#hal jordan angst

[messenger-of-babel]

Shooting Stars

Summary: As a fighter pilot, you're Hal's favourite shooting star. Even if that means one day you'll fall out of the sky. (Hal Jordan x reader)

Word Count: 2.2K

Notes: I rushed this one a little bit again since I'm falling a bit behind, but I hope you enjoy! I love writing for Hal I'm glad he came back on the rotation. Work is piling up but I persevere. Much Love~! xx

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Hal Jordan had become the Green Lantern, the protector of Earth, the first human lantern. He had defended the sector with his life, and as a result was invited to join the Justice League. He got so used to his life behind the mask, that some nights he wondered if maybe he got too used to being the Green Lantern. The green was covering his skin more than his jacket did, his mask resting on his nose more than his sunglasses. Yet every time he had those doubts creep in, the soft tracing of your fingers across his cheek snapped him out of it.

It didn't matter if he came home in his suit or tracking blood onto your doorstep (okay, maybe you did mind that bit), you just welcome him with open arms and a soft look. When you looked at him like that, he knew. He wasn't Green Lantern in your eyes, he was just Hal Jordan. The gaze that the public, the Justice League, and even Barry failed to see sometimes. He could come home, melt into your arms and let the day's struggle nestle somewhere in the back of his mind to process later. He appreciated you more than you could ever realise, like a breath of fresh air into his life.

Some days, like this night, he came home to an empty house. With a sigh he crawls through the apartment window, flicks the lights on and begins to undress. His body is covered in an array of bruises that map across his skin like a purple map, crawling up his neck and a particularly nasty one resting on his temple. He triggers his headache with a wince when he presses on it, the tender skin screaming under his fingertips. He knew that if you were here now, you'd scold him for the state that he had gotten himself into, but in his defence, there is very little one can do to protect themselves when they're thrown through a building at a million miles an hour. He wished for you to be here so you could patch him up, something he had slowly gotten used to.

He liked the way that your hands traced over his skin, how gentle they were when you applied antiseptic creams or taped a bandage down to absorb a bleeding cut. You had joked that he had begun getting hurt on purpose just so he could be pampered, and he had protested. Even if he had faked the aches and bruises sometimes just so you'd run your fingers through his hair on quiet nights.

You hadn't been here for the last week, making him more irritable than usual. He couldn't blame you though, you had to work like him. In fact, it was the fact that you were a fighter pilot that you both had even met in the first place, so he couldn't complain. You had left with a kiss on the cheek the day you got deployed, letting him know that your squad had been called in for some mission. It was local thankfully, so you weren't going to be far. Hal kept telling himself that, but every step away from his side made the distance between you two feel so much further away each time.

He couldn't help worrying about you when you were away. He knew the ins and out of the job, knew the dangers and risks that it posed. The thought that kept him from checking on your status every day was the fact that he knew how you flew. Hell, he had flown with you himself. You were fast and efficient, a problem solver. You had faster reaction times that he could have hoped for in his own flying, casting him a cheeky thumbs up as you shot past him.

Hal Jordan knew he had been a good pilot, back when he was being called Highball and not Green Lantern. Hal was a test pilot. He flew daring, he flew fast, and without fear. That was his job, but you? You were smart. You flew with your head on straight, always two steps ahead. You were calculated with your strikes, you kept communication open with your team in the air, you made good calls. Hal had thought he had loved flying, until he saw you in the air and saw how you breathed it. How you seemed like a free bird in your jet, high up above everyone else. It was your life, and it was the beauty that had drawn him to you in the first place, a pull he couldn't and didn’t want to resist.

Your first date had been star gazing out at the base, its distance from the city letting the sky dazzle with a million pinpoints of bright lights. "I want to be like them on day." you had told him softly, arm behind your head and grin stretched over your lips. He had rolled to his side, propping his own head up and looking down at you. "you're hot enough already." he teased, making you wack his arm.

"You know what I mean." you groaned, still smiling. "Oh! Look!" you said excitedly, finger pointing to the sky and sitting up. "A shooting star!"

He turned, but he didn't see anything. "I missed it." he whined, pretending to flop back onto the mat you had laid out.

"Then don't take your eyes off the sky next time." you chided, looking at him softly.

Hal shook his head with a slight laugh. "I won't." he whispered. He kept his promise, Hal hadn't stopped looking at you since that night.

He was in the shower, hot water tracing over the tired planes of his muscles when the call came though. With a groan and a hand wiping the rivulets from his face he stepped from the stream of hot water, going to pick up the small receiver beeping on his bedside. "This better be good, I just got home." he snapped. "Emergency lines are for emergencies only."

"Thank goodness it's an emergency then." came the tone of Superman, crystal clear through the small device. "We need you."

"I just finished helping out that crisis in Central City, what kind of threat-"

"Everyone's being called in. Apparently, our friends from the Central City scuffle called for backup. Earth’s looking at an invasion force."

Hal cursed under his breath, lines of his face hardening in exhaustion. "Where do you need me?"

"Metropolis. We need everyone with abilities to try and buy time for our people on the ground." Superman's voice began slightly crackled, noise of a commotion on the other side.

"I'll contact Oa." Hal says curtly, striding back into the bathroom to get his ring. "I'll get them to run who it is, put a call out for an invasion of this sector. We can either get back up or get them to back off." he murmurs. Slipping it on his finger he willed the suit back, the glowing green covering up his patchwork skin once more. He catches sight of himself in the mirror, hair still wet and dripping.

"You want to take them to space court?" Superman says, tone still playful despite the tinge of stress. Hal shrugs his shoulders even though he knows the other man can’t see him. Climbing onto his bedroom balcony, he forces himself into the air, rerouting for Metropolis. "I don't know if it's space court, but my space lawyers will hear about this. See you there." He sighs off, commlink going dead as he flies toward the city.

It doesn't take him too long, seeing the carnage and smoke before he's even landed. He taps his commlink open, eyes scanning the city as he lands on a rooftop. "Hey Supes, a heads up would have been nice," he called. "You know, like saying they had already landed."

The commlink crackles to life, Superman patching through. "Yeah, well I got a bit distracted." he says, grunting and colliding heard over the line. "Just get to the main ship, we have to stop before they deploy any more forces."

"Copy." Hal murmurs, catching sight of the massive ship descending lower towards the city. Thankfully it was over the water, meaning that there was still time before they deployed over the city. As he neared the ship, Batman's voice filtered over the earpiece. "We have government assistance. You need to give enough time for forces to evacuate civilians on the ground. A squad is being rerouted from nearby, they’re being sent to help you in the air. Keep buying time."

Bruce's tone was clipped and sharp, making Hal wince against his headache.

He could see the bright costume of Superman within the ship, trying to get a hold of the controls, bodies of aliens motionless around him. Flying to the large windscreen of the large ship, he set his channel to a personal one with the man in blue. "Can you turn it off?" he asks, watching the other man hover around the controls.

"I can't. Everything I've done won't stop it. It's being remotely controlled. We can't get to it from here."

"Then we need to destroy it." Hal hums back. "We can't waste time. Do you think you can crash it?"

Superman looks up at him worried and slightly incredulous. "That'll hit the city."

"Not if I can catch it." he smirks, flashing his ring and making Superman sigh. "Fine. Let me know when you're in position."

"Roger that." Hal says, making a fake salute before flying off.

He picks a decent position, under the ship. It'd probably be the biggest thing that he'd have to lift with the ring, not to mention the noise and fighting of the battle ringing in his ears. Yet they had no choice. "Ready." he calls to Superman, hearing Kryptonian confirm on the other end.

They should have both known it was too easy, since as soon as Superman burst through the roof of the ship and it had begun falling towards the city, reinforcements arrived. Catching the ship with his ring, the massive unit was enveloped in a green glow. Hal breathes deeply, trying to keep his focus and trying to manoeuvre it further in the direction of the water. He can make out the shape of Superman fighting around him, trying to take out the smaller, back-up pods that tried to target him. The commlink was alive in a myriad of voices that hurt his head, teeth clenched together as he tried to block them out.

But then he heard it, the voice of Batman confirming military involvement followed by the familiar sound of jet engines. He didn't dare look, floating slowly through the sky as he forces his shaking hand to stay still. But when he sees a pod coming towards him, his grip falters slightly. The ship begins to tip and he catches it once more, groaning with the effort. It was like staring down the barrel of a gun, unable to do nothing as it came for him, unable to defend himself. Hal Jordan thought he was going to die.

Everything was ringing in his ears, slowing down as he watched it approach. Then, the pod went up in a burst of flames, making his eyes widen. The familiar roaring filled is senses once more, the vibrations settling in his bones as it flies past. He manages to make out a thumbs up pressed against the cockpit window as the jet flies past and his blood freezes.

It had to be you. It had to be. He hoped it wasn’t.

His mind filled with images of you like a photo album, making his heartbeat deeply in his chest. He wanted to yell at you, scream at you that you might be over your head in this. He trusted you more than anyone in the air, but that was against human planes. When you get hit on your second pass around it’s like the photos in his mind all bleach the black and white, his heart stopping in his chest. His mind feels like it catches every second frame, unable to process in the cacophony of noise.

The jet whirring past him. Your call sign printed on the side. The hit. The fire. Hal instinctively goes to dive for you, until the screaming of Superman snaps him back and he realises the ship was freefalling, veering for the city. He caught it again, struggling to even take a full breath with the effort. His eyes sought you out almost immediately, unable to tear away from your descent. You had been thrown into a spin, heat pooling at the edges of your wings until they flickered to life in tongues of flame.

You were burning in.

Hal was certain that he called for you, screamed your name as you plummeted towards the unforgiving ground, but he couldn’t hear anything anymore. All he could process was the way you fell, crackling towards the earth like a shooting star, his shooting star.

Just like your first date, he couldn't take his eyes off you. Except this time, he wasn't sure if he was ever going to be able to stargaze with you again.

[dollwrites]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 — 𝐡𝐚𝐥 𝐣𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐧

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ fem!justice league!reader, ghost!hal ( spectre ), angst, mentions of parallax, mentions of death and grieving and suicidal thoughts/tendencies, violence against reader, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading <3

𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 ∣ dancing with your ghost by sasha alex sloan

the coffee was cold and bitter.

but then again: so were you.

you finish the cup and set it on the table in front of you, sighing.

you hadn’t slept since you don’t remember when— at least not real sleep. it wasn’t the same as passing out from exhaustion for fifteen minutes at a time upon a pile of newspaper clippings, only to wake up screaming for Hal.

no, not screaming for him. screaming for him to stop.

you’d wanted to get through to him so badly that you’d put the entire League in peril to do so. you thought that if you could just look into his eyes, you could bring him back to the old Hal. your Hal. instead of this awful Parallax he now claimed to be.

you’d been wrong.

you glance down at your hands as you wiggle life back into your fingers— your knuckles were bloody and bruised; cracked open from too much training and too much vigilante justice. they’d all tried to get you to slow down, but none more than Oliver. Arrow still tracked you, and stepped in when you were going to do something extremely foolish. as much as you fought against him, he refused to let you go.

“They’re getting away!” you remember so vividly screaming it over the sound of thunder crashing and the rain that peppered your face as Arrow pinned you to the rooftop, holding your arms down by the wrists. for as wildly as you fought, his strength outmatched yours.

“Let them go,” he’d barked back, tightening his grip when you’d writhed, “there’s too many of them. You can’t take them down by yourself. You’re not even wearing your gear—“

“Who cares—“

“I care!” Oliver had screamed, pushing you back down when you bucked to get up. you stutter, startled by the break in his voice. you’d known Arrow for as long as you’d been in the Justice League, obviously, but the real bonding had been after Hal’s death. with Barry not around to fall back on, you’d been worried that you’d lean on OlIver until it broke him right along with you, so you’d pulled back. he was a persistent bastard, though, and he never let you get too far. “They’re armed to the teeth. Machine guns. You can’t just punch your way through a militia.They’ll kill you if you go after them alone,” you open your mouth to say something, but when no noise comes out, Queen keeps going, “that may not mean anything to you but it does to me. Hal would never forgive me if I let you do something this reckless.”

you wanted to cry, but your tears had long since dried up. so you choked on the words. “Hal’s dead.”

it hurt Oliver, too, for those words to come out. as you struggled to push them free from your lips, he winced, as if they drove themselves into his heart. “But you’re not.” he countered after a moment of silently pleading with his eyes. he wanted you to feel something so badly, and yet all you felt was guilt that you couldn’t feel anything at all. “Hal was my best friend.” it went without saying that he loved Hal, and so did you, but he uttered the words anyways. “Whether you want to believe it or not, you’re all that I really have left of the guy. I can’t lose you, too. Not after I swore to him I’d keep you safe. When my time comes, I will look him in the eyes and tell him I kept my promise.”

you stare at him, quiet, considering each word carefully. had Hal been himself enough in his dying moments for Ollie to make such a promise, or had Ollie spoken his intentions into the sky after Hal fell? did it really matter?

thinking about that night on the rooftop with Oliver, you reached up to gingerly caress the power ring that hangs from a silver chain around your neck, most of the time hidden by the neckline of your top, but not tonight. the ring rests right against your heart. you hadn’t even known Hal had given it to Oliver until that night, when he’d placed it on your finger. nothing happened, but Arrow said it was because he’d never attempted to charge it. he was too afraid of the power, he didn’t think he could wield it. you felt almost the same way.

John offered to charge it for you, too, but you refused. it wasn’t yours to wield. it was Hal’s. you wouldn’t try to pick up where he left off. you just wanted something of his to remember him.

right now, you get up and stumble over to the window, kicking old coffee cups and fast food wrappers. you really should take better care of yourself, it was what everyone was telling you, but you rarely found the time or energy to eat at all. it didn’t matter to you what it was, it didn’t taste very good, anyways. nothing did. so, whatever was fast and easily accessible usually won out. there’s a slight limp on your right side, as putting too much pressure down when walking would irritate what you expected was a fracture somewhere between your knee and your thigh— due to falling out of a third story window a few days before.

from your viewpoint, you could see most of the city, and you press your palm to the glass. it was a quiet night, which you hated, now. the silence. it was like it taunted you. at the very least, if you were kicking some bad guy ass, you could focus on the sound of his jaw breaking against your hand, or his ribs cracking under your knee. you didn’t have to think. just punch.

but when there was no one to hurt, no one to bring down, you started to collapse into yourself. think about Hal. try to imagine the way he used to smile when he said your name, as if the syllables themselves were enough to make him giddy. you hated yourself for starting to forget what his voice sounded like.

you’d tried, desperately, to hold on to that memory by calling his phone over and over, just to hear his voicemail.

Hey, you’ve reached Hal Jordan. I’m super busy right now, probably doing something really cool like, I don’t know, saving the freakin’ world so I can’t pick up. If you’ve got this number, then you probably know that already. Leave a message, and I’ll try to find some time to get back atcha, ya know, once I’m done with the whole superhero thing.

you’d heard it dozens of times, but it was never enough. and then, finally, the number was disconnected. as if the final shred of him was erased, and all you were left with was memories.

but memories fade, and you feared his would, too.

a battalion of police cars, all lit up, scream down the highway in front of your building, and the sirens pull you from your thoughts of Hal. staring at the direction the flashing lights mesh into, you bite down on your lip.

you shouldn’t go.

you were still healing from the last fight.

“Sorry, Ollie.” you whisper to no one but yourself, as you limp over to your gear across the room. he would have to get tired of chasing you around eventually, trying to be your safety net all the time. he wouldn’t have to tell Hal anything, because you’d decided you’d reunite with him first. you’d explain everything as soon as you were safely in his arms.

you were zipping up your combat boots when you hear his voice, and you freeze. “Let the cops handle this one.”

you stare down at the toes of your boots, worn and mud-covered. you’d stopped keeping your gear as clean as you used to. that’s not all. your feet were not the only two you were looking at. focused on the second set, those heavy, brown boots that you knew so well. they’d been left forgotten by your bedroom door much too often to forget. now, they meet faded denim jeans at the ankle. “H—Hal…?”

you didn’t want to look up, terrified that you would be alone. terrified that you were simply hearing things. seeing things.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he answers, and a familiar sensation of his hand slipping under your chin, fingers curling to tilt your head up, overwhelms you. they’re the same shape as Hal’s, but they’re freezing cold. your lower lip tremors as you force yourself to look up. “I thought it would only confuse you or hurt you. I just really wanted to see you. I’m sorry that I’m selfish that way.”

he was here.

Hal was really here, standing in front of you. he wasn’t clad in his Green Lantern suit, or that horrible Parallax costume. he was standing before you in his jeans, a faded blue button down, and his dad’s brown pilot jacket. the one he always wore.

“Hal.” you could only say his name, because other than that, nothing mattered. you didn’t care why he was there or how it was possible— you only cared that he was. “Hal...” it’s a cry as you fling yourself into his arms, bury your face in his chest. he was solid, because he caught you and wrapped his arms around your frame, pulling you close to him. he wasn’t an illusion.

“I miss you,” he whispers into your hair, his arms tightening around you. “I miss you holding me like this.”

for the first time in a long time, you feel a lump in your throat, and a tickle against your tear ducts. “You can’t stay.” you mutter. he didn’t have to say it, you knew Hal. the way he squeezed you extra tight when he didn’t want to let go, but he knew he had to.

“I shouldn’t even be here,” he admits, pulling back. he presses his cool forehead to yours and urges you to look up at him, “bad things happen when I’m around. I can’t control it. There’s this… thing inside of me, calls itself The Spectre. When I’m here, I hurt people.”

“Here.” you repeat the word, looking up into his eyes. they looked like Hal’s deep, mahogany eyes. you couldn’t imagine anything malicious lurking behind them.

but then again, you’d faced Parallax.

Hal looks around the humblest of apartments, and you can feel the concern radiating from his baritone as he murmurs, “Baby…” his gaze traipses every discarded coffee cup before it falls back on you, and he reaches up, caressing your cheek, “When’s the last time you slept?”

you melt into the caress— you didn’t care how cold it was, and clapped your hand over his to keep it there. “I don’t know,” you admit, sheepish. “I might be asleep right now. Dreaming all of this. You’re probably not even here.”

Hal frowns, and takes a step backwards, grasping both of your hands to urge you to follow, so that he can ease on to the couch. “It’s real,” he assures you. you follow him, scrambling to stay close until he can pull you on to the couch. you fall against him, wrapping your arms around his midsection underneath his jacket. the smell of leather that always greeted you when you hugged him was no longer there. he didn’t smell like anything. “Hard to explain, but real. I’m a… a ghost, I guess.”

“You’re cold.” you pout; you were trying to cuddle into him, but now matter how deep you burrowed against his chest, how fervently you tried to rub your warmth into his body, he wasn’t retaining any of it. it was like cuddling a block of ice— not your personal heater that Hal used to be.

“I’m sorry.”

you knew the apology was for more than just your shivering. you could feel the tips of his icy fingers as they trail along your spine, they stop to brush against a rough patch of scar tissue along the small of your back underneath your top. you remember, so vividly, the look on his face when Parallax had driven a construct blade through your belly. the force behind it had swept you off your feet and hoisted you into the air, where your blood dribbled from the corners of your mouth and rained down against his wicked, toothy grin.

what were you supposed to say? ‘It’s okay’? ‘No worries’? you opt for nothing at all, and press the side of your face against the expanse of his chest. maybe part of you hoped you’d hear the subtle thumping of a heart, and you could make sure he knows how much of a jackass he was for playing this awful, awful practical joke on you. but no such luck.

whatever was inside of Hal’s chest wasn’t beating. it was almost as if he were completely hollow.

for several moments, you lay there in silence, letting him hold you. he kisses the crown of your head every now and then, but mostly stays still, too. finally, as your eyelids start to feel heavy, you grip his jacket tighter, fighting your own drowsiness.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, “it’s okay to go to sleep.”

“No,” it was almost hard to whimper back in response. “Because I know you won’t be here when I wake up.”

he’s quiet, and you know that you’re right.

“I’m drowning, Hal.” you admit with a sniffle. it’d been the first time you had conjured tears in months. “I don’t know how to live in a world without you in it.” you dig your chin into his chest and look at him, but he’s staring far away, guilt plastered over his features. “Please don’t leave me again.” you swallow again, around the thick lump in your throat as your tears cascade over the apples of your cheeks, “If you love me, you’ll stay here. Help me. Please. Make it stop hurting so goddamn much—“

you’re silenced as a swift thumb swipes the tears from one cheek, and he looks down at you. his countenance is mournful; apologetic. “I wish you were smiling.” he whispers. you wonder if he’s unable to cry in this state. if he were still alive, would he sob with you? you felt that he might. instead, the air around the two of you felt heavy with sadness and regret. “Coming here had been a mistake I was willing to make because I would get to see you smile again, but I can only see how much pain I’ve caused.”

“Please,” you whimper, even as he purses his lips to gingerly soothe your crying, “I need you here with me. Just s—stay, I won’t tell anyone.” bargaining desperately, you grasp at his hand again. you didn’t care about the Spectre, you just wanted Hal.

“I wish that I could, but I’ve hurt you enough.” he laments, “And the pain that I’ve caused, I can’t make it go away for you.”

“I can’t do this without you.”

a sorrowful smile etched his tiers into a pathetic excuse for a smile. “Of course you can.” you were shaking your head no even as he speaks, as if refusing to hear him out. “But you have to ease up,” he flips his hand over to hold yours, gently running his thumb over your busted knuckles, “stop trying to get yourself killed, stop being reckless. I want you to heal.”

you look away, humiliated, and consider jerking your hand from his, but you don’t. you stare at the wall, wishing your tears would dry up again.

“You have to take care of yourself,” he continues, kissing each, battered digit, “there’s still so many people that need you.”

and what about the people that need you? what about me? the questions are on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t ask them.

“Promise me, baby. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

you really don’t want to.

you want to hold your own well-being hostage so he’s no choice but to stay, but when you look back into his eyes, you crumble.

they’re so desolate.

“I promise.” you croak weakly, and he pulls you back against him. you crash against his chest and cry there, your tears leaving no wet patch on his shirt. it was bizarre, but you didn’t stop to ponder it. “What will happen when I fall asleep?” you ask. truth be told, you were tuckered out from crying and the lingering insomnia. you didn’t want to hear him say he’d leave, but you didn’t want him to lie, either.

damned if he did, damned if he didn’t.

“I’ll have to go.” he answers honestly, but you don’t want to fight any longer. it hurts too much knowing that you’ll lose no matter what. “But I’ll hold you until the Spectre forces me to leave.”

you close your eyes, and grip his shirt in tightly balled fists. you were falling into unconsciousness, even though you wanted to stay awake with him.

“It’s okay.” he croons.

but it wasn’t. there was still too much to say that you’d not been able to. too many times to kiss him, and you would never have the chance to again. “Just…” your eyelids were too heavy to keep open, your voice thick with impending sleep that was well overdue. you knew that you’d hurt in the morning, but you could fight it no longer. “Say it… please… Hal…”

“I love you.”

[aeturnum-mendacacium]

How many people do you think batman had to see die? Because batman can't save everyone and this is Gotham, it's not a game, he has most definitely seen people, kids bleeding out to their death and know that they won't make it

Do you think he has held a child in a alleyway, leaning on the tattered wall, and let blood pour out of this boy, maybe a teenager, maybe just a kid, but held them so dearly, rocking them, humming, telling them that he'll be there till it ends, and do you think that during those times, a child so Little would have asked why it's ending, that he didn't want to go, and asked batman to come with him just for a bit cause he was scared to go alone, it doesn't matter what age, how many do you think he lied to? So that they could rest just for a bit, and then held on to that for the rest of his life? And had to move on. Move on and plan for the next day.

Do you think it was the reason why he was late for a few justice league meetings? Holding on to a dying life he knows he couldn't save, lying to them, comforting them, and then arriving late to get interrogated,blamed, for not being on time, and offering a simple offhanded excuse.

?knowing that tomorrow he has to escort another soul because there are no angels anymore to do so, lie to them that he'll follow them through, then turn around at the gates of heaven to drag his bloodied feet and follow his footsteps back to hell?

[misstergrayson]

THIS IS KILLING ME

He’s hurting his best friend😭😭😭😭😭😭,

After after Barry LITERALLY tears him apart, he tries again. For Barry. For Wally

I will never recover

[icantthink-ofagoodname]

Just got home from vacation so after Monday imma kick up the notch on my fic writing so except lots of fics in the next couple of weeks

[thwackk]

something. eeugh

[spinnertop]

So we all agree that human Green Lanterns have glowing green eyes because of the rings.

Hal has yellow because of Parallax.

Have a nice day!

[oceanicflyboy]

Do you ever lay awake at night feeing guilty and disgusted at yourself for falling inlove? Like literally falling inlove with someone who you are supposed to love as your best friend not as.. a lover. And you feel so guilty by it because you could never compare to be able to properly love them in your vision

Or you feel disgusted with yourself for having such thoughts, for getting nervous of their touch, of thinking of them and immediately blushing.. You can no longer see them as just a friend, you want them to hug you and kiss you, to be there for you as a lover not as a friend.

The kind of thing that gets you thinking; "Why am i acting like this? Why do i love them as a lover, i shouldn't feel like this, he's just my friend and that's it, right?" And the suddenly you are misreading situations, suddenly you crave his attention on you, suddenly you.. you want his touch so more often.

I disgust myself. I'm such a sinner, i don't wanna taint him.

{{ooc. Have your angst chat.}}

[im-not-buying-it-ether]

(gasp! another young Hal AU? This time his mom uhm, well, cancer is all i can say since i don't want to copy previous anon too much and your ideas too. He's probably either living alone in his childhood home or Jin is with him(Jin had to probably step up as the middle brother)!)

Silence fills the meeting room at the Watchtower, the silence is occasionally broken by a fidget spinner toy making noise, said noise coming from Green Lantern's chair who just got recently outed as.. a teenager since his suit had to be deactivated to have injuries treated. "Take a picture, it usually last longer" Hal says complety indifferent— in reality he is almost having a breakdown because good lord this is TERRIFYING. —while still playing with the fidget spinner.

I am getting a lot of Hal lovers now ain’t I this is so much fun and ANGST

At first it was silent, heavy stares falling on Kyle and Guy who vehemently defended their Totally An Adult status and immediately pulled off their rings to prove that fact. Hal laughed when Guy ended up in his cruddy Hawaiian shirt and mom jean shorts combo in defending his age while Kyle looked like any other beaten down artist ready to pass out, it made him feel a bit better about his dramatic reveal.

He flicked the spinner in his hands again, incidentally getting the attention back on him as Kyle and Guy put their rings back on. “So why did the Corp let a kid get a ring?” Kyle asked first, before anyone else could question him.

Hal shrugged to try and play it off, “I was outside when this plane crashed and the last guy to have it said something in an alien language I didn’t understand and then the ring flew to me, I dunno what else to tell you guys.”

Maybe he could start with why he was outside, very far away from his family as they yelled for him. That he’d been out alone in the woods crying while his mom got a toe tag when a star fell from the sky and he just stood there waiting for it’s impact with closed eyes and a sick sense of acceptance that he’d follow his mom to see his dad.

[oh-theatre]

headcanon that hal is afraid of commercial flights. flying with the lantern ring? fine, amazing, he loves it so much. flying for Ferris air? freeing, exhilarating absolutely wonderful. flying the javelin for the league? perfect, could do it all day. flying commercial airlines? no absolutely not

and its because hes not in control, he loves flying he loves being in the air and space, but thats because hes in control but commercial airlines? leaving the flying to someone else? absolutely not, he hates it

[platitudinalteen]

Posting a one shot tomorrow....👀

[messenger-of-babel]

Happy New Year

Summary: Hal reflects on all the ways he could have kept you around for another New Years. (Hal Jordan x fem!reader)

Word Count: 3.0K

Notes: brief mention of injuries, mild language, a soft spot for Hal Jordan.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Your favourite tradition with Hal had always been the New Year. He'd come back and whisk you away with that signature grin, leather jacket on his shoulders while he offered you his arm. The same arms that wrapped themselves tight around your waist as he grinned down at you, crafted smirk on his lips as he counted down with the crowd at whatever party in Coast City, Gotham, or Metropolis that he had somehow managed to get the exclusive invite to. Then he'd kiss you breathless, pulling away only to whisper, "Happy New year," against your lips before greedily taking another kiss.

It had been Hal’s favourite activity too. He couldn't explain the rush he got picking you up from your apartment, seeing you smile at him. When it came to pestering the other members of the Justice League for tickets to their city events, he started a month ahead to really wear them down until they agreed (however he always started two months early in order to get tickets to Bruce’s New Year Gala). He didn’t care if he became a pest at the watchtower, there was nothing better than seeing you all dressed up on that front step, smiling at him like he had just brought you the sun (which he would if he could). 

You meant the world to Hal Jordan, which is why it felt like his was tearing apart right now. There was a persistent ache in his chest, and a sharpness of breath every time he swallowed. The crook of his arm felt light, and his back was unusually straight without you jumping on him from behind. He was on Gotham for business, dreary and depressing as usual. The clock tower loomed in front of him, except this time there wasn’t a crowd counting down, or a kiss waiting on the other end. 

Ten.

“You’re late.” You had said to him as he raced into the restaurant, hair combed with only his fingers and suit jacket thrown over his arm. He tried to give you a charming smile to make up for it, but he could see from the frown on your face you weren’t buying it. 

“Only by ten minutes, got caught at work.” He had said, arm coming to circle your waist, which you shook off. He hadn’t been lying, he had gotten called to Oa for an emergency. However he didn’t particularly feel like revealing that he was in fact the local superhero, the Green Lantern, on your anniversary dinner. Or the fact that he was late because of a potential threat to some Lanterns stationed in deep space. 

“Not ten, twice that.” You snapped. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair again. “You’re still in the waiting area, I clearly wasn’t that late.”

“It's because we lost our reservation, Hal.” You murmur, brushing past him and refusing to meet his eyes as you storm out the restaurant. 

“Shit.” He hisses under his teeth as he watches you leave,  before turning to follow you. He offers a small wave to the onlookers from nearby tables, privy to the whole argument, and nods apologetically as if he hadn’t screwed up his anniversary. 

Nine.

“Nine weeks?” You ask, peering up at him with eyebrows furrowed. “You’re going to be gone for nine weeks?” 

Hal bites the inside of his cheek, cursing as the frown settled across your face. He nods, “Yeah, sorry babe,” and he winces, fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket. It was times like this he wishes he could tell you everything, let you know it wasn’t his fault. That he was doing this for you, so that you could be safe back on earth. He wanted to show you had badly he wanted to stay with you, to sleep in on Saturdays and watch dogs in the park from your bedroom window. To make you a coffee before you went to work, and kiss you on the cheek before he left for his.  

You just sigh, flipping through the calendar splayed out on the kitchen counter. “You miss my birthday you know.” You say quietly, head in your hand. 

“Yeah I saw.” He replies, lump in his throat. “I’m really sorry, babe. It’s just work-“ he cuts himself off with a frustrated groan. “You know I’d stay if I could, right? I wouldn’t go if there wasn’t any other choice. I love you, you know that.” He says softly. 

Silence.

That was the first time in your entire relationship you hadn’t said it back. He watched as you chewed at your lip, and he could see your eyes mist up slightly. It made his heart clench painfully in his chest, and his mouth went dry, not knowing what to say. He knew he should stay in the kitchen with you, to talk it out, but he couldn’t. 

Muscles heavy with shame he turned from the kitchen, heading back into your shared bedroom to continue packing. Maybe things would have been different if he hadn’t been a coward.

Eight. 

There were eight missed calls on his phone when he checked, all from your phone and minutes after the other. He cringed, finger hovering over the button to call back, before it slid to click the phone screen off instead and he pocketed it. 

“No personal business on the job.”

He turned, looking over his shoulder to catch the gaze of Batman who was busying himself with an array of computers. They’d set themselves up on the rooftop of a Metropolis skyscraper, monitoring transmissions from the adjacent LexCorp building. Hal stepped away from the edge he had been standing near, observing the chaos in the streets below, turning to face the black clad man. 

“I know that.” He scoffed, green mask crinkling in annoyance. 

“You accept any call here and Luthor could be made aware of our position.” 

“I said I know,” Hal snapped back, shoulder blades rising. “I didn’t take the calls.”

Hal sighs, feeling the phone vibrate in his pocket again. “It’s just…my girl. She’s worried is all. I said I was here for work. She’s probably losing her mind.” He confesses quietly. The weight sits uncomfortably in his chest, and his ego bruises slightly confiding in Batman of all people. Yet he can’t stop the words coming out to the silent vigilante. 

The man in question just sends him a side eyed glance, face stern but doesn’t tell him off. “We’ve been going through a hard patch. Just busy with work, you know? And we’ve been able to go out less and it’s just putting a bit of a strain on us. Not really her fault, it’s mine if anything.”

He signs and pinches the bridge of his nose as if to alleviate the oncoming headache. Batman just regards him silently, the white slits of his mask narrowing. Eventually he gives a grunt, turning back to his computers. “You can call her when it’s all over.” He says gruffly, making Hal sigh. 

You were definitely going to kill him when he gets back.

Seven. Six. Five.

He punched in 765, the code to your gated apartment building, only to be met with a red light and a buzzer sound. With a groan he hit his head on the cool metal of the grate, fingers coming up to find the button for the intercom. Typing in your shared apartment number and he waited as the dial tone began. It rung four times, making Hal worry, before you finally picked up and the tension eased out of his shoulders. “Hey doll, the code isn’t working,” he starts, aligning himself in front of the small camera so you can see him. “Can’t get in.”

He can hear your sign on the other side. “Codes change every month Hal,” you remind, the flicker of irritation in your voice not going unnoticed. “Changed up last week.”

He rustles the flowers in his hand, crumpled from being pressed against his chest for so long. “I was kind of busy, work kept me occupied.” He says, trying to be suave but the nervous smile on his face still lingers. The door buzzes again and the light turns green, metal creaking as it slides to let him in.

“It always does.” You say, voice flat until the static tone of the intercom cuts. 

Four.

He had four more drinks that he should have, going out to celebrate with old drinking buddies as one of his old, non-hero friends got hitched. The bachelor party had been a blur of sounds and colours after a while, and for a few pressing moments he had to remind himself that he wasn’t the bachelor anymore, he had someone waiting for him at home. The very same person he hurt as he stumbled in inebriated through the front door, tie loose and hair mussed. He could see the hurt flicker in your eyes as you took in the smear of dark lipstick against his cheek, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth. 

“Have fun?” You ask, crossing your arms. He thinks you’re beautiful even when you’re angry at him. He can see it in the way you dig your fingers into your arms, the slight quiver of your lips as you hold yourself back. He just nods in return, world spinning as he does. “A lotta fun,” he slurs, blinking away the lights dancing in front of him, tempting him to collapse onto the wooden floor. “A lotta pretty ones…” he snickers to himself, and your body freezes. If he was sober he’d backtrack faster than Barry could run, explain that the whole night he kept himself in check, that he actually came to his senses and denied everyone that threw themselves his way because they weren’t you. That you were the prettiest person he knew, that he didn't really mean to make such a comment.

But he doesn’t. He stumbles to the couch and collapses into its groaning arms while you regard him from the doorframe with a scoff. 

“You’re pathetic Hal Jordan.” You spit at him, but he can hear the hurt in your voice. If he was a better man he’d chase after the shadow of your retreating form, but he doesn’t. 

He doesn’t know if he deserves to. 

Three.

Hal Jordan had three things that he valued in his life. There was his work, of course, with the justice league and as a Lantern. There were the people of his city, his home, who had already endured so much, and then there was you. From the first time that he saw you, he knew everything was about to change for him, and he could only hope that it would be for the better. He wasn’t so sure what to call it now.

He had never expected things to get so messy.

Fires littered the streets of Coast City like pockmarks as he soared overhead, a threat too big for him to handle alone striking his city. Ever since it was rebuilt it had attracted all sorts of crazies, at a frequency that called him in more often than he’d like. Biting down his pride he had called the League. Was it sometimes overkill? Yes. Was Supes beginning to get worried about his ability to defend his city? Most certainly. 

But he couldn’t risk the city being destroyed again. Not when you lived here now.

His heart fell through his chest coming to the rubble of your apartment building. Touching down he leaped across the bricks and warped metal, courtyard strewn with personal belongings. Some of them he recognised, such as the framed art piece he got on sale that you hated but hung anyways, the glass now shattered and frame broken. Many were from other tenants, remnants of their lives now pinned under stone and steel. The paramedics had corralled as many people as they could off to the side of the road, blankets wrapped around shivering shoulders.

That’s where he beelined for next, relief quickly filling his veins as he sees you on a medical stretcher, bruised and scraped, but alive. You make eye contact with him, offering him a faint smile as he approaches.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, wishing more than anything he was out of the suit right now. To be Hal Jordan, the worried boyfriend. You nod, smile flickering weakly at the corners of your mouth. “I’m fine.” You say back hoarsely, hugging the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “I’m just waiting for someone.” You say, eyes flicking to the shattered phone screen beside you on the stretcher.

He feels guilt gnaw at him like a rat in his ribcage, and his own smile is tight in return. “I’m sure whoever you’re waiting for is worried to hell and will be here any moment.” He tries to sound calm, as if he isn’t going to wrap the whole battle up just so he can make good on that promise. You let out a dry laugh, not the kind that you’d let when he’d surprise you in the kitchen, or when he’d spin you around while strolling in the park.

“I won’t count on it.” You say, trying your best to stay calm. “Thank you for coming to check on us, for caring.” You say softly, giving him a warm smile that goes straight to his heart. Since you’d been having a rocky time he couldn’t remember the last time you smiled like that for him.

“No problem,” he said, voice caught in his throat. “Stay safe.”

As he walked away to talk to the paramedics to increase the range they should check for survivors, his heart fell painfully into his stomach. If only you knew how much he cared.

Two.

There had always been the two of you, against the world. That’s what Hal thought at the dinner of your first month anniversary together. However, that feeling was nothing more than a memory as he came home, late as usual, to the spare bedroom where he had been banished the past week. It was a new apartment, in a neighbourhood that you had been reluctant to move into but he had insisted it had the best safety. He knew he had done this to himself, but it did nothing to quell the ache he had in his chest that craved to have you close.

As he passed the ajar door of your once shared bedroom, he cant help but let out a small sigh, eyes cast back down to the floor as he wills himself to walk past. He’d been sleeping there shortly after the last city attack, where despite his best efforts he only got back to you in plain clothes two hours after the paramedics had let you go.  He should have had the conversation with you about him, his work, but he still couldn’t bring himself to say it.

 He was losing you; he knew that. Hell, everyone knew that, even the Bat. He’d seen the side glances cast to him in meetings, obscured behind the overly sympathetic (and not very concealed) gazes of Superman and Flash. He hated the pity, feeling like everyone was watching him lose the one thing he managed to both treasure and isolate the most.

As he dropped his bags on the bed he changed out of his suit. He knew it was dangerous to come home in the suit in case you found out, but there was just some small quiet part of him that hoped you might. That you might have stayed up, worried about him cheating or some equally heartbreaking scenario, and catch him coming home. Then he wouldn’t have to have the conversation itself and the cards would be on the table instead of him having to place them there. He knew that’s what it would take to have even a chance of keeping you.

Changed into a loose shirt for sleeping he crawls into the cold sheets of the guest bed, fiddling with his ring. Not for the first time, he thought of how you deserved any other ring that this cursed green one in your life.

One.

When he came home there was nothing of yours left. Clothes gone from the closet, books taken off the shelves. Nothing to indicate you had ever been a part of his life, just a single piece of paper on the kitchen counter. His heart had dropped to his floor and his knees wanted to buckle, despite having prepared and resigned to this moment mentally for weeks. He traced the faint curves of your handwriting, ghosting his fingers over the swells of your vowels.

You had left a pros and cons list, separated into two columns on the yellow grid paper by a thick black marker. In the cons you had written things like, ‘stays back late at work all the time, forgot anniversary, doesn’t pick up when I’m worried, comes home late’, and the worst one in his eyes, ‘cheating?’ surrounded by many scrawled question marks.

His eyes fluttered over to the pro’s column, unable to look at the hole he dug himself any longer. In more delicate handwriting you had delicately listed only one thing.

One, single thing.

I love him.

Now, Hal stared up at the clock face of Gotham, hands shoved into jacket pockets as he waited to meet Bruce. He waited on a park bench nearby, standing up when he saw the looming figure of the billionaire begin to approach him.

He hoped that no matter wherever you had taken yourself, whatever you had decided to do when you moved on, that you could hear the way his arms ached with your absence, and the way he faltered to say your name.

Happy New Year.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

blood on your altar

Fandom: DC Comics, Titans (fab five), Aquafam, Arrowfam

Summary: Roy Harper is haunted by a strange sight he witnessed while on holiday by the seaside.

Chapters: 4/?

Characters: Roy Harper, Garth, Oliver Queen, Hal Jordan, Dinah Lance

Relationships: Roy Harper/Garth

Additional Tags: Cannibal Mermaid AU, Sacrifice, Cannibalism as a Metaphor, Secrets, Angst, Romance, Horror, 1950’s AU

Chapter Four: Death at the Eclipse

Being followed at nighttime is a strange feeling. I remember Ollie told me something about the true nature of a man coming out when his life is on the line, and I thought it was war talk. Shuffling through the sand at a steady pace kept me from panicking as I listened to the sound of someone’s feet trudging behind me. I didn’t turn but I should have… Because the second I felt his breath on the back of my neck and smelled the stench of liquor and cigar smoke on him, it was too late. I felt something strike me in the back of my head, and I recalled Ollie’s words clearly. “When a man comes across a situation that is undoubtedly life or death, there’s nothing to separate him from an animal… And at that moment… He becomes a predator or he dies like prey,” Ollie’s words echoed in my head while my ears rang like a bell. I was out of it, knocked on my back with a man on top of me, punching me. I couldn’t hear him speak, but I had time to look when he stopped attacking me to see the glint of a blade. I blocked his attempt to stab me with my forearm. I went wide-eyed, staring into the eyes of my attacker. The man from the ice cream parlor. I struggled to get the upper hand, but he’d knocked me so hard in the back of my head. 

I felt his weight fly off of me, and I heard a crunch and squelching noise. Once my ears stopped ringing, and I regained my senses, I tilted my head back in the sand, staring at the blood on the rock ahead of me. Then my eyes focused on my boy creature in full creature form. His entire body covered in dark abalone shells glistened in the moonlit showers. His teeth were sharp and white, and his sharp, scaly claws tore the limp mess of a man’s head from his body. I sat with my legs crossed in the wet sand, staring at him. “Ur ye awrite?” the boy creature asked. I couldn’t speak. He cleared his throat, looking at me with his bright amethyst eyes. “Are you okay?” His American accent was exaggerated and dragged out but I understood him much better. 

“Are you going to eat me next?” I asked. 

“Of course not, dafty… You didn’t hurt anyone,” he answered. He lugged the limp thing on his shoulders carrying what remained of the head with one hand, and walked through a rock mass toward a closed-off beach area. I clutched my head and grabbed my satchel, following him dizzily. “You didn’t tell anyone you saw me… I listened for a tale, and you didn’t speak. You didn’t utter a word about me. Why?” 

“I don’t know. I was curious about you,” I confessed. 

“You made pictures of me. Will you make more?” he asked. He was talkative for a creature. We reached a half-submerged cave and he threw the body down ripping the man’s limbs from his body. “Does this make ya ill? I could eat him later.” I shook my head. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have drawn you that way—.” 

“Why not? Do you not like your drawing?” he asked innocently. 

“I—. Well—.” I stammered before taking a deep breath. “I draw what I like to look at. I never draw anything that I don’t like.” He smiled. 

“I liked it too. You made me look special… I’ve never talked to a human before. I have so many questions,” he replied. He could’ve yammered on forever. He seemed lonesome. I wondered if there were others like him. But I figured it’d be better to let the person who could tear men limb from limb ask the questions. I nodded. “Do your parts change?” 

“Huh?” I asked. I watched as he set the arms aside and wiped his mouth. Holding eye contact, he took a fully human form and started touching himself. I felt my face go red hot as I turned away. “Is it not human enough?” I swallowed hard, trying not to let it arouse something in me. 

“It’s human, alright,” I answered. He rinsed his hand in the water and touched my head where I’d been struck. The pain subsided, but I felt so dizzy that I fell forward on him. He held me. 

“I didn’t know if it’d work on ya. Does it hurt still?” he questioned as he smelled me. I thought it was strange, but he didn’t seem like an immediate threat to me. 

With my forehead pressed against his shoulder, I glanced down at his lower body, and I found myself staring. “Are than any others like you?” I asked. 

“Not like me… But there are others,” he answered, “It’s my eyes… There’s a superstition. I don’t know much about it, but people who have my eye color are usually killed at birth… I’ve been alone for most of my life, but I’ve had contact with others. They’re like a family to me. I come here to hunt. I need things that they don’t. That’s why I eat humans. I won’t eat you, though. You make me look nice in pictures… Why do you cover yourself with so many things?” 

“It’s cultural. Most humans prefer we cover most of our bodies. Why did you hide when I saw you that night?” I asked. 

“I thought you’d want to hurt me… Humans don’t like it when people aren’t like them. I wasn’t going to hurt you,” he mumbled. He wrung his soft human hands and frowned. 

“I don’t want to hurt you. I want to—. What I want to do doesn’t matter,” I paused to gather my thoughts and say something more appropriate. “What’s your name?”

“Garth,” he answered. 

“That’s a good name,” I smiled. He removed the man’s sleeve as he bit into a bicep. He went half-creature as he ate, humming and groaning with pleasure. He ate until he picked the man’s flesh clean from his bones. His body alternated between varying degrees of human and inhuman. He wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb. 

“What do you want to do?” Garth questioned without looking at me. He kept eating, and I didn’t mind. I knew I should’ve, but I was so intrigued with him that I didn’t care. 

I silently stared at him until he looked at me. “Will I see you again after this?” I asked. 

He nodded, still focused on cannibalizing the ice cream parlor bigot. Garth paused as if he’d remembered something important and grabbed my face. I tensed, wondering if it’d be my end, but he rubbed the bridge of my nose with his thumbs and touched my lip with his bloody fingers. The pain in my face subsided, and he returned to his meal. “Wash your face… No one will know he hurt you. I fixed your face. It’s pretty again,” Garth reassured me. Pretty? Ha. I grabbed his wrist, stopping him for a moment. His eyes went from bright amethyst to their indigo color, and I wished I could’ve kissed him. I wanted to, but I didn’t dare. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” I whispered. He grinned at me, studying my features. 

“If you come back, I’ll take you to see the beautiful place. It’s going to rain again, so I can’t take you today. Your human skin is too fragile. The lightning could hurt you. After I finish eating, you should go home,” Garth suggested, “And you never told me your name… But I’ve heard it. Roy, isn’t it?” 

“Mhm. Roy Harper,” I replied as I washed the blood off my face. 

When I dried my face, Garth grinned at me. “You’re not afraid of me. Will you bring me a picture soon?” Garth asked. He pushed the body into the deeper, murkier part of the water and washed his hands and face. That’s when he leaned forward and kissed me. I pulled away. My thoughts raced as I tried to grasp at something sensible. “Sorry, I thought—.” I reciprocated before he could finish his sentence. I felt him creeping across every inch of my spirit, and I believe I did the same to him. Like an eclipse, for a moment we were perfectly aligned, sharing the same thoughts and feelings. My heart raced as I reached for his face, soft and fleshy like a human’s. Our lips captured each other, and I could taste blood. It made my ears ring and my whole body tingled, raising goosebumps from my neck and down my arms and back. How could I turn back? How could I stop myself from falling in love? I couldn’t be bothered with my conscience. I wanted him, body and soul. He had me. Everything I was… I was willing to give. If he wouldn’t eat me, I’d let him devour me. Heart and mind. Mind and all.

[fandom-friday]

The Hearts of Gotham by schrijverr (https://archiveofourown.org/works/52431838/chapters/132640942) Batman, Justice League. Batman makes the Justice League believe that he has two hearts to throw them off his secret identity. When the sound system breaks, he lies and says that he split in two to make Robin. It spirals from there as each new Robin adds to the lie… I really enjoyed reading this one! The ending is even funnier when it all comes crashing down. At least, in my opinion.

Listen, whenever I see the tag "Crack Treated Seriously", my interest is already piqued. Let the crack grow and flourish into a fic. HELL YEAH, EMBRACE THE CRACK @schrijverr. But also, this sounds hilarious, and I'm always all in on hijinks and shenaniganery. Thanks so much for sending this one in!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

[shehungthemoon]

Where are my Parallax x Barry Allen fics PLS

[fezwearingjellybananas]

If Onlys

It would be a nice dream, at the start. Before Hal remembered it could only be a dream (G, 332 words)

DC Comics

[Hal Jordan, Barry Allen, Iris West]

Major Character Death

Additional Tags: Post Crisis On Infinite Earths, Canonical Character Death, fantasising, Angst

For Multiamory March Day 13: Fantasy

It was always comfortable, when he woke up. Barry would be curled up on one side of him, always a shade too warm, and Iris would be on the other, hands cold enough to balance everything. And they would smile at him and Barry would dart off and reappear with breakfast, a myriad of foods he’d found from across the world, always eager to try something new.

[Continued on AO3]