both staring at him now. Focus, John. Focus.
"I don't think he wants to stop," he says, not listening to his better judgement while also trying to ignore his cock twitching in his pants. Nope. Not doing that. Definitely not doing that.
Hal nods. His hands are on Kyle's hips and now they're sliding under the waistband of the Flash patterned boxers. "I don't think I want to stop."
"John!" Kyle whines, disappointed, but quickly turns back to slap one of Hal's tits. Erm. Pecs. "Stop that! We need to talk!"
Hal smiles. It's a slow, charming thing, spreading across his lips until they’re just so gently curved, the left corner slightly more raised and showing a dimple there. John's far from the action but even he is a little affected. He doesn't want to think how devastating that smile is up close.
"We are talking, aren't we?" And Kyle shudders as Hal's hands slip further down, fully inside his underwear, fingers spreading over the round flesh of Kyle's asscheeks, very obviously squeezing. "We’re here now. Doesn't that matter?"
"I," Kyle whines again, but this time is less high pitched and more breathy. Okay. Okay, John thinks he should really get going now. This is getting a bit too much. He's not a voyeur. He is not. "Hal, I..."
It's a second. All that it takes is a second.
Hal's smile breaks just as easily as it showed on his face, and his eyes widen. Not with desire, no, but with panic. Both Kyle and John tense, because Hal panicking is never a good thing, and that's when John's common sense starts kicking in again because Hal does have a really big bruise on his forehead from slamming his head against a wall and that surely qualifies as a head injury and—
Hal pushes Kyle off of him just in time to whip around and puke all over the kitchen sink.
John steps closer. "We need to take him to the ER."
Kyle blinks, obviously confused and reeling from being about to fuck one second, watching Hal throw up the next. "What's. What's happening."
John sighs, rubbing Hal's back to somewhat soothe him. "Concussion, most likely. He hit his head pretty hard against your wall while trying to escape out the window."
Hal slumps against the counter. He lifts a hand to hold his head somewhat, groaning miserably. Kyle blinks. And blinks again.
"Oh," he says, getting a little pale, "that explains the crack and denting in the wall."
janainaart
ellievsbear
izzy806
vaporwave
