impulselantern

[impulselantern]

itsbxtgirl​:

***

“Part time pitcher, part time art thief. What a life he must live. Do you think he actually is able to steal anything? Or was this the attempt to stop the pitcher life and his skills came in handy?” Steph mused. “You know, one time when Gotham’s power went out I saw two dudes who tried to both steal TVs and they ran right into each other because of how dark it was. Sadly, both televisions were lost. I mean, karma, but what did those poor TVs do to deserve the shattering of death?” She mused as she closed up her belt, taking a step back and watching as Simon poked at the band aid, letting out a hiss. She rolled her eyes in response. 

The comment of his phone being unlocked peaked Steph’s attention, peering over curiously with a delighted, yet evil cackle. “Oh please do. You know he’s going to get his ass chewed out. What’s worse: jail time or Mom’s disappointed glare? Trick question. It’s both at the same time. Which is gonna happen to him when we call his mother.” She was, perhaps, a bit too excited at the prospect. 

/

“I think he’s capable of being an asshole,” Simon said petulantly, more than a little bitter about the growing lump on his head. He snorted at Steph’s retelling of a Gotham crime event, a little surprised that this story didn’t involve evil clowns or guys in question mark suits. “Gotta love Gotham. It’s like if the Purge was real, except every single day is the Purge. And a mean guy in a bat costume kicks you out every time you try to chill there for more than, like, a day.” Simon wasn’t sure if the ‘no metas in Gotham’ rule applied to Lanterns, or if Hal had just pissed Bruce off that much during their Justice League days. Both, probably.

He grinned at Steph’s cackle, turning the phone towards her so she could see the screen. The wallpaper was some cheesy motivational post against a floral background, which didn’t seem to fit the vibes of their thief. He was a multilayered criminal, it seemed. “If his mom’s anything like mine, he’d be begging for the jail time,” he snorted. Tapping the screen, he navigated into the contacts and found Mom listed, a few emojis decorating the contact name. He held it out for Steph to see.

[impulselantern]

mistressofmagic​:

Zatanna’s gaze immediately dropped to his foot that was once again, wedged between her door and the frame. “This shit again? Really?” She should have known he was going to pull another stunt like this when Hassan had informed her it was Simon at the door. All the magic in the world and she couldn’t shake this one lantern. He was more annoying than Hal. And Bruce. Combined.

“The fate of the world is always in the balance — it’s kind of boring, actually. You’d think there would be a more interesting way to say that shit is about to hit the fan, hm?” But as much as she faked disinterest, her fingers were drumming against the knob of the door that she was still holding mostly shut. She wanted there to be a problem. Wanted to be needed. Wanted to do something. She knew that she was, and that the distance from the front line wasn’t so much for her safety as it was for her child’s, but she was restless.

“You’re an asshole,” she added, but she opened the door anyway. “I’ll give you thirty minutes, make it count.”

/

“This shit,” Simon said, trying in vain to shove the door the rest of the way open, “is what I’m best at.” In all honesty, there weren’t a lot of people he could go to with this. Jessica was always an option, of course, but... he hadn’t broken the whole ‘slime aliens that also might be shapeshifters and are maybe planning a widescale invasion’ news to her yet. Hal and John were pretty much always off world these days, and he’d rather die before calling up Guy. Kyle had his own shit going on, and the rest of the superhero world never seemed to take Simon as seriously as they did other heroes. Or they were Batman, and they had a very specific ‘No Lanterns Ever’ rule that he was still working at chipping away at. One of the two.

Clicking his tongue, he shrugged a shoulder. “I mean, sometimes it’s the fate of the universe. Maybe the fate of the multiverse, once or twice. One time it was honestly just the fate of Detroit, but I handled that one on my own.” He was taking it as a win that she hadn’t shoved the door on him or magicked him into a toad or whatever just yet, though he knew he wasn’t exactly in the clear. She was only hearing him out thanks to mild interest, he suspected. Nothing more or less.

But she was hearing him out all the same, and that had to count as some kind of victory. Take your wins where you can find them, his mother always said. He flashed her a grin. “I’m your favorite asshole,” he insisted, slipping in before she could change her mind and slam the door. “Is Hassan here? Does he still hate me?”

[impulselantern]

@mistressofmagic

(✉️ ➡️ top hat): do you know if the justice league is taking applications? (✉️ ➡️ top hat): none of the lanterns will lend me $5. i want to join a superhero team with people who have money. (✉️ ➡️ top hat): if the justice league is closed, do you think you can talk tony into making me an avenger? (✉️ ➡️ top hat): or, alternatively, do you want to start a superhero team with me? we can do our own thing. we can call it green magic or something. first order of business: can i borrow $5?

[impulselantern]

kxtepryde​:

@impulselantern sent 25﹕ an  urgent  text

[📱to Simon!! ] hey! [📱to Simon!! ] so don’t panic [📱to Simon!! ] bring a towel [📱to Simon!! ] I’m stuck??? which is a really weird feeling, I’m not usually stuck places, but this is a place very good at making me stuck, apparently [📱to Simon!! ] this might be a problem, we have a problem, I most definitely have a probl– [DELETED] [📱to Simon!! ] anyway [📱to Simon!! ] I’m cool, this is fine, totally one-hundred percent calm right now [📱to Simon!! ] but does your fancy ring make jackhammers?

(✉️ ➡️ ghouligan): ah, ‘don’t panic,’ the least panic-inducing words in all the english language! (✉️ ➡️ ghouligan): was that a hitchhiker’s guide to the galaxy reference? (✉️ ➡️ ghouligan): you’re (✉️ ➡️ ghouligan): you’re stuck? (✉️ ➡️ ghouligan): i thought your whole thing was /not/ getting stuck? (✉️ ➡️ ghouligan): i can make you a jackhammer. i can definitely make you a jackhammer. where are you?

[impulselantern]

sharcarters​:

/

“Uh, I’m talking to you. Everything about you is a shade of weird.” And a shade of green, as it turned out. But she figured that was something to drop into a conversation later. He was uncomfortable enough without her pulling any punches. “Um, yeah I doubt that. Heavily. You’ve got crunchy and unreliable written all over your face.” Sharon leaned back in her chair and grinned at Simon, shrugging her shoulders. “I wouldn’t say that to his face. He’d get real embarrassed.” Though this probably qualified for one of the things he’d prefer to be ‘private.’ But she wasn’t explicitly saying he liked it — just that it would make him blush. (She could argue her way out of it.) “You too?” The surprise, this time, was real. She hadn’t been following him around like she would have any of her informants, but she thought that him struggling with a home would have popped up on her radar. “It’s not easy getting sleep when you bring trouble home. Where are you at now?”  

/

“Hurtful. I’m not weird.” It was a blatant lie, of course. Simon had always been a little weird, even before the whole ‘magic space ring’ incident. He’d never fit into any of the boxes anyone wanted to place him in, and he’d never been particularly ashamed about that. He was who he was. That was all there was to it. “Crunch and ---- That’s offensive! I’m reliable. I have a trophy, you know. World’s Best Uncle. They don’t hand those out to just anyone.” Still, he was grinning back at her without thinking. “Would he blush? Maybe I’d like to make him blush.” Not that he’d ever actually do something to risk making Steve uncomfortable because, again, Simon desperately wanted the guy to like him. Getting on Sharon’s good side was probably a good way to ensure a head start there, but that was far from the only reason he was talking to her. He wanted Sharon to like him, too. Enough to be honest with her when he wasn’t honest with much anyone else. “One too many late nights. My sister didn’t want me on her sofa anymore, and I can’t blame her. Kind of put me in a tough spot, though.” He shrugged at the question, shifting a little. “Some people I do work for sometime have a place. I’m crashing there until I figure out something more permanent.” Not a lie, even if it wasn’t the whole truth, either.

[impulselantern]

green lantern #7 (2021)

[impulselantern]

itsbxtgirl​:

[ wound ] my  muse  patches  and  bandages  a  wound  your  muse  has  gotten @impulselantern​

“That dude had a killer aim,” Steph said, dabbing gently at the cut on Simon’s forehead with a cotton ball, one of the pouches in her belt open with all the first aid supplies she had. “Like, where do you think he learned to throw a cell phone like that? Enough to nail you right in the head. That’s literally so funny—also, let us mourn that man’s insurance on this phone. He really was committed to getting away with those stolen art pieces.” She mused, wiping off the rest of the blood before putting a purple bandaid over the cut. “There! Good as new. Head injuries always bleed the worst. Thankfully, you should make it out alive.” A pause then Steph grinned a bit, “hopefully. I make no promises. I’m a vigilante, not a doctor.” 

They had been staking out a potential art burglary, and by that Steph meant that she was actually just talking to the Green Lantern and not watching properly. The guy was already halfway down the street with his bag of expensive art pieces from the museum before they realized and went after him. In his desperation to not be caught, he promptly tugged his own cell phone out of his pocket and chucked it right at them. Steph had to commend the aim, even if she knew Simon would glare at her for just that.

/

This had to be one of the stupidest things that had ever happened. To any superhero, since the beginning of time. In fact, Simon was pretty sure if Hal found about this, he was going to go ahead and take the ring back. “He’s gotta be, like, a baseball pitcher or something,” Simon commented, wincing as Steph dabbed at the cut. He had to physically restrain himself to keep him from swatting at her hand like a little kid. The cut wasn’t bad, and it certainly could’ve been worse, but how he got it? That was just embarrassing. Simon didn’t even really go after art thieves. He was a Green Lantern. He was supposed to be fighting aliens, not assholes with phones to thrown.

Sighing, he leaned away from Steph, reaching up to poke at the band-aid experimentally. Unsurprisingly, it stung, and he let out a little hiss, pulling his phone away. Looking down on the ground, he spotted the discarded phone and picked it up, tapping at the screen. “It’s unlocked,” he commented. “I’m gonna call the guy’s mom. Tell her what he did.”

[impulselantern]

daisyquakes​:

(✉️ ➡️ pickle juice ): why would you ask a question like that (✉️ ➡️ pickle juice ): though you’re right to ask, i don’t wear pajamas (✉️ ➡️ pickle juice ): HOLD ON i need to see if my neighbor can bring one of those over, she’s a sweet old lady who i’m p sure has a crush on robbie (✉️ ➡️ pickle juice ): which is also funny (✉️ ➡️ pickle juice ): tho part of me thinks she might just flirt with him so he’ll bring up the groceries for her and honestly, respect (✉️ ➡️ pickle juice ): but i can get an old timey nightgown. i want this drama

(✉️ ➡️ literally shaking): i ask the tough questions. the hard hitting ones. i’m brave (✉️ ➡️ literally shaking): DO YOU SLEEP NAKED? (✉️ ➡️ literally shaking): YOU CAN’T SHOW UP NAKED (✉️ ➡️ literally shaking): ??? she’s got a crush on your man and you’re trusting her to bring you something to wear?  (✉️ ➡️ literally shaking): she’s gonna put poison in the nightgown. like, it’s gonna absorb into your skin. and you’re gonna die (✉️ ➡️ literally shaking): and then she’s gonna move in on your boyfriend (✉️ ➡️ literally shaking): don’t say i didn’t warn you

[impulselantern]

daisyquakes​:

/

“Don’t be a monster.” Having Simon over was like having Fitz over, he went through everything and touched everything because he wanted to know what she was keeping in the cupboards and if it was different from his arrangement — and boundaries had never been something he was good at. And this was just as familiar, even if it came with a different face. “You could also ask before grabbing my shit, just because it’s here and you’re in my home doesn’t mean you get to do whatever. It’s rude!”

Though it was like leaving a tray of cookies on the table and telling her guests they could look but not touch. It wasn’t exactly fair. “He loves my cooking by the way.” Debatable. He loved her, but that wasn’t the same, was it? Lying as he ate burnt chicken for the third time that week because he didn’t want to upset her. (Even though she was wrinkling her nose at the blackened parts herself and wondering where she went wrong.) “I don’t want to — shut up.” She waved her hands in the air and then shoved him out towards the front room, away from the pastries. “No. Poetry has too many rules. My bargain is stop mooching.”

/

“A monster is someone who leaves food sitting out with no intention of sharing it,” Simon argued, pointing a finger at her for good measure. His mother would kill him for the implication. Hell, his mother would kill him for most of this interaction, even if he followed Daisy’s instruction of just asking for food. Simon’s mother was a strong believer that you didn’t go into someone else’s home and ask for anything --- you waited for it to be offered to you. But Simon got the feeling if he waited for Daisy to offer him stuff, he’d probably be waiting all day.

Blinking, Simon raised a brow. “I might love your cooking, too, if you’d let me try it,” he pointed out, dropping his hand and crossing his arms over his chest instead. It made him look more like a child pouting than a man deserving of food. He hoped it might make her take pity on him anyway. “You could do slam poetry! If there’s rules there, I don’t know them, so it’s not like I could call you out. And I’m not mooching! I’m a guest. Guests usually get treated better than this.”

[impulselantern]

anxietylanterncruz​:

“  just breathe. breathe with me.  ”

@impulselantern

Jessica followed Simon’s lead, breathing in and out as he instructed, matching the pattern he was creating with his own breathing and voice. In and out. As her breathing eventually calmed, Jessica waved her hands in the air and then started up again. “I messaged him back. Everyone kept telling me to just — do something. So, I did. I messaged him. And… I think I have a date.” Jessica didn’t know if she sounded excited or horrified at the idea — but she was surely somewhere in-between. “What do people do on dates, Simon? I haven’t been on a date since high school.”

/

Simon was getting better at easing Jessica’s anxiety, a fact he was damn proud of. He learned how to walk her through breathing exercises, learned how to help her overcome moments before they became anxiety attacks. Typically, said moments were more action-packed, but... it wasn’t rare for them to get one like this. A mid-conversation hyperventilation. Rhyme totally unintended. “You messaged him back,” he repeated, flashing her a grin. “That’s a big step all its own, you know? And a date is an even bigger one. It’s a good thing, Jess. It’s growth.” He squeezed her shoulders before dropping his hands from where they’d been resting upon them, clicking his tongue. “Depends on the date. What do you like to do? A movie’s not a bad idea for a first date. If you hate talking to them, you can just watch the movie. Dinner’s a classic, too.” Hiking was another favorite, though he’d never recommend that to Jessica. Not with her past in mind. “I could tag along! I could wear a fake mustache, hide behind a menu a table over from you.”

[impulselantern]

libertycaps​:

that’s not how god works. || @impulselantern

Protests were nothing new. Steve had to admit that he was somewhat surprised when he arrived in this century only to realise people still took time out of their day to paint messages on plasterboard, stick them to a wooden plank and scream their lungs out in hopes of being heard. The passion that was there when he was a child still rippled through New York, the methods were much the same, and while some might see that as as negative (nothing had changed substantially enough to negate the need for this kind of protest) Steve saw it only as a positive.

Most days.

Today, Steve was standing in front of a protest against something – the message had got lost along the way on account of two separate religious groups choosing instead to argue over their conflicting beliefs. “Ma used to say he worked in mysterious ways,” Steve muttered, “but I think I agree with you.” There was every chance of this going sideways (violence seemed more and more likely to break out the more years that passed) and Steve nudged Simon gently in the side. “You think we should get involved?” he asked. Was that how God worked? Putting the right people in the right place at the right time? Steve wasn’t sure, but it sounded about right.

/

People had been telling Simon what God was all his life. His parents first, in gentle tones and quiet reassurances, told him about love. (Later, this would turn to stories of disappointment instead, because Simon reacted better to it. He understood fear better, sometimes, felt grief easier than love.) His imam preached on the importance of obedience, Sira told him Allah just wanted him to be happy. And then, there were the people outside his community. The ones who pulled at Sira’s hijab and spray painted hatred on the garage door. The way his people celebrated Allah was wrong, they said. As if you could love something wrong.

It was the same argument happening in the street now. A man who reminded Simon a little too much of his father, fists clenched at his side as a group of white men hurled familiar insults in his direction. Steve was tense beside him, but Simon was a rubber band pulled taut to the breaking point, a rope fraying in the middle. “Not like this,” he replied. “Allah isn’t --- It isn’t supposed to be like this.” He pushed his hair out of his face, catching sight of the tattoo on his arm that his father would point to to call him a hypocrite for speaking here at all. “I think if we don’t get involved, things are going to get bad. They always do.” When it was people like Simon involved, when it was Muslims surrounded by one too many white men, it only ever ended one way. “You wanna give ‘em a Cap speech, or you want me to put ‘em in a Lantern cage?”

[impulselantern]

kxtepryde​:

Kitty wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting. There was a pause that she filled with a million options before he finally finished his sentence: help with some galactic threat, a hug (he’d never ask but she sort of wanted to give him one), something fun and distracting like bowling or a trip to space, advice. When he finally said ‘coffee,’ it felt a little anti-climactic. He looked like he needed a bit more than coffee, but if coffee was what he was going to ask for, she was going to get him the best coffee NYC had to offer.

“Sure, I know a dive.” Or Genosha? Maybe Simon would like to visit Genosha. Kitty adored New York; she’d found home not too far from it at the age of thirteen, and grew to love it for all its gritty charm. It wasn’t Chicago, but it was home nonetheless. She tried not to think about how they’d have to cross the water to get to Genosha. That there were international borders, and rules, and oceans between. 

“Or I could show you a place in Genosha?” She asked, anyway. Because ferries be damned, she was going to share her new home with her friends.

/

She looked a little disappointed, like maybe she’d expected him to say more. Maybe he should have. Kitty was his friend. More than that, she was a friend who was both a hero and not a Lantern, meaning she could understand his issues without being too close to them. She’d been with the X-Men since she was a kid, doing the same thing he was doing now. She must have found a better way to balance it than he had by now, must have found some way to have a life alongside it. But the same thing keeping him off Sira’s couch kept his mouth shut now --- pride. Simon’s was an especially stubborn brand.

“I like a good dive,” he agreed with a grin, only mostly fake. Even if it wasn’t exactly what he needed, coffee with Kitty would help. It might not fix him, so to speak, but it’d keep his mind off his bullshit for an hour or so, and sometimes that was the best solution he could come up with. 

He raised a brow when she spoke again, offering up Genosha as a coffee spot. “Am I... allowed on Genosha?” He was a little unclear on the rules and had never really looked into them much for fear that they’d tell him he wasn’t welcome. But it was Kitty’s home, and she was offering. How could he ever say no to that? “I mean, yeah. Yeah, I’ll go to Genosha. They got good coffee on Genosha?”

[impulselantern]

deoalexdanvers​:

.

“Sorry but I need to follow procedure” maybe if she hadn’t just taken over as director she might have been more lenient with protocol and release the alien into the Green Lantern’s custody, it would save her paperwork, but as it were now she’d stick to protocol. “That might be but right now he’s on earth which makes it my jurisdiction” and she needed to have the alien processed before she could even think about releasing him to the Lantern. 

The Lantern didn’t seem too thrilled at coming with her to the DEO and Alex couldn’t blame him, she knew a lot of people would have the same reaction too. “I’m sure, but how’s this, I’ll try to make the process as quick as possible while still following protocol” at least that way he wouldn’t have to stay long at the DEO and Alex could possibly go home earlier to her daughter.

/

“But it’s so much more fun to not follow procedure,” Simon protested, a last ditch effort he knew wasn’t going to fly. The DEO was kind of famous for sticking to their protocol, something Simon had been briefed on by the other Lanterns. Hal called them stick-in-the-muds. John called them respectable men and women trying their best. Guy called them dillweeds, but Guy said that about most people and Simon rarely took him seriously. “He doesn’t have to be on Earth. The Lanterns have a Sector House just outside of orbit.” Which Simon knew very well, considering he’d been crashing there for months now. “I could fly him up there, say I caught him on the moon. Nobody needs to know.”

It was a lost cause, he knew. He could tell by the look in her eye that she wasn’t going to pass the alien over to his custody until after she’d finished her own paperwork, which would make Simon’s processing all the harder. The Guardians were really breathing down his neck these days, and he was hoping he could get some lenience by bringing this guy in, but... Well. If he brought him in late, it wasn’t going to get him anything but another lecture. “You and me both know that there’s nothing quick about protocol,” he sighed.

[impulselantern]

I’m not really interested in picking a side. I just call it like I see it.

[impulselantern]

just tell me what you need. // @kxtepryde​

Simon was in over his head. Actually, that was being a little vague, because Simon had been in over his head. He’d been in over his head since a magic ring from space broke him out of Guantanamo Bay and signed him up to work alongside other people with magic rings from space, and he’d always known that, but... Well. Knowing it and being reminded of it were pretty different things, weren’t they?

There was a potential alien invasion going on, with slime people around every corner, and he was pretty sure he was the only one doing anything about it. And he was still sleeping on a mattress in space, because Sira wasn’t that mad anymore but his pride wouldn’t let him ask for her sofa back anyway. And he was pretty much broke. And --- And everything.

Sighing, he glanced up at Kitty. “I need...” A job. A place to live. An army to help me fight a bunch of slime weirdos. A therapist, probably. “A cup of coffee. You in?”

[impulselantern]

everyone gets theirs wings clipped at some point. // @mistressofmagic​

“No, no, no, no, no,” Simon protested, sticking his foot in the door before Zatanna could slam it shut. He was reasonably certain this wouldn’t stop her, even if she had to break a toe or two to do it, but he was clinging to the idea that it might slow her down, just a little. Because he really, really couldn’t afford to ‘have his wings clipped,’ as she put it.

Shit with the slime people was getting... not good. More and more of them seemed to be turning up, both in slime form and in disguise. It was beginning to look a little bit like something that rhymed with schimvasion, and Simon was pretty sure if that happened, the Corps were going to find some way to blame him. Simon didn’t need that right now. He didn’t need that ever, but especially not right now.

And Zee could help. He knew she could.

“Look, Zee, I just need --- like, an hour of your time. Maybe two! Not to be dramatic, but the fate of the world literally depends on it!”

[impulselantern]

stxrsfires​:

[ …. ] ( 📩 → Simon 🪴 ): I was told not to reveal my sources.  ( 📩 → Simon 🪴 ): You do not! My sources are very tip top secret!  ( 📩 → Simon 🪴 ): How do you know it will not? It could happen!  [ …. ]  ( 📩 → Simon 🪴 ): I do not believe that. ( 📩 → Simon 🪴 ): It is healthy for your self esteem, yes! But I have been told not to, so I will not. ( 📩 → Simon 🪴 ): Plus, the most handsome man is Nightwing. I am pleased to inform you.

(✉️ ➡️ starry night): it was jessica, wasn’t it. (✉️ ➡️ starry night): it was definitely jessica (✉️ ➡️ starry night): people tell me i’m handsome all the time and my head has literally never once exploded! [...] (✉️ ➡️ starry night): come on. do you always do everything you’re told? :/ (✉️ ➡️ starry night): what is the DEAL with nightwing why does EVERYONE think he’s so cool? he’s just some guy!