#losin my voice maybe

[puppyie-innit]

tickles for when yur sick/feelin icky っ◞ ﻌ ◟ς

my stupid big bruder has dis new old habit of playin doctor wif me..

like checkin reflexes an sayin how the t-word is soo important for my health

i love hate it

(bubbie knows how much ive always feared doctors an avoid em, especially when it comes to shots an strong smells.. so i fink dis is kinda his way of comfortin an showin me dat not all doctors are scary, an none of em are designed to hurt me.. i wuv him)

anyways, here’s a scenario story thingy inspired by it:

The room is quiet except for the hum of an old heater and the rustle of blankets as I burrow deeper into my makeshift cocoon. Sick days are supposed to be restful, but my “doctor” has other plans. He leans over, stethoscope in hand—an actual one, from who knows where—and mutters somethin about checkin my reflexes.

I groan, already suspicious.

He gently pokes at my side, and I squeak involuntarily. “Ah-ha,” he says, with mock seriousness. “Reflexes are still sharp. Good sign.”

“St-stop!” I squirm, but I’m smilin now, even if my stuffy nose makes it harder to breathe. His fingers dance along my ribs like they have a mind of their own, “examinin” every ticklish spot they can find.

“It’s important for your health!” he insists, ignorin my half-hearted protests as I wriggle under his grip.

He doesn’t stop, of course. He never does when I’m laughin like this, even when I’m breathless and weak from bein sick. His hands shift to my tummy, givin it the lightest scribbles that somehow feel the worst.

“See? Tummy’s all jumpy. Definitely a sign of improvement,” he teases, grinnin like he’s cracked some groundbreakin medical discovery.

“Y-you’re the worst doctor ever!” I manage between giggles, kickin weakly at the blankets, which only traps me more.

“Worst?” he gasps dramatically, pressin a hand to his chest as if I’ve wounded him. “I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in tickle-ology.”

I whine through a laugh, half-buryin my face in the pillow to muffle the sound. “That’s not even a real thing!”

“Sure it is! And as a certified tickle doctor, I prescribe more giggles to cure what ails you.” His fingers find the spot just under my arms, and I squeal, thrashin as much as my sick, blanket-bound self can.

“Nooo! I’m—hehe—healthy! I swear! You don’t need to—eee!—check anymore!”

He slows for a moment, just enough to let me catch my breath, but his hands rest threateningly near my sides. “Hmm… I dunno. Maybe one last checkup. I have to be thorough, after all.”

I growl, both dreadin and secretly lovin what’s coming next. “You’re evil.”

“And you’re giggly. Now hold still—doctor’s orders!”

I want to hate it—really, I do—but I love the way he makes me feel safe even when I’m too sick to do much else. His silly “doctor” game doesn’t hurt; it just reminds me that some things, like him, are soft, warm, and safe.

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Calling Logan daddy????!!!!

None of you can tell me he's not into that. Being called daddy, especially when he's balls-deep in you and you're shaking with ecstasy? Yeah. He's definitely into it.

Oddly enough, he'd actually never thought about it. Until you said it. He hadn't even put his cock in you yet, he was just teasing you, rubbing the bulbous tip between your folds.

He'd been doing it for well over thirty minutes, maybe an hour? He'd lost track of time, really.

He kept teasing you and teasing you until you were shaking, whining, crying with the need to have him in you.

And then—

“Daddy, fuck me. Please.” Your voice, so soft, so sweet, so desperate, calling him daddy...

His hips buck almost reflexively, his cock slipping into your soaked cunt with so much ease. You squeal and he grunts. “Fuck, sweetheart. Don't do that.”

“Daddy,” you gasp, so lost in your pleasure, you don't even know what you're doing. “Daddy!”

He slowly slips all the way into you, filling you up, watching his cock disappear into your perfect body. “You're such a bad girl,” he groans. “Got me losin' my fucking mind, bub. Calling me Daddy like it's no big deal.”

You squirm, gasping, trying to move your hips so he fucks you. But he grabs you and holds you still, his cock twitching in you. ��Nuh-uh. Bad girls have to let Daddy do what he wants. You didn't think you could call me that and then just get away with it?”

“Fuck,” you gasp, eyes half-lidded. “Logan, please—!”

He spanks your ass and tsks. “No, baby. Not Logan. That's Daddy to you.”

---

Blog masterlist

I feel like I could have elaborated on this??? But I like the ending so much 😭😭😭

Top banner by @cafekitsune 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 I love your work!!!

[taintandviolent]

Like Right Now? ; Peter Maximoff x Reader

summary: Part 2 of this fic! Peter waited as long as he could - which wasn't very long. He wants round 2 and you do too. Like.... right now.

word count: 3.3K words!

w a r n i n g s: shameless smut, smut with a little plot, unprotected sex, couch sex, sex while parent is in the same vicinity dry humping, kissing, neck kissing.

a/n: not beta-read. by popular request... aaaah I'm still as nervous as I was posting the first part of this! anyway, I hope it's good and satisfies the peter craving! as always, sorry for any clunky weirdo writing!!!

full fic & taglist under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! /

With a contented sigh, you opened the door to the house you shared with your mother. Even though you were technically an adult now, you had decided to stay with her, helping her around the house. A child of divorce, you’d always been a little overprotective of her, and couldn’t imagine her alone. 

“Did you have a good skate, honey?” Your mother asked, watching from the living room as you hung your skates on the hook by the door. With your thumb, you furiously rubbed off a scuff mark off the shiny surface and nodded. Boy, did you. Best skate you’d ever had. Using your heels to slip your sneakers off, and kicking them towards the rest of the shoes, you laughed. “Yeah, I went real fast tonight and��” 

The phone interrupted your next words, ringing shrilly. You practically stumbled towards it, reaching out for it like a parched man reaches for water. Your insides wound themselves in knots, just knowing that it was Peter on the other end. 

“H-hello?” 

“Hey cutie.” He’d waited. As long as he could without losin’ his ever loving mind. Which, he wondered if he already had, considering how bad he was aching to hear your voice again. Maybe he’d already lost it. 

“Hi,” you hummed, turning away from your mother. You brought your tone lower, hushed. 

“Did you just get home?” 

“Yeah, Peter, I did.” 

“Dang, slow poke. I’ve been home for a while.” 

“Okay, well,” you laughed. “That’s not fair.”

“When do we get to uh… hang out again? Huh? I’m already jonesin’ to see you again. With or without skates.” Peter adjusted the phone against his ear, waiting. 

You peeked around the corner. Your mother was busy with her program, no longer paying attention to your conversation, likely assuming that it was just one of your girlfriends. How wrong she was… 

“Hang out? Is that what we did?” 

“Yea’, er… somethin’ like that.” 

“Whenever you want.” 

“Aw, man, don’t say that…” 

“Why not?” You ducked around the corner and plopped down on the third step of the staircase, winding the cord around your fingers. You knew why. You heard the way that Peter’s breath hitched in his throat, even through the phone. 

“Like… now?” 

“...Right now?” You asked back, almost in a teasing tone. “Like right now?”

“Yeah!” His tone was bright and excited, and it sounded like he was already out of breath.

“My house?” The suggestion was brave, but you knew your mom would be going to sleep within the half-hour. If you stayed quiet, she wouldn’t hear you over her bedroom TV. 

“Yeah! I mean…” He cleared his throat, trying to act casual. Way more casualness was needed - he was acting super lame and way too into you. Maybe you liked that. Maybe you didn’t. He couldn’t risk it. “Sure. If you want.” 

You began whispering your address, your eyes flitting to the living room. Your mother rose from the chair and went to the kitchen, none the wiser. You continued, knowing Peter had already committed it to memory. Your mother leaned down to cup your face as she went up the stairs and mouthed goodnight, and you covered the receiver with your hand.

“Night, mom. Love you.” 

“Be there in a flash.” You heard him say. 

You wanted to tell him to wait, but the line was already dead. As you moved, your hands shook and fumbled the receiver, dropping it once before getting it back on its cradle. Your mother had hardly gotten up the steps, and he’d be there any second, if he wasn’t already. You heard the door click shut and heaved a sigh of relief. 

“Mom?” You said, testingly. She didn’t respond, so you launched your body up the carpeted stairs, running up them like a four-legged animal. Her door was shut, nothing but the dull glow of her bedside table seeping through the crack at the bottom of the door. You raced back down the stairs, your socks padding quietly down them, despite the speed.

Your bedroom was down the hall, past the kitchen. You’d never been gladder to be on the bottom floor. You crept into your room, edging the door shut until the latch clicked into place and as it did, paused to laugh at yourself; you were doing everything so sneakily, as though you were a child acting out. You were a grown woman, albeit still in your mom’s house, but the point remained. Pushing aside the curtains, you carefully maneuvered the window up. It was a warm summer evening, there was no reason why you wouldn't open your window - perfectly normal, if your mother heard it. You stuck your head out. No Peter. Surely, he’d have been here by now. You breathed, looking at the base of the tree outside your window. A squirrel skittered up into the branches. Just as you were about to pull your head back inside, Peter’s head comically poked out from the corner of the house. He had clearly been standing by the front door, which horrified you.

“Took so long, I was about to knock – .”

You shushed him, and whispered harshly for him to get inside. He stuck one leg in, climbing in carefully – the last thing he needed was to be a total klutz and eat it on your bedroom floor.

“You’re crazy, you know that? The front door!?” 

“Cool your jets, babe. You didn’t tell me which window was yours. Where’s your mom?” 

“Upstairs, hopefully sleeping.” 

“Good,” he murmured into your lips, suddenly in front of you. He’d caught you off guard with his speed, but like everything he’d done from the moment he’d complimented your skates, he was so frustratingly cute. The kiss was warm and soft, you were in no position to resist it. He kissed you back towards the bed, his hands cupping your breasts, thumb tweaking your nipples over your shirt. Which reminded you… you were still in your skating clothes. There was far too much fabric in between his thumb and your nipple. 

“Lemme’,” you murmured sloppily into his lips, before finally pulling back. “Lemme’ change first, okay? It’ll look less suspicious. Who needs to cool their jets, huh?” 

“Sorry, sorry.” Hands up, Peter took a step back, watching you as you sauntered off towards your small closet. Your hips swayed back and forth to a song that wasn’t playing. Probably something you’d heard at the skating rink. You could admit it, you were putting on a bit of a show in hopes of arousing him. 

Still though, you hurried, sliding the doors open and pulling your shirt over your head. You reached around and undid your bra, glancing back at him cheekily. Woah, jackpot… he thought, hoping, that at that point, he wasn’t drooling like a cartoon dog. He was watching you intently, a crooked grin plastered on his face. Neck turned, you held his gaze, daring him to look as you slid your shorts and panties down over the curve of your ass. He looked, but it was so fast of a peek that it was impossible for you to notice. Now finished with your impromptu strip tease, you pulled a sleeping shirt from the shelf and threw it on, spinning on your heels to face him. 

Clad in nothing but the oversized t-shirt, you marched back to Peter, who had taken a seat on the edge of your bed. You climbed behind him, sliding your hands up the round muscle of his shoulders. On your knees, you were just taller than him and decided to take advantage of that by kissing his neck, slowly. You nipped here and there, suckling in other places while your hands explored the front of his shirt, ghosting over the faded print. 

Peter started sweating, and the stiffness between his legs got worse. Much worse. There was no hiding it, or ignoring it and he could’ve sworn that he heard you giggle behind him. His expression was a melange of pain and pleasure, and as your hands neared his crotch, he couldn’t really tolerate much more of your tender kissing… 

“Babe,” In a blur of motion, your back was pressed against your mattress, and he was back to tweaking your nipples again, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. The action made you squirm. “Your foreplay is bitchin’, but you’re driving me crazy. Loco. I feel like I’m gonna’ bust.”

“Okay, so now what?” 

“Now what?” He repeated, almost mockingly. “It’s my turn.”  

His hand trailed down from your breasts over the curve of your stomach to the soft mound between your legs. You felt a buzzing directly on the sensitive bundle of nerves and looked down, equal parts confused and aroused. It was his hand, and not a vibrator, but instead of seeing his fingers move back and forth, you saw a flesh-coloured blur. Everything you’d learned about fingering… in the span of a few hours, he’d completely shattered. So, he could finger-fuck you at super-speed, and he could literally vibrate your clit. Of course he could. 

“Oh my god,” you moaned, an intoxicating lilt to your words. Peter groaned, and ground his hips against the side of your thigh. His finger dipped down, collecting some of your warm, slithery wetness and pulling it back up, smearing it around your folds.

You clapped your hand over your mouth, legs quivering. The pad of his middle finger continued tapping your clit and you felt the very rapid climb of your orgasm. Without warning from him, Peter’s hand drifted away from your pussy, his slick fingers gripping your thigh. “Babe, I’m thirsty.” 

“Wh-what?” Breathless and sweaty, you quirked a brow at him.

“You got a soda or something?” 

“Uh, yeah, in the kitchen. Y-you’re really thirsty right now?” 

Before you could protest, you stood in the kitchen. He had opened the fridge, popped the tab on a can of Coke, guzzled it, and tossed it into the bin. You blinked. “What… Peter…!” You sniggered, covering your mouth to muffle the sound of your own voice. Your mother’s bedroom was right above the living room, and the last thing you wanted was her to wake. 

He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t wait any longer. He’d gotten you downstairs, and now it was time to up the ante. Wrapping his arms around you, Peter zipped to the couch, and could’ve fucked your wet little cunt right there on the sofa. In the span of a few seconds, Peter could’ve drilled his aching cock inside of you, just long enough for you to feel it, just long enough for him to bust inside you and just long enough to make you quiver. Instead, he hovered over you, looking deep into your eyes, chest heaving. 

“What’re you so nervous for, babe? You know that the second I hear footsteps, we’d be back in your room.” 

“Peter, we can’t… my mom is right above us, dude!” 

“You’re no fun, c’mon.” He craned his neck down, pressing a few teasing kisses along your exposed collarbone. “C’mon, babe.”

You whimpered, rolling your lips inward and your eyes upward. For being such a top tier goof ball, he was unnervingly good at making you feel like your entire body was on fire. That electric current that you felt at the roller rink was back, buzzing through you at a high voltage.

“Peter…” you begged, hoping he’d change his mind because the reality was that he’d get his way if he didn’t. You were too turned on and too into him to say no. 

“C’moooon.” Another kiss. Internally, he was ripping stuffing. His confidence was outrageous, where did he get the balls? He wished you were holdin’ his – no. Stop right there. You ran your tongue along your teeth, and Peter watched the wet muscle as it swept across the enamel, glistening. 

“You promise?”  you asked. 

He nodded, too eagerly, his silver hair flopping with the motion. “Scout’s honour, or whatever. She won’t know a thing.” 

With a little huff, you spread your legs, allowing him in. Peter wasted no time in letting that wet, aching monster free, immediately pulling his gray boxers down over his balls. You pressed your hips into the couch cushions, backing away from the heat that met your groin and Peter followed them, pressing his hips right back into you. He groaned breathily, rutting his hips. You were soft and warm underneath him, and felt so soo good. The shaft of his cock met your wet folds, and he immediately found a rhythm, humping you in long, steady thrusts that had you curling your toes. Every time the velvet plush head of his cock bumped into your swollen clit, you whimpered. Ecstasy deluded your senses, eyes rolling back in your head.  

“Peter, oh my god…!” His hand clamped over your mouth, his dark eyes widening in a warning. 

“Shhhhhhh –” 

You nodded underneath his grip, remembering the threat of the situation. Peter kept his hand on your mouth, pressing tightly against your soft lips. He reached down, taking hold of his cock and pumped it in and out of his own fist a few times before lining up with your entrance.

“Ready?” 

With lusty, half-lidded eyes, you nodded. 

Peter pushed his leaking tip inside of you, then with a shaky breath, sunk the rest of the way in. The sensation of your walls stretching to accommodate his thick cock was indescribable; hot, tight pleasure coursed through your body in waves as Peter found his rhythm. Fast. Fast rhythm. He fucked like a teenage boy, and you liked that – his bunny humps were deep and intentional, like the crimson head was trying to find the deepest point inside of you. Peter pressed his lightning-bolt patterned socks against the armrest of the couch, using it as leverage to push himself inside of you.

His cock made slick by your arousal, his hips moved against yours rapidly, hammering your cunt in a way that you physically thought impossible. In the darkness, you saw Peter smirk crookedly, pleased with the visual below him. Your tits bouncing underneath the shirt with each thrust, your eyes wide and lust-blown. His gaze dropped to them, watching, entranced. With your free hand, you reached for the hem of your shirt, pulling it up to your collarbone and letting your breasts fall free. 

“Oh fuck,” he whispered. 

Skates fast. Fucks fast. Cums fast. You thought, watching as his face contorted, his eyebrows knitting together, jaw dropping. His breaths came out in hurried little huffs as he pumped inside of you, filling your cunt with sticky, white heat. 

“Honey?” 

He froze. You froze. Stiffly, you turned your head towards the staircase, looking up into the darkness, petrified. 

“YEAH! YEah, mom, just… getting a drink!” You tried to keep your voice level, but there was something so inherently naughty about having a guy on top of you, his dick inside of you while you spoke to your mother. Your stomach was tight, muscles burning with the contraction. 

“Oh, okay! I thought I heard - I don’t know. I love you!”

“I love you too! Goodnight!”

Once the door clicked shut, and your head snapped back in Peter’s direction, who was still panting on top of you. Slapping his pectoral muscle hard, you mouthed go go go go! Naturally, before you’d finished the last ‘go’, Peter had pulled out and you were back in the safety of your bedroom before a drop of cum had time to leak from your swollen cunt. Back on your bed, your hair splayed out on the satin pillowcases. Peter was at your side, drawing circles on the exposed flesh of your stomach. 

“Did you uh -”

“No… I didn’t have a chance.” 

“Oh, uh… sorry about that. That happens a lot, y’know? Part of the whole speedster thing, I can’t always –” 

“Peter… shhh… it’s cute. It means you like me.” 

He pointed a finger at you, pushing his bottom lip into his top. “That… that is true. Hey. I have an idea.”

In the darkness, only illuminated by the moonlight that filtered in through the window, you saw Peter sink down to his stomach, resting between your legs. He moved both legs atop his shoulders, pulling you forward.

You felt a hot breath against your thighs, and whimpered. When a warm tongue licked between your wet folds, you moaned out, grinding your head back into the pillow. Peter slipped a single digit into your cunt gently, twirling his tongue around your clit as he did. He pumped it in and out a few times, feeling the way your cunt squeezed around him. Your wetness coated his finger, dripping down the length into his palm. 

You felt your cunt clenching, uncontrollably. Peter did too and withdrew his finger. His tongue flicked at your clit rapidly, the wet, slick sounds filling the quietness of the bedroom. His dark eyes flitted up to yours, watching every minute expression that flashed across your face. 

“S-slow down…” you whispered, not loud enough for him to hear. It was more of a desperate breath in the shape of the words. He didn’t hear you, and even if he had, he was far too busy burying his nose in your cunt, tasting your sweet fluids. His tongue lapped at your entrance and curled back towards his throat, swallowing. He groaned into her, the sound resonating through your core. 

“Peter… Peter!” You whispered harshly, gripping his head on either side. He didn’t budge, and his eyes drifted shut in ecstasy. Moving up to take a fistful of silver hair, you yanked him off your cunt, his reddened lips glistening and open, confused. His inky orbs looked up at you, dazed and desperate. 

“Whaaat?” he asked, a hint of annoyance tainting his usually upbeat voice. 

“Slow… down….” 

“Sorry but that’s not really… my…” He paused, looking at your weeping cunt again. “...thing. She doesn’t really look like she wants me to, either.” He reached forward, sweeping a single digit along the length of your pussy. You jerked, sensitive.   

“I can’t stand it, I’m gonna’ cum too quickly.” 

“Quick is in the name, babe.” He shrugged his shoulders, as if telling you that you were shit out of luck.

He dove back in, and picked up licking her again, from bottom to top. He was slightly slower than before – maybe he’d decided to have mercy on you. Or maybe he was just savouring the feeling of your cunt as it practically fluttered on his tongue, your clit throbbing with the sensitivity. You rocked your hips against his mouth, humping his pretty face with reckless abandon. It was the only control you had, because as soon as you started that, his tongue had returned to the speedy flipping of your clit.

You were going to cum – so fast that you hardly had time to process it. 

“Ffffuck… oh god,” you whimpered. Your cunt pulsed over and over again, and Peter was right there to feel it. He speared two fingers into her. Curled them upwards, feeling the clench of your orgasm as it came. He fucked you with his fingers until the throbbing stopped, and the first hint of overstimulation came – you whined, too loudly. 

Peter grinned, his slick fingers slipping from your pussy. With a mischievous little glimmer in his eyes, he observed them, watching as the thick, clear strands strung apart between his digits. 

You wanted to ask him on a date. He wanted to ask you on one. But neither of you said a thing. Neither of you said a thing, and just watched each other breathing, chests heaving, heavy with lust. Lookin’ cuter than she ever has… Peter thought, watching you in your post-coital state; sweaty and blushing. 

You knew you were going to be obsessed with him – were already obsessed with him. The high that you chased with skating was nothing compared to what you felt being around this silver dork, and all his little quirks.  

“So uh… same bat-time, same bat channel?” 

You chuckled. “Yeah, Peter. Yeah.” 

[watermelonlovershigh]

Friends Who Share Mutual Emotions {part 3.} (housemate!harry series)

Arguments and Confessions {part 2.} (housemate!harry series)

AN: i've been in a writing mood lately so i hope you enjoy me spitting out these stories left and right lol. anyways, here is part 3 to my housemate series. before you ask, yes there will be a part 4 and hopefully a couple more after that. let me know how you liked it and make sure to leave your feedback. thank you and enjoy!

This story contains: mentions of one-night stands, confessions of feelings, slight angst, fluff

{ housemate!harry - friendrry - soft!harry - au harry }

word count- 1,372

Harry confesses that you're the women he likes and after giving you some time to think, you have an eventful conversation about your mutual feelings and how you'd like to move forward within your friendship.

Looking deeply in your eyes, Harry answers clearly, "Her name..... her name is Y/n." The weight of his confession leaves you standing in the kitchen, completely shocked. When you initially asked him about his love interest, you never anticipated that he would reveal his feelings for you. Although he described some of your qualities, you didn't think much of it, as many people can possess similar traits.

Realizing that you need some time to process his words, Harry rises from his stool and states, "I don't expect you to feel the same way about me or anything. I'll give you some space to think, alright?" With that, he turns around and retreats back to his bedroom.

Now standing alone in the kitchen, you find yourself torn about what to do. On one hand, the man who kindly allowed you to stay in his home as a housemate, who eventually became your friend, and whom you've developed feelings for, has just confessed his affection for you. It seems like the ideal outcome, but what if something goes wrong? You would risk losing your best friend and a place to live.

On the other hand, if everything goes well, you could finally experience a fulfilling relationship. You could put an end to the casual encounters and truly understand the intimacy that others have experienced in Harry's bed. You would have the opportunity to feel his touch on your skin and savor his kisses, something you had only imagined during fleeting encounters with strangers.

---------------------------

You head to Harry's bedroom and upon reaching his door, you give it a hesitant knock. A soft voice responds with, "Come in." and you take that as your signal to enter. Inside, you find him sitting up in bed with his cat Pixie beside him, and the TV showing old episodes of Friends.

Approaching his bed slowly, Harry gestures for you to sit beside him. After a deep breath, you confess, "I want you to know that I have feelings for you too, Harry. How could I not? You're kind and sweet, and anyone would be foolish not to have a crush on you. But, I'm afraid."

Harry turns off the TV to focus on you. "Afraid of what, Y/n?" he asks, "We both like each other. What's there to fear?"

"It's not that simple, Harry," you respond with a hint of frustration. Why can't he see your concerns? Maybe it's a gender difference. Men don't worry about relationships as much as women do. Well at least from your personal experiences.

"Can you explain then, please? I want to understand your fears so we can move forward in a way that works for both of us."

Shifting uncomfortably on the bed, you express, "Harry, what if things don't work out between us? What happens then? I could lose a friend and I might not have enough money to cover regular rent in London."

"Y/n, our mutual feelings don't automatically require us to rush into a romantic relationship. We can proceed at a comfortable pace, one day at a time. Even if we don't progress beyond friendship, I value our bond too much to risk losin' it. As for your concern about losin' a place to stay, rest assure that I would never evict you if things don't work out romantically. You were my housemate first and foremost, and that won't change. Well, unless you want to move out someday that is."

Hearing his words have made your eyes gloss over. You can hear the sincerity in his voice and it makes your heart swell. But, you still need some clarification to move forward. "So like, where do we go from here, Harry? I don't want to think we're one thing but you assume we're something else. I don't want to constantly be questioning where we stand. What's too much or what's not enough."

Harry adjusts his posture, leaning closer to you. He carefully reaches out for your hands and clasps them within his larger grasp, holding them gently as he begins to speak. "As I mentioned earlier, Y/n, we can take this slow. Let our connection develop naturally. At this moment, I would describe our relationship as friends, but friends who share mutual emotions. And in response to a question I know you may have, no, I will not be sleepin' with anyone else. And I don't expect..."

Anticipating his next words, you swiftly interject, "No, neither am I. I mean, being involved with someone else intimately. I can promise you that. Besides, I never truly enjoyed having one-night stands. I only sought them out as a means to conceal my feelings for you. But now that my feelings are out in the open, there's no reason to hide them any longer. From now on I only want you."

Chuckling in relief, Harry murmurs, "Just me, huh?" He was incredibly anxious that you might still have the desire to sleep with other people, even though that didn't make much sense after you had confessed your feelings for him. However, he couldn't be entirely certain.

You lean forward, wrapping your arms around Harry's body, embracing him tightly. "Of course, Harry. I would never do that to you. Besides, most of the men I slept with were unsatisfactory, so I'm perfectly fine with giving up my one-night stands."

Harry reciprocates the embrace, then teasingly asks, "Unsatisfactory? Are you tellin' me those muscular, macho men you brought home hardly ever satisfied you?"

You respond, your voice filled with affection against his neck, "That's right. And when they did, it was usually because I was thinking of you."

"Alright, let's end that conversation right here or we'll have a problem on our hands and break our 'takin' it slow' rule." Harry remarks, trying to maintain a sense of caution. If you kept talking about how you always thought of him while having sex with all those strangers, he'd get hard in his pants and he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable right now. Nor does he want to move that fast. Like he said, he genuinely would like to take whatever you are, slow.

You laugh at his words and playfully say, "Can we take a nap? I'm feeling tired. Didn't get much sleep last night."

Harry nods in the embrace you still hold and replies, "Yeah, we can take a nap if you'd like. I didn't get much sleep last night either."

As you sit up, you carefully shift towards Harry's side where he's preparing a space for you to rest. "Seriously?" you inquire. Although you noticed his exhaustion when he entered the kitchen earlier, you didn't consider that it might be due to a lack of sleep.

"Yeah," Harry begins to coo while helping you under his duvet, "felt awful with how I spoke to you last night. The guilt ate me alive and I couldn't sleep."

Now laying side by side, facing each other, you whisper out, "Awe, well you can rest easy now. I forgive you." As your eyes flutter shut, Harry can't help but think about how you're too far away from him. Even though you're literally just six inches apart in reality.

So without thinking, he draws himself closer to you and wraps you in his arms. Which in turn has you pressed up against his clothed chest. "Is this alright?" Harry whispers quietly. Although he wishes to take things slowly, cuddling is typically considered a leisurely activity, isn't it? It remains innocent and platonic.

"Yes, very much alright." you reply and soon after fall asleep. The musky smell Harry produces along with the warmth of his body lulls you right to sleep. It may be only nine in the morning but with your lack of sleep the night before, have no trouble falling unconscious.

Harry also falls into a deep slumber. The comfort of having you in his arms lulls him into a state of relaxation, leading him to quickly doze off. His cat Pixie has now settled at the foot of the bed, peacefully asleep alongside you both. Harry's once anxious room is now filled with tranquility. The unfolding of your friendship will become more apparent when you wake up later today.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @allthelovehes // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe140  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran

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______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

A Shift Occurs {part 4.} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

[coconut-dreamz]

you're losing me

'how long can we be a sad song' || tom blyth x reader

part two

a/n: i felt angsty and i love this song so i wanted to write something based off of it

you say, "i don't understand, " and i say, "i know you don't" we thought a cure would come through in time, now i fear it won't

the fights felt as if they were never ending lately. it hadn't always been this way, but that felt like a lifetime ago. the problems had started when tom began filming for tbosas but they had ceased when filming for it wrapped. but your relationship wasn't the same as it was before. now it was time for promotions and the fights had started up once again.

"i don't understand! why do we keep having to have this fight over and over again!" tom shouted. you scoff in disbelief at his outburst. he didn't know why you felt so insecure and jealous? it wasn't like you had told him at least a dozen times before.

"you know what, just go on your tour alone. i don't want to ruin it with our fighting." you resign, taking your already packed suitcase back into the apartment, away from the door. "you should go, the cab's waiting." you tell him quietly, unable to look up from the ground.

he just sighs, "alright, i'll see you in a few weeks." staring at you, waiting for you to look up at him. " have a safe flight," you look up at him, but refuse to meet his eyes. he just thanks you and heads out the door.

remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light now, I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time do I throw out everything we built or keep it?

you sat in the dark room of your shared apartment with tom. you had picked it because of the view of the city lights, but now it just felt cold and desolate, like nobody lived here. in all honesty, it hadn't been lived in for awhile. with tom gone for movie promotions, you hadn't been able to be here alone, opting to stay with a friend instead.

you don't know where to go from here. should you salvage what remained of your relationship with tom? or should you scrap everything and start new?

the latter choice had been seeming more and more appealing as of late. you hadn't heard from tom in days. at first you chalked it up to him being busy and the time difference, but you saw he posted a new croissant review and realized he was ignoring you. where had it all gone wrong?

i'm getting tired even for a phoenix always risin' from the ashes mendin' all her gashes you might just have dealt the final blow

you had made the mistake of watching one of tom's latest interviews with his costar rachel. you watched it because you'd missed him, but now that you'd watched it, you wished you just stayed missing him. you didn't miss the way they looked at each other. it'd been so long since you'd looked at each other like that. your eyes were always filled with rage or tears whenever you saw him lately.

you were just so tired of it all. you contemplated texting him and breaking things off. it'd be a whole lot easier that way. maybe the weight on your chest would be lifted. but a part of you didn't want to let go of him. he'd been your everything once.

stop, you're losin' me i can't find a pulse my heart won't start anymore for you 'cause you're losin' me

"how are you baby?" tom asks, his voice cutting through the silence, breaking you out of your reverie. he managed to find some time to call you while on his press tour. "huh? oh, i'm fine. how are you? how's press tour going?" you ask absentmindedly, hearing you ask about tour sparked a light in tom's eyes. he started rambling about the antics he and his cast mates had been up to.

you smiled fondly hearing him talk, until he mentioned rachel. she'd been a sore spot in your relationship lately. the mere mention of her name left a sour taste in your mouth. the grin on your face immediately swept off.

"it's getting late, i think i'm gonna go to bed. i hope the rest of your tour goes well," you fake a smile, trying to hurry to end the facetime call. "oh, i guess it is late over there. i love you, sleep well.” he bids you a goodnight. "love you," you reply and end the call. you bury yourself in your blankets, tired of the emotional turmoil that was caused by your relationship lately.

every mornin', i glared at you with storms in my eyes how can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'? i sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick my face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick

you'd lost the glow your skin once had. it'd became increasingly noticeable to those around you. your makeup artist had to try harder to make it less noticeable on red carpets and photo shoots. but it was all in vain, everyone noticed how you'd looked sickly lately, everyone but tom.

or, if he did, he didn't mention anything about it. "you look great." he complimented as you two climbed into the car that was to take you to the premiere of his film. it had taken your makeup artist a lot longer than usual to do your makeup, having to cover up the blemishes and gray tone of your skin from the lack of care you'd given yourself lately. you’d been opting to lay around in bed, moping.

"thanks," you mutter as the car begins to move. you picked at your nails, something you'd picked up lately to help deal with your nerves. you no longer could have any type of nails, you'd bit them down to nubs lately. but tom didn't seem to have noticed. he didn't seem to notice anything about you lately.

and the air is thick with loss and indecision i know my pain is such an imposition now, you're runnin' down the hallway and you know what they all say you don't know what you got until it's gone

"stop! where are you going?" shit. you stop dead in your tracks, tom was home early for once. you'd thought he wouldn't back for another day or two. "did you hear me?" he makes his way in front of you. you try avoiding his gaze, but it was difficult when his icy blue eyes stared into your soul.

you tried to formulate the words to tell him it was over. "i'm leaving." you finally managed to say. his concerned eyes turn frantic at your words. "what?" he whispers out, grabbing your hand. "you're leaving? why?" you take a breath, you tried leaving when he was gone because you couldn't face him. "things haven't been the same lately. i think we need a break. i'm going to stay with a friend. i'll come back for the rest of my things later. i think it's best if we don't talk for awhile." you manage out, finally meeting his eyes.

what a mistake. his previously concerned eyes were now filled with sadness. you tried moving past him to your car. he grabs your hand one more time, "can you at least tell me what's wrong?" you sigh hearing this, "i think you know why, tom." is all you answer, dragging your suitcase behind you.

how long could we be a sad song 'til we were too far gone to bring back to life? i gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy and all i did was bleed as i tried to be the bravest soldier fighting in only your army frontlines , don't you ignore me

it'd been a few weeks since you'd moved out of your shared apartment with tom. you felt relieved when you had finally walked out of the apartment. it had been feeling less like a home and more like a prison lately. you felt stuck in time in there. everyone around you was moving forward their lives, your friends, family and especially tom, but there you were. stuck waiting around for tom to give you the time of day.

you'd spend too long waiting around for your relationship to go back to how it once was. you'd given that relationship your all but got the bare minimum back in return. you should've called time of death on it months ago, but a big part of you wasn't ready to let go. you had spent your best years with him after all.

and i wouldn't marry me either a pathological people pleaser who only wanted you to see her

you and tom used to talk about the future all the time. laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling and giggling about your thoughts on what the future had in store. you told him about your dream wedding and he told you about how he wanted a cozy home with a big yard for your future children.

but that seemed so far in the past. you suppose he changed his mind. who'd want to marry a person who'd give every piece of themselves for someone who won't even bat an eye at them? you'd given him your all in the last year of your relationship, but had gotten nothing in return. all in an attempt to bring back what you both once had.

and i'm fadin', thinkin' "do something, babe, say something" "lose something, babe, risk something" "choose something, babe, i got nothing to believe unless you're choosin' me"

you laid in the makeshift bed of your friend’s studio apartment waiting for tom to reach out. you were aware of what you had told him, but you wanted to see if he truly did care about your relationship.

it hurt to see him happy on set of billy the kid. you followed his castmates and it hurt to see the snippets of him on their stories. he looked so happy and carefree. the exact opposite of how you were feeling and probably looked.

you hoped he was just respecting your wishes of having no contact for a few weeks, but the small voice in the back of your mind was screaming that he didn't care. that he was happier without you, that he was better off now that you were gone.

you're losin' me stop, you're losin' me stop, you're losin' me i can't find a pulse my heart won't start anymore

a constant buzzing woke you up from your deep sleep. you blindly search for your phone. when you find it, the clock shows that it's exactly 12 in the morning. you hit answer without looking at the contact. "hello?" you answer, your voice raspy from lack of use.

"love? it's me, tom. it's been exactly 6 weeks like you said. can we finally talk?"

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

I feel like cowboy has a background in crisis management or hostage negotiations, he’d be Quantico’s finest silver tongue. But maybe when he first arrived on the BAU team hotch seemed to doubt his abilities and wouldn’t give him the chance to prove he’s more than just a sharp shooter - maybe bc Strauss really pushed to have him put into the team in the first place so hotch is keeping cowboy at arms length

- 🦕

I'm aware this is slightly very unrealistic but ya know, it's fiction. I picture Jackson as a scared kid with a bad past

Also I didn't mean to post it so yeah hopefully it's okay lmao

Directly followed from this.

Warnings: guns, hostage negotiations, untrusting team

Taglist: @xweirdo101x @xdark-acadamiax @ara-a-bird @heidss @chubbyboyinflannel @pendragon-writes @migwayne @bigolgay @technikerin23 @supercriminalbean @honestlycasualarcade @caffeine-mess @1s3v3n1 @oddmiles @kevyeen @stealing-kneecaps @criminalskies @woodandwaxwings @anonstories08

"Let me do this." You and the team had managed to track down the kid who was doing this, when the police had surrounded the diner, he had felt trapped and pulled out a weapon. You wanted to be the one who negotiated with him, who talked him down. You could relate to him.

All of this stemmed from a scared kid who had no one left. He was left to deal with everything on his own, left to deal with the death of his father, abandoned by the system with no justice, so he took it into his own hands.

"Why should I let you do this when I have Rossi here?"

"Because I understand the kid." You answer, "And I was damn good at my job which is why Strauss recommended me for the position,"

Hotch stares at you for a moment and you stare back, you weren't going to let him intimidate you. Or even think that he can intimidate you. He nods slightly and you turn to the phone.

"Jackson? You there?"

"I'm here."

"I'm Agent (L/N)," You introduced, "You can call me (Y/N). I'm here to make sure everything gets sorted out,"

"You don't care. They don't fucking care!" Jackson yells, "No one fucking cares! No one cares that he's dead! No one cares that someone killed him! No one cares!"

"Hey, we care. That's why we're here, ain't it?"

"No, you're here so I don't go down in a rain of bullets."

"I hate to break it to you kid, that's not why I'm here." You answered, "It might be why the others are here, I'm here to make sure you don't do somethin' stupid. Somethin' you're gonna regret for years."

"You don't fucking get it!" Jackson shouts over the phone.

"Hey, hey, I get it," You kept your voice understanding, "It's tough, losin' someone you love."

"Yeah, and what would you know?"

"I- I lost my Mama at an early age, my biological Mama," You said, your voice crackling over the phone. "Everyone thought I was too young to understand, too young to remember, like twelve year olds can't think for 'emselves, y'know? N I remember bein' so angry that no one even thought to just sit me down and talk. And that's why I'm here, Jackson, I'm here to talk, to help."

"If you want to help, come inside. If you come inside, I'll let everyone go. I'll talk with you. But no one else. No one else sets foot in this building." Jackson paused for breath, "And no guns."

You nod, "Okay. That's just fine, we'll do that." As soon as your hand is off the button, Hotch is shaking his head.

"No."

"Sir, I get it, I'm the new guy, but I know what I'm doin'." You said strongly. "Just let me prove myself."

Hotch studied you for a moment before nodding. "You have five minutes."

"Thank you, sir," With that, you placed your gun in Hotch’s hand before making your way into the building (after they fit a wire).

When you get in, the hostages run out. At the very least you would be the only casualty if this went south.

"Hey kid," You said softly, sliding in one of the booths, Jackson hesitantly sat opposite you, his gun firmly aimed at you.

"This has to be some kind of trick."

"I want to help you."

"Do you have a wire?"

"Yes." You answer honestly, Jackson looks at you for a moment before nodding.

"You weren't supposed to tell me that, was you?"

You shook your head, "Nope." You answered, "But I did - for two reasons, I need you to feel like you trust me - and that requires my honesty - and I honestly think at this rate I might get fired, so it don't matter all that much anyway."

"That's ballsy," Jackson commented and you gave a small laugh.

"N what? Bein' an FBI agent isn't?"

Jackson laughed before sobering up, "Why are you being nice to me?"

"Because you're a kid." You shrugged, "You've had it tough, but if you work hard, and face the consequences of your actions, you can come out the other end of this better."

"How? Everyone already treats me like I'm some lowlife. How can I possibly change that if no one is willing to give me a chance?"

"I'm willin' to give you a chance. I'm willin' to help." You said, "All you need to do to show me that you're willin' to change is to give me the gun n walk out there with me n show me that you're willin' to put in the time."

Jackson studies you for a moment before he nods, placing the gun on the table and sliding it towards you. You take it, emptying it of bullets - placing the gun in one pocket and the bullets in another. "Okay." He whispers softly. "I want to change. I want to be better."

"Then that's all that matters kid, fuck everyone else." You said, "Come on, let's go set things right, yeah?"

"Yeah... Okay..." He says hesitantly as he stands from the booth.

"Facin' the consequences of your actions are never easy," You said as you also stood, "But it's how you react to realisin' you made a mistake that determines the type of person you are."

Jackson nods, squaring his shoulders before leading the way out of the building with his hands raised. You give him a nod of encouragement as he gets into the police car.

You turn to Hotch, "Sorted." You answer before climbing into the SUV.

"He's good, I'll give him that..." Rossi mumbles before joining you in the car. "Good job, Kid."

"Thanks."

[reds-writings]

can you write Cooper Howard with a gn reader i’ll take anything in desperate 🙏🙏🙏

(pairing: the ghoul/cooper howard x gn!reader)

a/n: thank you for the request anon! i used this opportunity to get a feel for writing his character as a practice run so i hope this is to your liking! feedback is greatly appreciated!

warnings: cursing, petnames(?), violence, cooper is a meanie as per usual, etc

word count: roughly 1.1k

“I told your ass he’s mine!” You grunted as a result of harshly landing on your ass for cover in the middle of a truly unnecessary shootout smackdab in Filly.

“You snooze you lose, sweetheart.” Came the lazy drawl of the irradiated cowboy, also known as the absolute bane of your existence, somewhere afar behind his own cover amidst this gunfight. Bounty hunting was already a tough business as is but with the infamous Ghoul who somehow always managed to sniff out where you were to swipe nearly every potential bounty from under your feet, things had started to get fucking ridiculous. 

You were low enough on caps and supplies to where you couldn’t let this tired routine repeat itself once more. Safe to say, you were pissed. 

“Who said anything about snoozin’ or losin’, you fuckin’ radioactive WORM-” You shot at another one of your bounty’s backups before popping out to switch cover.

Bullets riddled the dirt far too close to your feet for your liking before you slid behind an old rundown wagon. All you needed was the damned fella’s head to bring in should you get to him first. How was it any fair that you put in all the work to track these shitheads down and all the Ghoul had to do was follow you right to the goods? Never even lifting a wrinkly finger? No matter how much you tried to throw him off your scent between jobs it was just no use. 

“You best give up now fore’ I put a bullet between those lovely eyes of yours.” Rang his voice again and you wanted to gag like a petulant child. 

“You can take that weird flirtin’ of yours and shove it up your shriveled ass!”

“You think too highly of yourself, sweetheart,” His gun fired off a few loud rounds, “Give up or I’m fuckin’ shootin’ the shit outta you both. Maybe then I'll finally know peace.” More shots zipped by and it appeared his feigned sense of patience was running thin. This cat-and-mouse game seemed to bore him quicker than usual today. 

“Go fuck yourself, cowpoke. You should be able to manage just fine without this one given you’ve nabbed all the others, lazy bastard-” Wood splintered next to your head in that instant. His patience had definitely boiled over but, like a fool, it didn’t deter you in the slightest. You managed to catch a glimpse of the bounty scurrying closer toward an empty saloon to escape. It was now or never.

Grabbing a grenade from one of the corpses nearby you pulled the pin and hauled it with a quick prayer to whoever was listening in the general direction of the Ghoul. You heard a sharp curse and couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you bolted towards the escapee. The resulting explosion of your last ditch effort almost threw you off your feet but you regained momentum quickly with whatever adrenaline-driven desperation you had left. 

It wasn't long before the thwip! of a rope and a violent tug around your ankles dashed all of your hope and short-lived triumph. As well as all the air from your lungs as soon as your tired body slammed to the ground. 

Jagged rock and debris from the Filly dirt bit at your skin as your competitor pulled you towards him like you were a helpless calf caught for slaughter. The anger rolling from him in waves caused by petty inconvenience could’ve had smoke billowing from his ears. If you had any sense you’d start being terrified right about now.

Though, you figured you wouldn’t have to worry about caps anymore if he just finished you off.

“I’ve had just about enough of you. Always gettin’ in my fuckin’ way.” He yanked you close enough to straddle you with a rusted knife to your throat. He wanted to make this personal now. 

“Can’t blame me for tryin’ to survive-” You wheezed as he landed an unforgiving blow to your stomach. He could be a real mean bastard when he wanted to. 

“Quit yappin’.” The ghoul snarled with yellowing teeth and a burning hatred that would have just about anyone else withering away. Up close he wasn’t all that bad looking for what most would dub a monster. Maybe you’d hit the ground too hard.  

“Circlin’ back to pretty eyes…you sure got some yourself for a ghoul n’ all-” Another blow had a flash of stars bursting across your vision. That fucker broke your nose! Seems like snarky jibes from him were fine all day long but sue you for getting one in yourself. 

Before he could decide to jam that knife of his in your throat, a series of hacking coughs erupted from his chest causing his hold on you to momentarily weaken. Looks like his desperation for this bounty came from a lack of Radaway to keep his sorry ass alive.

That was too fucking bad. 

Taking the interruption as your chance, you spit a generous glob of red-hot blood into those pretty eyes and swung a hefty rock at his scarred head. He fell to the ground with a bark of surprise but that didn’t stop you from hitting him again until you made sure he was out cold. 

With your chest heaving, you wiped your forearm beneath your dripping nose and winced. You'd have to reset it later.

Why did everything always have to be so difficult? Fighting this hard for anything these days was hard to be justified for a life like this but the cycle would go on. Pathetic as it was. Looking down at your reddened and dusty clothes you groaned knowing that a bargain for anything decent would be a pain in the ass. 

Your ears perked up at a scuffle nearby. The bounty was still trying to make a run for it. Of course. Taking the rifle from the knocked-out cowboy you aimed from a distance before blowing the runaway to bits and pieces. Job mostly well done. Now you needed to get the hell out of dodge before sleeping beauty came to. 

Rummaging through your bag you found a spare vial of Radaway. If you left it for him he’d probably forgo the more than generous gesture and just be hellbent on eliminating you like he’d originally intended. But, what fun would it be if the only consistent figure in your day-to-day died in the most underwhelming way possible? You needed a reason to fight. That was all. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Rolling your eyes with a huff you flicked the vial at his unconscious form, not really caring where it landed before making your way to retrieve the pesky bounty's noggin and head on to the next town. You’d need to make quick work without any stops tonight lest you wanted to tango with Grumpy again but you'd manage.

He’d find you one way or another, that was a given. But you’d sure as hell be ready. 

[daryltwdixon]

The Promise of Us: Chapter 11

warnings: violence against mfc, also im so sorry for my terrible writing when it comes to action scenes.

You

The door creaks open, and your stomach twists with dread, thinking the tall man–the Governor–is back. But when your eyes come up and meet the icy blue ones at the door, your shoulder slump just an inch. You’re still unsure when Merle comes walking in the room, but it's still a relief to see him. What if after all this time, the pain you caused Daryl all those years ago was still fresh in his mind. And he was going to take it out on you now?

“Well, well, well... ain’t this somethin’.” Merle’s gravelly voice cuts through the silence, dripping with his usual sarcasm. The door slams shut behind him, and he saunters into the room, his boots scuffing the floor as he approaches.

He’s standing there, grinning like he’s just won something, but his eyes flicker with something else—something softer, buried deep beneath that rough exterior. He won’t show it outright, of course. Not Merle.

“Didn’t expect to see you here, sweetheart,” he drawls, crossing his arms as he leans casually against the wall, his metal prosthetic gleaming under the bright lights above you, “Guess you couldn’t stay outta trouble, huh?”

You don’t answer, but you can feel his eyes on you, scanning for any sign of weakness. There’s a teasing gleam in his eyes, but there’s something else too. Relief, maybe? It’s hard to tell with him.

“Still playin’ the silent type, huh?” Merle chuckles, shaking his head. “Ain’t nothin’ changed since I last saw ya.” His voice softens just a fraction, barely noticeable. “Thought maybe you were smarter than this—gettin’ yourself caught up with the wrong people.”

You roll your eyes, but the tension doesn’t leave your body. “Could say the same about you,” you mutter, refusing to give him the satisfaction of rising to his bait.

He chuckles, low and rough. “These guys found me when I was in a real rough state, honey.” He takes a step closer, his usual swagger a little less pronounced, but his grin doesn’t falter. “Hell, look at us—reunited like some kinda twisted family reunion. Shame little brother ain’t here to see it.”

At the mention of Daryl, your stomach tightens. You wonder if Merle knows he’s alive, but his expression doesn’t give anything away. He steps closer, his eyes flicking to the ropes still around your wrists.

“You look like hell, girl,” he says, his tone rough but lacking the bite it usually has. “Guess I’ll have to keep your ass outta trouble, huh?”

You snort. “Don’t need your help.”

He smirks, amused. “Sure you don’t.” His gaze lingers on you, just for a second too long, before he shakes his head and looks away. “Lucky for you, I got some pull ‘round here. Ain’t nobody gonna mess with ya while I’m around.”

You found that hard to believe when you still felt the ghost of the breath on your neck from the man who just left minutes ago. Merle moves to the chair in the corner, dragging it noisily across the floor as he plops down into it. He kicks his feet up on the table like he owns the place, leaning back with that signature cocky grin plastered on his face.

“So,” he says, crossing his arms behind his head, his voice a little too casual, “you gonna tell me how the hell you ended up here, or am I gonna have to drag it outta ya?”

You glare at him, refusing to answer. He just laughs, shaking his head like you’re a joke he’s enjoying too much.

“Fine, fine. Keep your secrets, sweetheart,” he says, his voice softening again, almost affectionate, though you know better than to take it at face value, “But don’t think I’m lettin’ you outta my sight. Ain’t no way I’m losin’ you again. My brother would kill me,”

Something stirs in your chest at his words—just for a second, the familiar warmth of the Merle you once knew. Despite all his rough edges, all the damage he’d done, a part of you still cared for him like family. He was, after all, someone you’d loved like a brother, even with his many flaws. He never wanted you to leave for college back then, never wanted Daryl to be stuck alone at home with their father.

But that was a lifetime ago.

Now, things were different. Merle was in a strange position of power here—dangerous, unpredictable. He wasn’t the same man you once knew. Sweet or not, there was an edge to his words, a darkness behind his smile that made your skin crawl. He was too unhinged to be fully trusted, even if his words tugged at memories of who he used to be.

“Merle,” you whisper, your eyes on his, “Where are Glenn and Maggie?”

He looks down with a smug smile, “Now, girl. You gotta understand, the Chinese kid wasn’t playin’ very fair back there. Wouldn’t tell me where he’s camped out. You’re with em, right?” 

“He’s Korean, asshole,” you roll your eyes, but sigh, thinking of the state they must be in nearby, looking to the wall as if you could see them through it, bloodied and bruised, and hang your head.

“Y/N,” he calls gently, and your eyes come up to him again with tears in them, “you know where my brother is, don’t ya?” it’s barely a question, just a statement. 

Your chin trembles, but you nod slowly. The weight of everything—the capture, the fear, the thought of Glenn and Maggie—sits heavy in your chest. And now, the mention of Daryl brings a wave of guilt and longing crashing over you. You can’t hide it from Merle, not now.

Merle’s smug smile falters, just for a second. He leans forward, his eyes narrowing. “Figured as much,” he grumbles, the rasp in his voice rougher now, “But you ain’t said nothin’ ‘bout him. Why’s that?”

“Why do you think, Merle?” you snap back, your voice shaking. “You think I want to talk to you about Daryl? You think I wanna tell you how he’s doin’? Look where I’m fuckin’ sitting,”

Merle’s grin fades entirely now, the cocky veneer slipping. He looks at you with a hard expression, but something else flickers in his eyes—regret, maybe, or something close to it.

You swallow hard, blinking back the tears that are threatening to spill over. “You don’t know him like you used to, Merle. He’s different now. Stronger, yeah, but… he’s got people who care about him, who depend on him.”

“And you’re one of ‘em, huh?” Merle leans back in the chair, crossing his arms, his tone unreadable. “You two always had a way of stickin’ close. What’s the deal now, huh? You finally screw my little brother or what?”

You don’t answer, just shake your head, rolling your eyes again. You’d almost forgotten how much Merle could give you a headache with the constant eye-rolling his words provoked.

“God, Merle, you’ve really always had a way with words,” you mutter, your sarcasm laced with the frustration you can’t fully hide.

“Aw, baby, I miss’d ya too,” he chuckles, leaning back in his chair with that familiar grin, clearly enjoying himself.

A long silence follows, stretching between you. Merle may be taking it easy, but your mind is racing. You weren’t going to get out of here in one piece, maybe not even alive, if you left it up to The Governor. You can feel time slipping through your fingers. You had to figure out where the other two were, and fast. Your pulse quickens as you glance at Merle again. He may be toying with you, but he’s your only chance. Could you trust him again? Even after all this time? This world changed people. You just hoped Merle still had loyalty to you and his brother.

“Where are they, Merle?” you ask again, this time more urgently. “Glenn and Maggie. What’s he gonna do to them?”

Merle shifts in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck. “The boss wants info. Where your camp is, who’s left. Kid wasn’t spillin’ nothin’. Pretty girl’s tougher than she looks too. They’re holdin’ up, but… let’s just say the clock’s tickin’.”

Your heart races. Time is running out, and you know what that means for Glenn and Maggie. For all of them.

“You gotta help me get them out,” you whisper, leaning forward, your voice pleading. “You can’t let him hurt them.”

Merle chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “And what exactly do I get outta that? Huh?”

You hesitate, the weight of what you’re about to suggest pressing down on you. “If you help me get them out safely… I’ll take you to Daryl. I’ll tell you where our camp is.”

Merle’s face hardens, the grin disappearing completely. He stands slowly, pacing a few steps away from you, his mind working over what you just said. The promise of seeing his brother again, after all this time… it’s almost too much for him to process. But then, something darker creeps into his expression, a shadow of doubt.

“And how do I know you ain’t gonna screw me over the second you’re outta here? You’re clever, Y/N. Always were.” He turns to you, his eyes cold. “What’s to stop you from runnin’ back to lil’ brother and leavin’ ol’ Merle to fend for himself?”

You meet his gaze, the fear in your chest almost choking you, but you push it down. You need him. “You know I’m not that kind of person,” you whisper. “And if we don’t get out, you’ll never see him again. We need each other right now, Merle. You know that.”

He watches you for a long moment, the gears turning in his head. Then, with a heavy sigh, he leans against the wall, his arms crossed, the knife at the end of his bionic arm reflecting the fluorescents above you, “Alright, girl,” he drawls, the cockiness returning just a little. “We got ourselves a deal. But you better not be lyin’, ‘cause I’m doin’ this for him.”

Relief floods through you, but it’s short-lived. There’s still one more obstacle to overcome.

“If we’re gonna do this… it has to look real,” you say quietly, your voice trembling.

Merle’s smirk fades, his eyes narrowing as he takes in your words. “What’re you sayin’?”

“I’m sayin’… if you don’t make this look like you interrogated me, he’ll know something’s up,” you explain, your stomach twisting. “The Governor. He can’t suspect you’re helpin’ me.”

Merle’s face hardens again, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something close to pain in his eyes. “I've never been afraid of my baby brother, ya know,  but he would kill me if I hurt ya, baby,” he says, his voice rougher, more strained.

“It doesn’t matter, Merle,” you say, your own voice unsteady but firm. You can see Daryl’s pained eyes behind your own now, the way he always hated seeing you hurt, but you sigh as you continue, “Neither of us will ever see him again if you don’t make this look legit.”

He stares at you for a long moment, and you can see the conflict in his eyes. For all his bravado, you know this is weighing on him—hurting you, even just for show, is too much, but that's more than he’s ready to admit. But he also knows you’re right. If the Governor doesn’t buy it, they’re all as good as dead.

Merle swallows, the lines on his face deepening as he nods slowly, understanding settling in. “Alright,” he mutters, his voice low and grim. “But don’t expect me to enjoy it.”

You nearly scoff, a small wry smile coming to your lips, “Please, the amount of times I kicked you in the nuts growin’ up, I’ll consider it Karma comin’ back to get me,”

❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥

Daryl

The sun has completely dipped below the horizon now, leaving only the pale light of the moon to cut through the suffocating darkness around them. The group moves quietly, swiftly, weaving through the maze of abandoned cars that lie scattered ahead of the imposing gates. Daryl’s heart pounds, the tension in his muscles building as they creep closer to the towering walls of Woodbury. The walls loom large, casting long, intimidating shadows in the moonlight. There had to be a way in. There’s movement behind him, and the woman that was with them is off, slithering through the dark, keeping in the shadows. Rick tries to call after her in a hiss, but it’s no use. She’s gone.

“Dammit,” he whispers, backing up between Oscar and Daryl, “alright, we need to downsize,”

“Ain’t no way we’re gonna check in all them buildings,” Daryl says quietly, “not with all them guards there,” he looks up to watch the men walking back and forth, surveying. But then, a twig snaps behind them and they all turn quickly. The woman–Michonne, is back. Oscar, Rick, and Daryl all look at each other, and nod to follow her. 

Slinking through the darkness, keeping up with the shadows, they make their way forward.

❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥

You

The pain reverberating in your head has only climbed higher with each punch Merle’s thrown. His fist connects again with your jaw, and you feel a sharp crack, a new wave of agony shooting through your face. Your cheekbone throbs, the skin hot and swollen where his knuckles landed hard.

Merle steps back for a second, his breathing heavy, looking down at you with a mix of frustration and regret. His face hardens, though you catch the brief flicker of guilt in his eyes. “Ain’t no other way,” he mutters under his breath, almost like he’s convincing himself. “You know this. We gotta sell it.”

You nod, swallowing down the taste of blood pooling in your mouth. You both know the plan—the Governor can't suspect anything. If you don’t look the part, this whole thing could blow up in both your faces. But knowing doesn’t make it hurt any less.

He throws another punch, this time aiming for your gut. The impact is brutal, forcing the air from your lungs with a sharp gasp. You double over instinctively, feeling the bruises already forming beneath your skin, every muscle aching from the force of it.

“Sorry,” he growls, his voice low and hoarse, his hand shaking just slightly as he pulls it back again. He hesitates, and for a split second, you can see the war waging inside him—this isn't easy for him, either. But you nod again, pushing through the pain, urging him to finish what he started.

His fist comes down one more time, connecting with your cheekbone. The blow sends a sharp, white-hot flash through your vision, the skin splitting under his knuckles. You can barely keep your eyes straight, vision blurring as you blink, your hands instinctively twitching, wanting to fly to the side of your face where the impact hit hardest.

Merle steps back, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his expression unreadable now. “That’s enough,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. He lowers his fists, his hands trembling slightly. “It’s gotta look real—but it ain’t gotta kill ya.”

Your body aches, every movement sending shockwaves of pain rippling through you, but you straighten up as much as you can. Blood trickles from the corner of your mouth, dripping down your chin, and you know you look the part now—battered, beaten, broken.

He steps closer, not with the same aggression but with something softer in his eyes. He grips your shoulder with his hand, helping you steady yourself, even though you wince at the touch. “You good?” he asks, voice low and rough, barely audible.

You nod, spitting out a mouthful of blood, trying to breathe through the throbbing ache. You swear you see him flinch at the idea of hurting you, but he cups your face in his one good hand, his palm under your chin. With his thumb on your cheek and forefinger under your jaw, he lifts your head to get a good look at your face, “Well–nothin that will change the way you look once you’re all healed– think Daryl would kill me if I did anything to that face,” he pauses, a grin ghosting over his features and your eyes meet his, tired and resigned.

But that’s when you see it—the apology, the regret etched in his hardened eyes, a flicker of the brother you once knew. “Really am sorry, darlin’,” he mutters, his voice gravelly and low. And he drops your face and leaves the room without another word.

❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥

Daryl

They move quickly through the darkened buildings, and after running into a Woodbury citizen in the first one, they finally make their way out into the town. Gunfire cracks through the air, coming from across the way. Daryl’s pulse quickens as they press into the shadows of the houses, peeking around corners. Firelight flickers off the streets, casting a glow from a bonfire, and Daryl can just make out what looks to be a main building. It looks more authoritarian than the others, which are all smaller houses and old refurbished shops. The group stills while he checks around the corner, and on his OK and they fly through the streets unseen, and slip into the building. Filing down the halls with stealth between shadows, through the maze of metal walls and supplies, they come to a barrier, and crouch quickly when they hear voices.

“...Glad we could catch up,” a voice echoes from the other side of the wall, footsteps and orders coming in a rush. They’re in the way. No time. Daryl throws the flashbangs, the hallway bursting into chaos. Smoke billows, and they charge in with weapons raised.

Daryl grabs Maggie’s arm as Rick pulls Glenn. There’s gunshots, shouting, utter chaos, but they got them. There’s no stopping—no room for hesitation. Daryl’s stomach knots as they sprint toward the exit. Y/N’s not here. Not with them. He can’t find her in the smoke. His mind screams to panic, but he shoves it down. Not now.

Once back outside, they hug the walls, slipping through the shadows like ghosts.

“Inside, quick!” Rick hisses when they hit the town square, all of them squeezing into a cramped shed.

Daryl drops Maggie’s arm and heads to the back, searching for a way out. He runs his hand along the wall but comes up short. “Ain’t no way out back here,” he growls.

Behind him, Maggie’s voice trembles. “Rick, how did you find us?”

Rick ignores the question, his eyes coming around to Glenn. “How bad are you hurt?”

“I’ll be alright,” Glenn mumbles, his voice thick with pain. Daryl gets a clear look at him now—shirtless, one eye swollen shut, blood dripping down his battered face. It twists something deep inside Daryl. Glenn looks barely able to move.

“Where’s that woman?” Maggie blurts, her face pale, eyes blown wide in terror. Daryl’s eyes scan the group. They’re one short.

Rick’s jaw tightens. “She was right behind us.”

Daryl’s heart hammers as he steps forward, voice sharp. “Was Y/N with y’all when you were taken?”

Both Maggie and Glenn shake their heads. Daryl’s stomach drops. His mind claws for hope—maybe she’s still out there. Maybe she made it to the woods. He swallows hard, praying she did.

“Daryl–” Glenn says suddenly, his voice cutting through the room, loud and raw. “This was Merle.”

Daryl freezes, the words not registering at first. He stares at Glenn, wide-eyed.

“It was him,” Glenn repeats, scowling. “He did this.”

Daryl blinks, trying to catch his breath. “You saw ‘em?” Rick asks, his voice taut.

“Face to face,” Glenn nods, anger simmering beneath his bruises. “Threw a walker at me—was gonna execute us.”

Daryl’s mind reels. “So—so my brother’s this governor?” The words feel wrong in his mouth, like he can’t believe he’s saying them.

Maggie answers, shaking her head. “No. It’s somebody else. Your brother’s his lieutenant or something.”

“Does he know I’m still with you?” Daryl asks, disbelief creeping into his voice.

“He does now,” Glenn growls. “Rick, I’m sorry, we told him where the prison was. We couldn’t hold out—”

Rick cuts him off, shaking his head. “Don’t. No need to apologize.”

The conversation shifts around Daryl, but he can’t focus. They’re getting Glenn to his feet, talking about their next move, but Daryl’s thoughts are spinning—Merle is alive.

“Hey—if Merle’s around, I need to see ‘em,” Daryl blurts, desperation creeping into his tone.

Rick gets in his face, his voice tight. “Not now, we’re in hostile territory.”

“He’s my brother,” Daryl snaps, his breath quickening. “I ain’t—”

“Look what he did! We gotta get out of here, now!” Rick shouts.

Daryl’s eyes are wide, and they turn pleading. “Maybe I can talk to ‘em. Work somethin’ out.”

Rick shakes his head fiercely. “No, no, no. You’re not thinkin’ straight. Look—Glenn can barely walk. How are we gonna get out if we get overrun by walkers or the Governor catches up to us? I need you. Are you with me?”

Daryl’s chest heaves. His mind is a war zone, torn between Merle and the group. He clenches his jaw, weighing the options fast. Finally, after a long beat, he meets Rick’s gaze and says, “Yeah.”

[whatwooshkai]

"Red, you gotta tighten your grip, you're goin’ to lose it like that!" High Tide orders, smacking Heatwave on the back of the helm. With one hand he grabs the rod Heatwave's holding, forcing it into a different position.

Heatwave grumbles something unintelligible and High Tide hums, moving on to inspect whatever Chase and Boulder are doing.

High Tide's correction actually makes holding the rod more comfortable, but it's not like Heatwave's about to admit that, especially not to him. High Tide's ego cannot get any bigger.

"Green!" High Tide shouts, and starts adjusting the rod in Boulder's hands, who's shooting pleading glances at Heatwave.

"I think I preferred the derogatory nicknames to this," Blades mutters from beside him, flicking Heatwave with one of his rotors.

"WHAT WAS THAT, CREAMSICLE?!" High Tide shouts and Blades flinches, shoulders shooting up to his audials.

"Nothing!" he shouts back, voice box crackling with nervous static. Confident High Tide's not looking at him anymore, Blades turns to Heatwave and flicks him with his rotor again.

"I think I got something!" Boulder suddenly shouts, backpedaling as they yank on the rod, which is bending probably more than it can handle.

"'Atta bot!" High Tide shouts, running up beside Chase to help Boulder pull on the rod. "That's gonna be a big one!"

Heatwave doesn't move, his tanks suddenly cramping. Blades grabs onto him, dropping his rod, which High Tide notices, of course.

"ORANGE!" he shouts, suddenly letting go of Boulder. "Grab that damn rod! Don't be losin' my equipment now-!"

"Sorry!" Blades shouts, scrambling for the rod, and Chase lets go of Boulder to turn on High Tide, presumably to either chastise him or wait for orders, depends on how the mech feels, usually.

There's a sudden lurch of the boat and Boulder's rod bends faster than any of them can react, and soon there's no more Boulder, but rather a green blur that speeds off the side of the boat and into the water.

Heatwave doesn't even think about it. He dives into the water.

-----------------------------------

"Are both of you nuts?!" High Tide snarls, shouting over their fans at full blast. He piles more towels on their shoulders, then quickly checks the temperature of the hot energon he gave them.

"Primus almightly," High Tide mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and his thumb. "We're lucky none of y'all have sea-based alt modes, y'all sink like rocks."

Heatwave's tanks give a sudden lurch at that and he flinches, leading to all three of his rescue bots leaning closer.

He doesn't know what happened. He's done water rescues before, hell, he's saved Boulder from the water before.

But he'd jumped in and his vision had gone black. And for a moment, he was someone else. And then he was himself, again, but different, heavier, that damn feeling of phantom kibble-

It makes him wonder about the actual nature of his power. Can he see the future? Into other universes?

Nothing makes sense.

"I think that's enough for today," High Tide mumbles, rubbing both Boulder and Heatwave's helms. "I'd better take y'all home before Prime gets on my aft again."

Heatwave sighs heavily, leaning against Boulder again. There's a fleeting thought in his processor, that maybe he should avoid water for the foreseeable future.

But that's ridiculous. What kind of firetruck doesn't like water?

[im-no-jedi]

In Need of Cuddles

I'm feeling the effects of the monthly blood curse and needed some comfort, so I wrote a little something to deal with that. and because it's Wednesday, I chose the bestest sweet boy Wrecker for that 🥰

this is super short and fluffy, no warnings except for an allusion to suffering from depression 💙 also in case it wasn't obvious, this takes place in the MLWTBBverse✨

___________________________________________________________

"Knock knock!"

Hannah's attention was drawn to her front door. The familiar, boisterous voice from behind it immediately drew a smile to her face.

"Can I come in??"

"Sure," Hannah replied with a giggle.

The front door slid open to reveal the massive visage of Wrecker, who stepped into the room with all the graniose he normally had. A bag was draped over one of his shoulders, and he held a smaller bag in his other hand.

"Clank asked me to bring these up to you!" Wrecker stated as he plopped the bags onto the kitchen counter. A few fruits tumbled out and rolled across the counter, but Wrecker quickly caught them before they went too far. "Hope this is enough groceries for ya!"

Hannah let out another giggle. "I'm sure it's fine. Thanks, Big Guy."

Wrecker grinned at her, then placed the caught fruits back into their respective bags. He was about to start rummaging through one of them to search for a snack he'd brought for himself, but paused just before his hand touched the bag.

Something wasn't right.

He hadn't given much thought to it at first, but Hannah hadn't moved from her spot on the couch since he'd come in. Normally, she would either come over and start unloading groceries right away, or she would give him a little welcome hug. As far as he knew, Hannah wasn't sick or hurt, but maybe he was wrong.

"You doin' ok, Hannah?" Wrecker gently asked.

Hannah gave him a clearly forced smile and replied, "oh, I'm fine. Just... tired today, that's all."

Wrecker's brow turned down. It wasn't unusual for Hannah to hide her true feelings, especially when she wasn't feeling well. And although it was frustrating to deal with, Wrecker knew that was just how she processed certain things. Luckily, he had a knack for picking up on others' emotions, so it wasn't too hard to suss out that she was holding something back.

"Ya sure?" Wrecker began to step closer to the couch. "Cause you're not acting right. To me, anyway."

Hannah let out a small sigh and shook her head. "Sometimes I forget how empathetic you are, Big Guy."

"That's the word that means you can feel other people's feelings, right?"

Hannah nodded with a small chuckle.

"I thought I felt somethin' off about you!" Wrecker came right up to Hannah and bend down closer to her. "You're not sick, are ya?"

Hannah shook her head in response.

"Are ya hurt?"

Hannah shook her head again.

"Did ya get in a fight with Hunter?"

Hannah once again shook her head, this time with a snicker.

"So... what's up then? You can tell me."

A grateful smile spread on Hannah's face, and her eyes began to well with emotion. She let out a shaky sigh before she spoke. "I'm just... do you ever just randomly get sad? Like, for no reason?"

Wrecker thought for a moment, then shook his head. "I only get sad if I see or think about somethin' sad. Like, sometimes when I think about losin' Lula or... ya know, when Kamino went..." He made a noise replicating an explosion and spread his hands out for emphasis.

"Yeah, same. But... sometimes I just... I get sad, and I don't even know why. And it makes my body tired, and I can't make myself do anything. It's kinda like being sick, but not."

"Sick with sadness?"

Hannah managed a laugh. "Kinda, yeah."

Although he didn't understand how such a thing could happen, Wrecker couldn't help but feel complete compassion for his dear friend.

"Aww, Hannah..." Wrecker sat down beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry... is there anything I can do for ya?"

Immediately after touching her, Hannah's eyes began to well up more and a sniffle escaped her nose. "I don't know, I just... I'm just..."

As soon as the first cry came out of Hannah, Wrecker threw his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. "Aww, don't cry, Hannah! It's ok!"

Hannah's cries morphed into small sobs as she clung to Wrecker's massive figure. Her face buried into his chest, and her whole body shook as she cried. Wrecker could only hold her, firmly but gently, as he let her get her emotions out.

Eventually, Hannah's cries turned into just small sniffles, and Wrecker used that opportunity to offer her a tissue. He pet her head as she blew her nose, then moved his hand to gently rub her back.

"Ya feel better now?" he asked, still gentle as ever.

"A bit, yeah," Hannah answered with another sniffle. "Guess I just needed a good cry."

"And a good hug!"

Hannah let out one of her signature resounding laugh. "From you? Always."

At that, Wrecker pulled her in again, making more laughs come out of her. "Glad I could help! I hate seein' ya so sad!"

Hannah's arms tightly wrapped around Wrecker's waist, and she nuzzled into his chest once again. "You definitely helped. Thanks, Big Guy."

"Anything for you, Hannah!"

"You're too sweet," Hannah said with a giggle. She sighed and continued, "I think sometimes I just need some good ol' affection like this."

Wrecker let out a chuckle that rumbled through Hannah's whole body. "Well, whenever Hunter's not around to give ya some, I'll gladly give it to ya myself!"

Once again, Hannah let out a boisterous laugh, loud enough that even Wrecker could feel it. "And I'm perfectly fine with that!"

[clangenrising]

Month 10 - Leafbare

“Yarrowshade?” Nightfrost asked softly. Yarrowshade immediately lifted his head from where he had been sleeping, the two of them curled around to rest on each others’ flanks. 

“Yes?” he asked, ready to do whatever she wanted. The snow had prevented anyone from harvesting horsetail. A storm had rolled in again after Sagetooth had returned, delaying Branchbark’s expedition to try and find any. Luckily, today had lots of sun and no new snow, thawing the drifts enough that sometimes grass was visible between them again. Branchbark had left earlier that day to go looking. The others had agreed to handle the border patrols and Goldenstar was taking care of Barleypaw’s training for the time being, which he was grateful for. 

As much as he hated to think about it, everyone seemed to think that Nightfrost wasn’t long for the world and he wanted to spend as much time with her as he could. He wanted to believe she would get better but if she didn’t he couldn’t bear the thought of her being alone. 

Nightfrost smacked her lips a bit, wincing at the taste of her nap, and asked, “Are you also feeling really warm?” Her voice was faint and woozy which worried him. 

“No, I’m not,” he shook his head, “are you feeling really warm?” 

“Yeah,” she mumbled, laying her head back down on his side. 

“Maybe I should get Sagetooth,” he said, shifting to get up and she whimpered. 

“No, don’t,” she moaned. “Please stay.” 

Guilt weighing down his gut, Yarrowshade settled back down. “Okay, I’ll stay.” He sat there for a long moment, watched her shut her eyes and grimace in discomfort, and felt her heartbeat thumping quickly against him. Something was wrong. 

“Sagetooth!” he called, disliking the worry that wobbled in his voice. 

“What is it?” she asked, sounding cranky as ever. She limped around the corner of the burrow from where she had been resting in her nest. Like Nightfrost, her paws had been bound with cobwebs to keep them clean. 

“Nightfrost says she’s feeling very warm,” he said. 

“Fever,” she grunted, expression darkening. Carefully, she made her way over and sniffed at Nightfrost’s paws. She stepped back, nodding solemnly. “Definitely infected.” Nightfrost whimpered and shifted uncomfortably in the nest. Somewhere deeper in the den, Oddstripe coughed. Yarrowshade hated how much the situation reminded him of the time that cats were sick with the Red Gut plague.

“What can we do?” he asked.

“We can cool her down with snow,” Sagetooth shrugged. “I can give her some borage, maybe poppy seeds. Other than that… there’s not much to be done until Branchbark returns with the horsetail.” 

“Okay,” he nodded. “You get her some borage, I’ll grab some snow.” 

“Here,” she said, limping over to the herb stores. “Take a pumpkin leaf and fill it.” Very carefully, he pulled himself out from underneath Nightfrost and she whined again. 

“No, don’t go,” she pleaded. 

“I’ll be right back, my love,” he said, pressing a few licks to her forehead. Stars, she was burning up. He moved to join Sagetooth and take the pumpkin leaf she was offering. As he took it, he whispered, “How long does she have if he doesn’t show?” 

Sagetooth sighed. “Hours. You should prepare to surrender her to StarClan.” 

Yarrowshade’s stomach twisted sickly. He nodded and took the leaf outside to fill it with snow. His mind was far away and his eyes refused to focus. He felt like he was floating out of his body and out of time. 

You should prepare to surrender her to StarClan.

The word surrender made him feel ill. How could she ask that of him? He had only recently been able to call Nightfrost his and now he was being forced to let her go. He had never been one to give up. He had never been one to stop fighting. If there was something worth saving he would always fight for it until he couldn’t physically move. But this was an illness. What was there to do? He had no way to fight. 

He thought back to something he had told Goldenstar when Toadpaw had been taken. I’m just tired of losing cats and being powerless to stop it. 

Feeling that tiredness in a foggy haze around his mind, he bunched the leaf up in his teeth and brought the snow back into the den. Sagetooth showed him how to close the leaf shut with a bit of cobwebs and then handed him the borage and instructed him how to feed them to her. He did so then gently returned to the position they had been in before, curled close so he could feel her heart beating against him. He carefully placed the leaf of snow onto her forehead and she sighed in relief, the most beautiful noise he had ever heard. 

Please, StarClan, he begged wordlessly, let Branchbark return in time.

He let her rest. Words passed through his brain, a thousand different ways to start a conversation with her, but none of them felt important enough to disturb her. They would all be for his benefit and none of them would be as satisfying as he might hope. Eventually the snow melted and he very carefully groomed the water from her fur and tossed the leaf to the side. At one point he hummed a tune for her and she smiled. 

It was hard to tell how much time had passed. He started to doze unintentionally but was woken when she suddenly twisted and whimpered. 

“Nightfrost?” he asked. She was breathing hard and her heart was hammering against her ribs. 

“So cold,” she breathed, trying to pull him closer. He licked her fur the wrong way, trying to warm her up the only way he knew how. 

“It’ll be alright,” he said. “Branchbark should be here soon, just hold on.” 

Nightfrost whined and pressed herself close against his flank. “Yarrowshade?” she asked.

“Yes?” 

“Can you sing again?” 

“Of course, my love,” he said, starting humming the tune from before. He nuzzled close to her, tried to press his weight comfortingly against her. Her breath was shaky now, starting to falter. Her hammering heart beat began to slow. His whole chest tightened in anticipation. She could pull through this, he told himself, she was the strongest of all of them. 

She twitched sharply, eyes opening, and stared blankly at the ceiling. She twitched again. Her heart beat slowed to a crawl and faded. He held his breath, searching for it, for the sound of her breath rasping in her throat. She laid silent and still against his side. 

He choked down a sob. “Nightfrost?” he asked. Silence. He wasn’t brave enough to ask again. Closing his eyes, he pressed his chin against her, held her close. He didn’t cry very often but now the grief shook his whole chest and constricted his throat. Tears rolled down his nose and into her fur. Distantly, he registered Sagetooth peering around the corner of the den and was somewhat relieved when she disappeared again. He grit his teeth and wept. 

That night, Branchbark returned with the horsetail.

UPDATES: - Nightfrost's frostbite becomes infected. She does not survive.

[canolaaoil]

To all my best friends, only twelve leagues and one text message away

1. Dearly Departed, Brockhampton. // 2. The Year of Magical Thinking, Joan Didion. // 3. unsent project. // 4. I am in Eskew. // 5. His dark materials. // 6. Where did you go? Hishaam Siddiqui. // 7. parts in motion, Vera Much. // 8. Your Name Engraved, Herein. 9. Hmu, spacegirl GEMMY.

Description follows

[ID: song lyrics reading, "What's the point of havin' a best friend if you / end up losin' him?" end ID]

[[ID: a photograph in the style of an early digital camera of two teenage girls cuddling under blankets on a couch watching something on a computer. end ID]

[ID: a poem reading, "Life changes fast. / Life changes in the instant. / You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends. end ID]

[ID: a fuzzy photograph in the style of an early digital camera of three people huddled around a fridge. All of the people have brown hair, glowing golden from the lighting and only one of their faces is turned toward the camera. end ID]

[ID: a text entry on a pink background reading, "To: Harry I / i've written 43 / poems about you. / come back and i / won't have to write anymore. / -asle" end ID]

[ID: a photograph in the style of an early digital camera of a couple in a photobooth with only their feet and legs visible behind the curtain. one is sitting on the other's lap. ]

[ID: text reading, "The problem is, my love, is that I can't sustain the fact of your death. / I can convince myself that it's true, force myself to picture your rotting, ruined face dumped in a mass grave somewhere out in the world... / ...and then my phone buzzes and I'm still expecting an unexpected message from you, telling me what corner of the globe you've holed up in, the foods you're eating, the card-players you're outwitting." end ID]

[ID: a photograph of two people in an aquarium, shot from behind. they stand in front of a large window showing a tank of water and seaweed. the two pose as if dancing grandiosely with no one else around. end ID]

[ID: a paragraph reading, "And it was comforting to think she and Will had another thing in common. She wondered if there would ever come an hour in her life when she didn't think of him- didn't speak to him in her head, didn't relive every moment they'd been together, didn't long for his voice and his hands and his love. She had never dreamed of what it would feel like to love someone so much; of all the things that astonished her in her adventures, that was what astonished her the most. She thought the tenderness it left in her heart was like a bruise that would never go away, but she would cherish it forever." end ID]

[ID: a photograph from behind of a group of people walking together down a city street. two of the people have their arms around each other shoulders. another two link arms. the image is slightly blurry. end ID]

[ID: a couplet reading, "One day I woke up and we no longer spoke the / same language. I haven't heard from you since." end ID]

[ID: a photograph of two people, focused on one in the foreground. A young woman looks lovingly towards something out of frame, her face resting on the meat of her hand. In the background a man looks away towards another subject. The lighting is dreamy and yellow. end ID]

[ID: lyrics reading, "Show me it all / Tell me what's wrong / You got your hard drive stolen / Your phone's been broken / Play me a song off of mine / Show me it all / Show me a rise / Show me a fall / Pay me no mind / Paint me in gold / I don't mean to pry, but give me a call" end ID]

[ID: a gif from the movie 'Your Name Engraved Herein' of Birdy and A-han riding a motorbike through the streets at night. Both smile widely as they breeze along, Birdy sitting behind A-han with his shirt off over his head, yelling happily. End ID]

[ID: lyrics reading, "They say everything has reason / Life fluctuates like seasons / And maybe someday soon we'll both find our reason / But bitch you're still the bro / Never letting go / Of the friendship bracelets we made when we were twelve // I'll be waiting by my phone / For you to hit me up / For you to hit me up / Hit me hit me up" end ID]

[ID: a photograph of a plaque on an outside wall reading, "LIFE HAPPENS BUT I STILL CARE FOR YOU. I HOPE YOU'RE DOING WELL." end ID]

[longitudinalwaveme]

Fictober 2024--Aurora Borealis

Day 14: “Let’s Try This.” 

It's the Len Snart as a Green Lantern AU!

Len Snart was sitting in his rundown motel room, flipping through a newspaper, when a particular article caught his eye. It was about the Flash, the superpowered crimefighter who had recently popped up two years ago in his hometown of Central City—and who was sure to be a real pain in the neck. Evading the cops was one thing. All that took was caution and timing (although having glasses that could intercept radio bands from squad cars definitely helped). Evading a man who could run fast enough to break the sound barrier? Len was no scientific expert, but even he knew that that was probably impossible. 

Impossible unless there was a way to slow him down…and this article said that some scientist types were publishing an article on the Flash’s speed. If Len could get his hands on that article, maybe it would give him some ideas of how to evade even the city’s new so-called superhero. 

Len snorted. Superhero indeed. Superpowered cop was more like it…and where had the cops been when his old man took a beer bottle to his shoulder? Or when he’d gone after his little sister with a lit cigarette?

Lookin’ the other way, that’s where. Because his old man had been a cop too, and even though he’d been kicked off the force, he still had enough connections to get them to turn a blind eye. And like as not, the Flash would be the same way. Which meant Len was going to do everything he could to stay out of his way—especially since the Flash had been the reason he’d spent the last couple of years in the state pen. 

He’d look into getting his hands on that scientific article tomorrow. But for tonight, he was going to suffer through tonight’s Cubs game. Len reached for the remote and was about to turn on the TV when he was suddenly enveloped in a bright green light. His motel room disappeared, and suddenly found himself standing in a large empty field. Central City’s skyline was still visible in the distance, so he hadn’t been transported too far away, but that didn’t explain how he had been in his motel room one second and outside of the city the next. 

And it definitely didn’t explain the wrecked spaceship, which looked like something out of the science fiction comics that his grandfather had given him when he was a kid. So either aliens were real, or some weirdo had blown a ridiculous amount of time and money on pranking him. The only way to find out which was to go into the spaceship. 

“I must be losin’ my mind,” Len muttered as he made his way toward the crashed spaceship. For all he knew, this might be some sort of alien trap—but while he’d always been cautious, he’d never been one to avoid a situation just because it might be dangerous. If he had, he’d still be under the thumb of his old man. 

“Come in, Earthman,” a voice suddenly said. Len followed the voice to see a pink-skinned, yellow-eyed guy, dressed in some sort of green and black uniform. He was basically human in shape, but something about him told Len that this wasn’t some guy in makeup. This was a real alien—and he didn’t look so hot. 

“Who are you? What’s goin’ on here?” Len asked. 

“My name is Abin Sur. I am not of Earth, but of a far distant planet. And I am dying,” the alien said weakly.

“Uh, if you were tryin’ to call a doctor, you got the wrong guy. I don’t know the first thing about medicine. If you need help, you should probably use whatever fancy tech you used to teleport me here to teleport us to Central City General Hospital,” Len said. The hospital might not know how to treat an alien, either, but they would be a lot more likely to be able to help than some borderline-illiterate ex-con. 

“No. It is too late to help me. Besides, I must speak to you on a matter of great importance,” the alien replied. 

“You’ve gotta tell someone about somethin’ more important than your life—and you grabbed me?” Len asked. He was starting to think that this alien guy must have gotten brain damage in the crash. 

“Yes. Look at this battery, Earthman,” the alien said. He pointed to his right, where Len saw something that looked like the old-timey lantern his grandfather had owned—only glowing green. 

“Looks like some kinda…. green lantern.”  

“Yes….in your words, a green lantern. But actually it is a battery of power, given only to selected space patrolmen in the super-galactic system, to be used as a weapon against the forces of evil and injustice.” 

“So you’re some sorta space cop?” Len asked. 

“Indeed. We call ourselves the Green Lantern Corps, and it is our duty, when disaster strikes, to pass on the battery of power to another who is fearless—and honest. The battery has already selected you as one who has been made immune to fear. Come closer to me, Earthman, so that I may use my ring to scan you and measure your honesty,” the alien replied. Len actually laughed. Was this alien really trying to recruit him as a space cop? 

“Much as I hate to disappoint you, pal, I think you got the wrong guy. Maybe your battery got damaged when your spaceship crashed or somethin’, I don’t know, but I’m an ex-con. Been in and out of jail since I was eighteen. I don’t think I’m somebody the other space cops would wanna take on as a rookie,” Len said. The alien didn’t seem to care, though, as he pointed his hand at Len, and a beam shot out from the ring on his finger—a ring that was shaped to look like a lantern. Apparently the space cops liked to stay on brand. 

“Hey! If you really are dyin’, quit wastin’ your time on me and teleport the Flash here. He’s all noble and upstandin’ and crap, and he’s even got powers. He’s the guy you wanna make a space cop.” 

“By the green beam of my ring, I see that you do not put up pretenses. You are exactly as you appear to be. So you pass both tests.” Len’s theory that the alien was brain damaged was becoming more and more likely by the second. 

“Sure, I don’t make no bones about what I am—but what I am is an ex-con! A cheap crook! And you’re tryin’ to recruit a new space cop! For all you know, I’ll use the badge as a cover to rob people blind without gettin’ caught!” 

“No. You won’t,” the alien replied.

“What’s gonna stop me? You’re about to kick the bucket, ain’t you?” 

“What’s going to stop you, Leonard Snart, is you. Though you have been a criminal and an evildoer, and thus have no love lost for the law enforcement of this planet, you still despise those who cover their acts of wickedness and evil with the badge of righteousness. You would not join their number—for if you did, you would be exactly like your father.” 

“How do you—”

“When the ring scanned you to measure your honesty, it also allowed me to probe your mind and learn of your history.”

“It did what?” 

“There is still much to tell you, and only moments left! My ship was battered…in the deadly radiation bands surrounding your planet. A terrible yellow light, similar to your aurora borealis, blinded me at the controls. Then I crashed.”

“And how does any of this make me a good candidate for bein’ a space cop?” 

“Only seconds left to tell you…once you have the battery, you will have power over everything—except that which is yellow!” 

“Yellow? Like, the color? 

“The unique metal which charges the battery with its wondrous power has a yellow impurity in it. Strangely enough, if that yellow impurity is removed, the battery instantly loses its power. It is this impurity in the battery which will make you powerless over anything yellow!” 

  “So the ring will let me read minds like a creepy weirdo and teleport terrible choices for new space cops anywhere I want, but I’ll be up a creek without a paddle if someone comes at me with a banana?” 

“Now, take my ring. Let me put it on you. With this ring you will drain power from the battery, effective every twenty four hours,” the alien said as he grabbed Len’s hand. If he hadn’t obviously been on his deathbed, Len would’ve socked him in the nose, but even he wasn’t quite low enough to punch a dying guy in the face. He took the ring from his finger and slipped it onto the ring finger of Len’s right hand. 

“Seriously, you should really go find the Flash for this. Or an Earth cop. Or anybody who, you know, isn’t a criminal,” Len said. 

“The battery has chosen you, Leonard Snart. I do not pretend to understand why, or how, but it has—which means there must be some good in you.” Len snorted. 

“Sure there is. Which is why I knock over liquor stores.” The alien fixed him with a really intense stare. 

“Your grandfather was a good man, Leonard Snart. For his sake, and as my dying request, I charge you: swear to use this ring to fight for justice, and to atone for the life of crime you have led.” 

Len had always known on some level that his grandfather wouldn’t be real happy if he had been alive to learn about the line of work he had taken up, but he’d never had anyone directly confront him with it before. The guilt that stirred up, combined with the force of someone’s last request, swamped his better judgment. 

“Okay, okay. I swear.” 

“In order to charge your ring, you must touch the ring to the battery and recite the oath of the Green Lantern Corps,” the alien said. Len walked over to the battery and touched the ring to it. 

“Now, repeat after me. In brightest day—” 

“In brightest day.” 

“In darkest night—” 

“In darkest night.” 

“No evil shall escape my sight.”

“No evil shall escape my sight.”  Len wanted to ask if that “evil” included him, but decided against it. The alien was about to kick the bucket, after all.

“Let those who worship evil’s might…” 

“Let those who worship evil’s might.” 

“Beware my power—Green Lantern’s light!” 

“Beware my power—Green Lantern’s light!” The ring and the battery both glowed a bright green, and Len suddenly found himself dressed in a black-and-green costume identical to the one the alien was wearing. The appearance of the costume was followed a few seconds later by a rush of energy that wasn’t like anything Len had ever felt before. If this was the power of a Green Lantern, no wonder the oath warned people to beware of it. 

The alien slumped, as though he had used up the last of his strength. 

“Now, I have told you all. Do not fail me.” The alien’s eyes closed and his body fell still, and Len didn’t need a super-powered ring to know that he was dead. Len wondered if the guy had an alien family. Since Len had apparently been chosen to be his replacement, was he supposed to track them down and tell them about his death if he did? How was any of this supposed to work? 

“Abin Sur leaves behind a son, Amon Sur, a sister, Arin Sur, and a niece, Soranik Natu,” a robotic voice said. After a few seconds of panic, Len realized that the voice was coming from the ring—which meant that the ring could answer at least some questions. 

“Am I supposed to—” 

“No. The news of Abin Sur’s death has already reached the Guardians of the Universe, to whom all Green Lanterns report. They will send a messenger to inform his loved one of his passing.” Len sighed in relief. The last thing he wanted was to have to tell a total stranger—a total stranger from another planet, no less—-that his old man had died. 

“They gonna pick up the body, too?” 

“No. Abin Sur considered all the planets in Sector 2814 as his own, and requested that he should be buried on the planet where he died,” the ring replied. Len swore. He didn’t particularly like the idea of having to dig somebody’s grave, but even he didn’t feel right leaving the guy’s corpse to rot. Which meant he was gonna have to bury Abin Sur. 

Two hours later, Abin Sur was buried, and Len used the ring to mark his grave with a glowing green tombstone. It wasn’t much, but he wasn’t an undertaker. Hopefully his efforts would keep the space cop from rolling over in his grave, at least.

“Rest in peace, I guess,” he muttered. Then he looked down at his ring. 

“You mind takin’ me back home? Standin’ around a dead guy’s grave is startin’ to give me the creeps.”. The ring enveloped him in the green light, and after a few seconds he found himself back in his motel room. The battery had apparently come along for the ride, since it was resting next to the bed. 

“And can I have my regular clothes back? You might’ve chosen me to be a space cop, but I ain’t exactly on the clock right now.” There was another flash of green light, and Len was relieved to look down and see that his clothes were back to normal. It would’ve been kind of hard to explain to the motel owner why he was wandering around in a green-and-black leotard. 

Len yawned, and decided that he could plan out his next move in the morning. He walked over to his bed, laid down on it without even bothering to take off his clothes, and was soon fast asleep.

****************************************************************************** When Len woke up, he rolled over on his bed—only to see the power battery. He swore. So much for his hope that his encounter with the alien space cop had been a dream brought on from eating week-old takeout. 

Which meant that life as he had known it had come to a very sudden end. Len sighed wearily and looked down at the lantern-shaped ring on his finger. 

“You have some sort of space cop manual or something? ‘Cause I ain’t got the foggiest idea of what I’m supposed to do now,” Len asked. 

“As a newly recruited member of the Green Lantern Corps, your first task is to report to the Guardians of the Universe on the planet Oa,” the ring replied. 

“Wait. I have to go to another planet?” Len didn’t even like leaving Central City!

“The journey will not be arduous. I am programmed to be able to transport you to Oa instantaneously.” Len’s first instinct was to say that there was no way he was leaving Earth, but then he realized something. If he allowed the ring to take him to these Guardians of the Universe, they would realize that the ring—or maybe Abin Sur—had been damaged in the crash and chose the wrong guy. Then they would give the ring to someone who would actually make sense as a space cop—someone like the Flash—and Len could go back to his normal life.

“Then take me there.” There was a flash of green light, and Len suddenly found himself standing in front of a massive building, one that wasn’t like anything he had ever seen on Earth. He was also back in the green-and-black leotard, but he didn’t really mind wearing it for the sake of the trip that would allow him to get rid of it. 

After a few seconds of wondering if he should go inside the building or wait for the Guardians of the Universe to invite him in, he was approached by a huge creature with a face that kind of looked like a cross between a pig and a bulldog. He had to be at least eight feet tall, and Len was tensing himself for a fight when he noticed that the creature was wearing the same uniform that he was. The bulldog pig was a Green Lantern, just like Abin Sur had been. 

“Are you the new Green Lantern from Sector 2814? Abin Sur’s successor?” he asked. 

“I guess so, yeah. I…wasn’t exactly expecting to be chosen for the job,” Len replied.

“I’m Kilowog, the Green Lantern of Sector 674. I’m from the planet Bolovax Vik, and I’m here to take you to meet the Guardians of the Universe.” 

“Len. Len Snart. I’m from the planet Earth.” Kilowog’s face seemed to scrunch up.

“Your planet’s named ‘Dirt’?” Len shrugged. 

“I didn’t name the planet.” Kilowog laughed. 

“Well, it’s good to meet you—even if I am going to really miss Abin Sur. He was one of the best of us,” he said. 

“He seemed like a decent guy. Even if I’m not sure that he made the right choice for a successor,” Len replied. Kilowog nodded. 

“Every Lantern feels that way when they’re first chosen by the ring. I know I did. I thought, I’m a genetic scientist. What do I know about fighting criminals? It took me a while to get the hang of the job, but I managed—-with the help of my fellow Green Lanterns, of course. And now I’m an instructor for the rookies.” 

“Which is why you’re takin’ me to the Guardians?” 

“Exactly. So, what did you do on Earth before the ring chose you as a Green Lantern?”

“I knocked over liquor stores.” Kilowog’s mouth dropped open. 

“You’re a criminal?” 

“Look, I don’t understand it any more than you do. The best I can figure is that either Abin Sur got brain damage from the spaceship crash that did him in and didn’t realize what he was doing, or the ring itself got busted and chose the wrong guy,” Len replied. 

“Come on. The Guardians have to be informed of this right away,” Kilowog said. His cheerful demeanor from earlier was gone, and he practically dragged Len inside the building where the Guardians of the Universe were, presumably, hanging out. 

“Guardians, I think something went wrong in the selection of the new Lantern for Sector 2814,” Kilowog said as he and Len entered a large, circular room. 

“Explain yourself, Kilowog.” It took Len a few seconds to figure out where the voice was coming from, but once he did, he had to stop himself from laughing. Whatever he had expected the Guardians of the Universe to look like, it definitely hadn’t been a bunch of short blue men in robes. 

“Tell them who you are,” Kilowog snapped at Len. 

“My name’s Len Snart. I’m from the planet Earth, where Abin Sur crashed, and I think that the crash that killed him must’ve also damaged his tech or given him brain damage or something, because he chose me to be the next Green Lantern of Sector 2814.” The Guardians of the Universe looked confused. 

“And why do you and Kilowog believe that this means that a mistake was made?” 

“Because I’m an ex-con—a criminal. I’m not exactly space cop material. So either the ring is busted, and it made a mistake, or whatever injuries did in Abin Sur also caused him to misunderstand what the ring was tellin’ him,” Len replied. 

“The ring does not have the power to teleport you to Oa against your will. If you are a criminal as you say, then why did you come here with it? Why did you not simply use its power to enrich yourself?” It was a good question. Why hadn’t he just done that? 

Except for the fact that it would make him exactly like his father, of course. 

“Because my old man was a crooked cop, and I’d rather die than be anything like him. I’m not gonna stand here and pretend I’m anything other than a thug, but there’s stuff even I won’t stoop to,” Len replied. The little blue guys muttered to each other, and then one of them stepped forward, pulled out some kind of ray, and shot a beam of light at Len.

“The ring is undamaged,” he said. 

“Okay, so Abin Sur hurt his head durin’ the crash or somethin’. I don’t belong here. Send me back to Earth, and let the ring choose whoever was actually supposed to be Sector 2814’s new space cop,” Len replied. 

“You don’t seem to understand, Mr. Snart. There was no mistake. As improbable as it may seem, the ring has chosen you to be our newest Green Lantern.” 

“But–” Len and Kilowog said in unison. 

“Leonard Snart, you have served your time for your previous offenses, and you are not currently wanted for any new crimes. As such, you are in effect an ordinary citizen of your planet—and eligible to be deputized as a Green Lantern.” 

“But I’m not—” 

“If you are caught using your power illicitly, we will confiscate the ring and punish you accordingly, as we would with any other Green Lantern. But as the situation currently stands, you are the Green Lantern of Sector 2814,” the little blue alien said. 

“And I can’t, like, give the job to someone who deserves it? Someone who’d actually want to do it?” 

“Leonard Snart, when I scanned the ring, it informed me that you promised Abin Sur on his deathbed that you would take up the position of Green Lantern in order to atone for your past crimes. Are you going to renege on that promise now?” Len swore. He had promised to do the job—not just to Abin Sur, but basically to his grandfather as well. 

“I’ll always keep you safe, Lisa. I promise.” 

He had broken that promise by leaving Lisa alone with their father. 

He couldn’t break this one. 

Which meant that he, Leonard Snart, a lowdown thug who distrusted cops on the best of days, was going to become a space cop. 

How did he get himself into these situations?

“I did promise. So— I guess if you’re really sure you want me, I’ll take the job. I’ll be the Green Lantern of Sector 2814.” 

“Excellent. Welcome to the Green Lantern Corps, Leonard Snart.” 

“Don’t tell me you expect me to baby-sit an ex-convict,” Kilowog protested.

“We don’t expect you to baby-sit anyone—but we do expect you to help train our newest corpsmember,” the little blue guy replied. Kilowog groaned.

“Fine. But I’m going to be watching him like a hawk.” Then he turned to Len. 

“Follow me, poozer. It’s time for you to learn what being a Green Lantern is really all about,” he said. 

“Come again?” Len asked. 

“Kilowog is our drill sergeant, and will be responsible for teaching you how to utilize your ring,” the little blue guy explained. 

“Wait. Nobody said anything about any kind of boot camp. I can’t just up and disappear from Earth for six months or whatever! I got bills to pay,” Len protested. 

“Then you’d better learn fast. You promised Abin Sur that you were gonna become a Green Lantern, and if you wanna keep that promise, you gotta go through boot camp just like the rest of us,” Kilowog replied. He turned on his heels and started walking towards the door, and, after a few seconds, Len reluctantly trailed after him. 

“Okay, fine. I’m coming.” As much as he hated the idea of being away from Central City for any length of time, he had promised Abin Sur that he would do this space cop thing, so he was going to do the space cop thing. Besides, it wasn’t like he’d never had to put his life back together from scratch before. 

“Your first lesson is this: there’s no room for rogues in the Corps. You’re obviously not much for authority. That’s gonna change right now, or you’ll never get out of boot camp,” Kilowog said as the two of them walked out of the room and down a hallway. Len swore. This was gonna be a rough couple of weeks. 

“Oh, and if I catch you breaking a rule—any rule—I’ll bust you down to basics again. Even if you’re about to graduate.” 

“Gotcha. So, uh, if you don’t mind me asking—when do I get paid?” Kilowog laughed.

“Lanterns don’t get paid, poozer. Especially not during basic training.” Len didn’t think that that was very fair. Did the Green Lantern Corps really expect their space police to work for free? 

“How’m I supposed to support myself back on Earth if I ain’t getting paid?” Kilowog just laughed. 

“I give it a week before you wash out,” he said.

Len was going to make Kilowog eat those words. 

******************************************************************************

Len graduated from space cop boot camp in five and a half months. It wasn’t a record or anything like that—not least because Kilowog had meant it when he had told Len that he would bust him down to basics if he broke a rule—-but he hadn’t washed out, and he had actually completed his training well ahead of schedule. 

“I’ll give you this, poozer. You’ve gotta be the most persistent cadet I’ve ever trained,” Kilowog said as he handed Len what Len could only describe as a holographic diploma—which, now that he thought about it, was the first diploma he’d ever earned. 

“And you’re the biggest pain in the neck I’ve ever met—-but you’re a good teacher. Anybody who could steer me to a diploma’d have to be,” Len replied. As much as he hated to admit it, Kilowog had really grown on him over the past few months. 

It had helped that, unlike a lot of the other Lanterns, he’d been upfront about the fact that he didn’t trust Len one bit. Since Len knew that most of them didn’t really trust the ex-con in their ranks, he’d appreciated that Kilowog had the guts to be honest about it. 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you just might have what it takes to make Abin Sur proud,” Kilowog said as the two of them shook hands. 

“Careful. You’ll make him roll over in his grave,” Len snarked. Even if he had promised to make up for his past crimes—even though he was going to do it—-he knew that he was a thug at heart. He would never be good enough to be a real hero.

Kilowog laughed. 

“Good luck out there. The first week of patrol is always a doozy,” he said.

“Thanks. See you around, Kilowog,” Len said. One of the Guardians of the Universe floated up to them. 

“Are you prepared to return to Earth, Leonard Snart?” Len had tried to convince the little blue men to just call him “Len”, but had gotten nowhere. 

“Are you kidding? I can’t wait to get back to Central City!” Len exclaimed. Lisa was probably worried sick about him by now….

“In that case, you are free to begin your first patrol, Green Lantern of Sector 2814—and may good fortune go with you.” 

There was a flash of green light, and Len was back in Central City. 

“Home, sweet home.” 

******************************************************************************

The first thing Len did after arriving on Earth, besides using his ring to change back into civilian clothes, was call his little sister on the phone. 

“Lenny?” Lisa asked. 

“Yeah, sis. It’s me,” Len replied. 

“Where have you been? No one’s heard anything from you in six months!” Lisa exclaimed. Len wasn’t quite sure what to say. 

“Sorry for not calling for so long. I was…uh…out of town on a job,” he said. Saying “I was in space cop boot camp on another planet” wasn’t something you could casually drop into a conversation. 

“Out of town? What do you mean, out of town? You never leave Central City! I thought you were dead!” 

“I’m really sorry, sis. It’s just…things came up and—-well—I had to get out of dodge for awhile.” There was a snort—the Snart snort—on the other end of the line. 

“If you’re on the run from the cops, you can just say so, Lenny. It’s not like I don’t know you’re a criminal.”

“Actually, I’m not anymore,” Len said. 

“I gathered as much, seeing as you’re calling me. I guess the heat died down?”

“No, I mean I’m not a criminal anymore.” 

“Wait. When you said you had a job, you meant that you got an actual job?”

“Yeah.” 

“What kind of job is it?” Another question Len wasn’t sure how to answer. Saying “I got hired by a bunch of little blue aliens to be a space cop” sounded crazy, and there was no way she would believe that he had been hired to be a regular cop.

On the other hand, he was going to need a second job. One that actually paid a salary. So maybe he could just make up a job and then go get hired in that position before Lisa could find out he’d lied to her. 

As an ex-con. With a felony on his record. That was never going to happen. 

Telling the truth it was, then. 

“Okay, first of all, you have to believe me when I tell you I’m not crazy.”

“Because that’s exactly what people say when they aren’t crazy,” Lisa replied. It was at this point that Len realized that he actually had a way to prove his sanity. 

“Sis, where are you?”

“I’m in my apartment. The one I stay in when I’m not on tour. Why?” There was a flash of green light, and Len materialized in his sister’s apartment. 

“Hey, sis,” he said. 

“Lenny? How—-how did you—”

“It’s kind of a long story, but the gist of it is that an alien space cop called a Green Lantern crash landed on Earth. He was fatally wounded in the crash, so he did a sweep of the surrounding area, lookin’ for people who don’t scare easy, and came up with me. Then he teleported me to him, passed on his power battery and ring to me, and told me that the ring—-it’s some sort of super-advanced tech the Green Lanterns use—had chosen me to be the next space cop of Sector 2814, which is where Earth is. It seemed totally crazy, but he was dying and really really insistent that I had to replace him, so I…kind of promised him that I would do the whole space cop thing. And then he died. I thought for sure that he’d made a mistake, so I had the ring take me to the Guardians of the Universe, these little blue guys who run the Green Lantern Corps, to tell them that they needed to find a new space cop, and I was transported to a planet called Oa.” 

“You went to another planet?” Lisa asked. 

“Yeah. It’s the one where the Guardians of the Universe live.” 

“And you’re sure you’re not crazy?” 

“Could I teleport before?” 

“Okay, fair point. So what happened after you got there?” 

“I told the Guardians that the ring had made a mistake, and they said that it hadn’t. I’ve technically served my time for all the crimes I’ve committed, and I guess that made me eligible to be chosen. But before I could be a full-fledged Green Lantern, I had to go through space cop boot camp—and that’s basically where I’ve been for the past six months. But I passed. I’ve got a diploma and everything. I’m a deputized space cop now,” Len said. He pulled out his holographic diploma, and was surprised at how proud he felt to be able to show it to his sister. 

“That’s actually really cool. I’m so proud of you, Lenny!” Lisa exclaimed.

“Thanks.” 

“Do you have a uniform? What does it look like? Can I see it?” 

“Sure, sis.” The ring glowed, and his civvies were replaced by the Green Lantern uniform.

“Wow! You look great!” Lisa exclaimed. 

“I dunno. I’m not crazy about the skintight spandex…”

“Trust me, you pull it off.” 

“If you say so.” 

“So, how much money do you make as a space cop?” Lisa asked. 

“Well, that’s the one problem with the gig. Green Lanterns get fed and sheltered on Oa, but they don’t get paid. Which means that, since I ain’t about to live full-time on another planet, I’m gonna need a second job,” Len said. Lisa grinned. 

“I know the guy who owns Central City’s ice skating rink. He’s been talking about how they need someone to run the Zamboni for months. If I recommended you, I bet he’d take you on,” she said. Len smiled.

“Well, I’ve always liked the cold. If you really think he’d hire me…that’d be great.”

And two days later, the Green Lantern of Sector 2814 was hired to be the official Zamboni driver for Central City’s biggest ice skating rink. 

*****************************************************************************

“In brightest day, in blackest night, no evil shall escape my sight. Let those who worship evil’s might beware my power—Green Lantern’s light!” The ring glowed brightly, and, now that it was fully charged, Len took off on his first official patrol. Since he had been out of the underworld loop for six months, he couldn’t exactly go chasing down specific crooks, so he was going to be limited to just sort of flying around and stopping whatever he came across, but he was definitely still  jumpy. This was his first day on the job, and he really didn’t want to make a total idiot out of himself.

And he really didn’t want to stumble across any of his former colleagues before he had some experience under his belt. Because running into them while he was still a rookie would be very awkward and might also result in him ending up very dead. 

“Guess nobody ever said this space cop thing would be easy,” he muttered to himself. 

The first hour or so of the patrol passed more or less uneventfully. Aside from some jaywalking, which wasn’t exactly the sort of evil that the power of a Green Lantern was intended to fight against, there’d been no sign of any trouble or anyone who was planning to commit a crime—and as an ex-con, Len was pretty good at spotting criminals who were trying to look casual before starting a job. 

He had been about to leave and head for a new city block when he suddenly heard a piercing scream coming from one of the apartment buildings. After using the ring to determine that the scream had come from an apartment on the third floor, he flew over to the window to see a man knock his wife to the ground. A little boy, no more than five years old, was standing nearby and sobbing. 

“Where were you today? Where were you?” the man screamed. 

“I was only at the grocery store, Ronald! I have the receipts—I can show you!” the woman pleaded. 

“Don’t lie to me! I know you were with another man! Who was it?” The little boy ran between his parents. 

“Daddy, please! Leave mommy alone!” he exclaimed. The man raised his hand, but before he could hit him, Len used the ring to open the window, and then to create an energy wall between the man and his son. 

“What the–?” the man asked. Len flew through the window and landed next to the man. 

“If you want a fight, why don’t you pick on somebody your own size?” he asked. 

“Who are you?” 

“Name’s Len. Len Snart. But to you, I’m the Green Lantern,” Len replied. 

“I don’t care if you’re the Flash. You ain’t got no right to interfere with my personal life.”

“Maybe not—but I ain’t gonna just stand by and let you knock your wife around and beat up your kid,” Len replied. 

“What I do in my own house in my own business.” 

“The man who slammed a beer bottle into my shoulder when I was twelve said the same thing. And I think you’re both full of crap,” Len said. He walked through his energy wall and extended a hand to the woman. 

“You okay?” The woman took his hand, and he pulled her to her feet. 

“I…I’m fine. You should go, really. Ronald isn’t normally…isn't normally like this. He’s just had a rough few days.” Len knew it was a lie. He remembered saying exactly the same thing to social workers as a kid.

 And he also knew that there probably wasn’t anything he could say or do to convince this woman to tell a stranger the truth. 

“All the same, I’m not gonna leave until I’m sure that you and the kid’ll be okay when I go,” he said. 

“If you don’t get outta my house, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing,” the man spat. Len laughed. 

“Go on, then. Call the cops. I’m sure they’ll be real interested to know why your wife’s got a black eye—and why you’ve got a bunch of dope and a sawed-off shotgun hidden under your couch.” Len knew from his own time as a crook that no small-timer in this situation would call the cops unless they were absolutely convinced that they were going to die. The chance of getting arrested alongside whoever was causing you the problem was way too high. 

Sure enough, Ronald didn’t call the cops. Instead, he pulled the shotgun out from underneath the couch and fired it over the energy wall—only for the bullet to be stopped by a red blur. A red blur that solidified into the Flash. 

“Somehow I doubt that you have a license for that gun,” he said. Len dropped the energy wall, and the Flash zipped over to Ronald and grabbed the shotgun out of his hands. Len took the opportunity to pin the guy to the wall with a glowing green clamp. 

“Nice work. I didn’t know there was another superhero in Central City,” the Flash said.

“I’m…uh…kinda new to the job. I only became the Green Lantern of Sector 2814 a couplea months ago, and I basically just got out of boot camp.” 

“The… Green Lantern?” the Flash echoed. 

“Yeah, a Green Lantern. A space cop. There’s one for every sector of space, and they’re run by these little blue guys who call themselves the Guardians of the Universe. Abin Sur was the last Green Lantern of this sector of the universe—2814—and since he died on Earth, he passed the ring on to me, ‘cause I ain’t afraid of much and I don’t pretend to be anything other’n what I am. Or somethin’ like that. I’m still half-convinced the stupid thing was busted when it chose me, but hey, what’re ya gonna do? Somebody has to do the job, and I did promise the guy I’d do it,” Len replied. 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. What brought you to this apartment? I came running because I heard the shotgun blast, but you were obviously here before he pulled that out,” Flash asked. 

“I heard a scream comin’ from the buildin’, so I flew up to the window to see what was goin’ on. When I looked inside, I saw our pal over there knockin’ his wife around in front of his kid. The kid ran over to try an’ protect his mom, and I stopped the creep with an energy wall just before he could slap his son around too. He started givin’ me all the usual crap about how I should get out and mind my own business, and when I told him I wasn’t gonna just fly off and let him go back to beatin’ up women and little kids, he pulled the shotgun on me. Thanks for the save, by the way,” Len replied. The Flash looked horrified. 

“He was going to hit his own child?” Len nodded. 

“Hate to say it, but it happens all the time. My old man broke my arm when I was about that kid’s age,” he said. The Flash’s mouth dropped open. 

“My parents never hit me. I…I couldn’t even imagine.” Funny. Len could barely imagine what it was like to have parents who didn’t hit you.

“Not even when you acted up?” 

“No. Never.” 

“You’re lucky, then.” 

“Do you mind if I run this criminal to CCPD Headquarters? I can get him there faster than you probably can, but I can understand if you want to get the credit for stopping him. You did most of the work, after all,” the Flash asked. 

“I don’t mind. I figure if I keep up this space cop gig long enough, I’ll end up with more credit than I know what to do with. So go ahead and take him,” Len replied. The Flash disappeared, and then reappeared about a minute later. 

“Sorry it took so long. I had to tell the police what I’d arrested him for,” he explained. Then he turned to the woman. 

“Are you all right, miss? Is there anything I can do for you?” The woman responded by bursting into tears. 

“You’ve done enough! What are Andy and I supposed to do without Robert? He was the only one bringing in any money!” she cried. From the look on Flash’s face, it was clear that he hadn’t been expecting that reaction.

“Before you ask, that ain’t uncommon either. It’s part of why women like my mom don’t call the cops on the guys who beat ‘em up—-they ain’t got the education or the money to make ends meet as single moms,” Len said quietly. Instead, he pulled out his wallet, fished out some fifty dollar bills, and handed them to the woman. 

“Will this be enough to hold you over for awhile?” he asked. As much as he would miss his baseball tickets—and his beer—he’d be alright without the cash. And if he was going to do this whole hero thing, he might as well do it all the way. 

The woman looked up at him suspiciously. 

“What’s the catch? What do you want? I…I won’t testify against Robert. I…I can’t,” she said.

“No catch, lady. Just take care of yourself—and your kid.” The woman gave him a weak smile.

“Where do you work?” the woman asked. 

“At the big downtown ice rink. I keep the place in shape—and run the Zamboni,” he replied. 

“Then I’ll swing by once a week and bring you some of my fried chicken. Everyone says it’s the best in the neighborhood.”  Len grinned.

 “That’d be great. See you soon.” Len looked over to the Flash, who looked like he was going through his own pockets, and put his hand on his shoulder. 

“I know what you’re thinkin’, but don’t. If you give her money, it’ll embarrass her.” The Flash gave him a bit of a strange look. 

“You gave her money.” 

“I can get away with it. I’m a poor high school dropout too. She can repay me, one way or the other. But from you it’d be charity,” Len explained. The Flash nodded and stopped going through his pockets. 

“Miss, is there anything else you need?” he asked. 

“No. We’ll be fine. And—I’m sorry about yelling at you earlier. It’s just…I married Robert when I was seventeen, right after we both dropped out. He told me that he would take care of me, and that I didn’t need to work, and—and—I was just so scared of the thought of not having his support for Andy,” the woman said.

“I understand. You were worried about your son, and I definitely forgive you.” Then the Flash turned to Len. 

“If you’re okay with it, I can get the two of us back on the streets in a flash.” 

“Sure. Why not?” There was a rush of light not too different from the one Len saw when the ring teleported him, and then he and the Flash were standing outside of the apartment building. 

“You know, Green Lantern, while I don’t think that woman is any threat, I’m not sure if you should go around telling people where you work as a civilian. If that information starts circulating, criminals might get a hold of it and use it to go after you when you’re off the clock—or worse, to go after your loved ones.” Len shrugged. 

“I appreciate the concern, but seein as I ain’t married, I don’t got kids, my sister’s an ice skater who spends most of her time touring the country under a stage name, my mom’s been AWOL for years, and my old man’s on the Candy Man’s payroll, I don’t figure I’ve got too much to worry about. I can take care of myself pretty well, even without the fancy ring,” he said.  

“If Green Lantern rings are awarded on the basis of fearlessness, I can see how you earned one,” the Flash replied. 

“Don’t give me too much credit. Anybody’d be fearless after a childhood of bein’ smacked around by their father and a couple of years fightin’ off wannabe cell block kings in state prison. You survive that and there’s not much that’ll scare you anymore.” 

“Wait. You’ve been to prison?” the Flash asked. 

“Uh-huh. Did two years for robbin’ a drug store on Fifth and Main, thanks to a certain red blur,” Len replied. The Flash’s eyes widened. 

“That gang—the one with the glasses that let them intercept police radio bands! I thought those green glasses you’re wearing looked familiar!” he exclaimed. 

“You got a good memory.”

“Who are you?” Len snorted. 

“Weren’t you just goin’ on about how I shouldn’t be tellin’ people about myself?” 

“That was before I knew you were a criminal!” 

“I was a criminal—but I ain’t one now. I wasn’t lying when I said I worked at the ice rink. Or about the space cop thing, for that matter.” 

“You’ll forgive me if I’m a bit wary to trust someone I know I put behind bars, and who therefore has a good reason to hold a grudge against me.” Len sighed. Well, it wasn’t like he actually cared if anyone knew who the Green Lantern really was. 

“Name’s Len. Len Snart,” he said. 

“Leonard Snart, then. You’re twenty-five years old. Arrested six times, convicted four times. You spent three months in jail for getting caught with burglar’s tools when you were eighteen, eight months in jail for stealing a fairly cheap necklace, starting when you were nineteen, another eight months in jail for stealing a couple hundred dollars from a liquor store, starting when you were twenty-one, and then two years in prison for robbing a drug store, starting at twenty-two.” 

“And you’re either a cop, a lawyer, or a warden, because nobody else knows that much about the criminal record of some cheap thug,” Len replied. 

“How in the world did you get deputized as a police officer, in space or otherwise?” Len shrugged. 

“I have no idea. I told ‘em I was an ex-con—repeatedly, because I wasn’t originally too keen on the whole space cop idea—-but they said that since I’d served my time for the old crimes, and hadn’t committed any new ones, I could be a Green Lantern. And since I’d promised the dying Green Lantern who passed me the ring that I’d go straight and take up the job, well—I decided I had to do it. I have all the paperwork and everything if you wanna see it.” 

“So you aren’t going to try to put me six feet under for sending you to prison?” 

“Even if I was still a criminal,  I wouldn’t be tryin’ to put you six feet under for sending me to prison. No crook needs the kinda heat killin’ a cape brings down on you. It’d be like killin’ a cop—maybe even worse.” 

“A… cape?” 

“Yeah. That’s what crooks—-at least the low-level ones—call costumed heroes. Capes,” Len replied. 

“And you’re serious about turning over a new leaf?” 

“If you’d asked me if I’d ever say this a year ago, I’d have laughed in your face—but yeah. I’m turnin’ over a new leaf,” Len replied. The Flash grinned. 

“You have no idea how glad I am to hear that. It’s a nice change of pace to know a person I arrested is changing for the better instead of plotting ways to kill me.” 

“And you’re sure you don’t mind havin’ an ex-con runnin’ around playin’ super-hero in your city?” 

“It’s not my city. You live here, too. In my mind, that makes it our city—and if you really do want to help people, I’m certainly not about to stop you. Even a man as fast as I am can’t be everywhere at once.”

“Guess that makes us allies, then.” The Flash nodded. 

“It does—and, although I really hate to run off on you, I think I’d better get going. I have a date at 8:00 PM sharp, and my girlfriend will be furious if I’m late again.” 

“Then I hope you’ve got the money to buy her a nice gift, ‘cause it’s 8:25.” 

“It is?” 

“Almost 8:26. Do you not own a watch?” 

“Several, actually, but somehow it doesn’t seem to help.” Len shook his head. 

“Good luck with your girlfriend—-and hey, I guess I’ll be seein’ you around.” 

“Good-bye, Green Lantern, and stay safe. With any luck, I’ll be seeing you in the newspapers before too long,” the Flash said. Then he disappeared in, well, a flash. Len smiled. 

“Who woulda thought I’d ever work with the Flash?”

****************************************************************************

The Flash turned out to be right about the newspaper thing. Less than a week into his career as Green Lantern, Len stopped a crowded bus from crashing into a restaurant when its brakes went out, and suddenly his face was all over the newspapers—-and the TV channels, too. 

“Lenny, you’re famous!” Lisa exclaimed over the phone. She was in New York City with her ice skating company and had seen the reports about the rescue on the news. 

“I…uh…kinda noticed,” Len replied. 

“Everyone’s talking about Central City’s new superhero, even here in New York. And I swear, half of the people who skate for Futura want to know if I can get them your autograph,” Lisa said. 

“They ain’t the only ones. It’s getting a little overwhelming to go out in costume during the day, what with all the fans and all.” Lisa gave the Snart snort. 

“Welcome to the limelight.” 

“You got any tips for dealing with this sorta stuff?” 

“Of course. You’ve come to the right place, big brother.” 

****************************************************************************

After a year and a half of being the Green Lantern, Len fought one of the Flash’s supervillains for the first time. While Len fought crime in Central City whenever he was on Earth, since he was the Green Lantern of all of Sector 2814, he had to be off in space a lot to fight off alien invasions and to help stop crime and natural disasters on the other planets in his sector. Because of this, the costumed criminals—who had started showing up within a few months of his debut as Green Lantern—spent most of their time fighting the Flash. 

He was patrolling Morrow Street, waiting for the weekly drug-related shootout to start, when the window of a nearby grocery store suddenly warped and twisted, and a man carrying a pretty good-sized bag of loot, and wearing an orange-and-green costume, stepped out of it. As he looked at the guy—the Mirror Master, if he was remembering right—Len found himself revising his opinion of his Green Lantern uniform. He still thought the spandex looked stupid, but at least it wasn’t orange and green.

Len used his ring to create a giant green claw, and used it to grab the bag of loot from the Mirror Master, who let out a cry of surprise. 

“Green Lantern?” 

“That’s right. And from what the Flash has told me, you must be the Mirror Master.” The Mirror Master smirked. 

“The one and only.” Len tried to remember the supervillain’s civilian name, but couldn’t come up with anything. Whoever he was, though, he was very cocky—cockier than Len had ever been as a crook. 

“How long you been out of prison?” 

“A few weeks. State prison’s a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there. So I arranged an early parole for myself. How long have you been back in Central City? Last I heard, you were in space,” the Mirror Master replied. 

“I got homesick, so after I stopped a flood on Agraria 7, I made my way back to Earth. I’ve been here for a couple days now,” Len said. 

“And you’re wasting your vacation on stopping me?” Mirror Master asked. 

“You surrender quietly, and that’ll open up a lot of free time for both of us,” Len replied. The Mirror Master laughed. 

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. I don’t want the kind of free time I’ll end up with if I surrender,” he said. He pulled out a strange-looking prism, and, when Len fired a beam at it in the hopes of knocking it out of his hands, the prism didn’t just reflect the beam back—it split the beam into a rainbow of seven differently-colored light beams, all of which shot in Len’s direction. Len automatically threw up a shield, and realized a second too late that the yellow beam wouldn’t be blocked by the shield. This beam hit him square in the chest and sent him hurtling towards the ground. He managed to save himself from colliding with the ground by quickly creating a giant pile of green blankets, but the impact was still enough to knock the wind out of him—and to send the Mirror Master’s bag of loot flying out of his hands.

“My prism shield works even better against your Green Lantern beam than I predicted it would!” the Mirror Master exclaimed. As Len struggled to regain his breath and get back on his feet, Mirror Master pulled out another device, and suddenly there were dozens of Mirror Masters.

“As much as I’d love to stick around and engage you in a battle of light manipulation, I have places to go and jewelry to fence. So…catch me if you can!” All of the Mirror Masters started moving at once. Len blasted several to pieces, then realized that he was being stupid. If he wanted to catch the Mirror Master, all he had to do was command the ring to find the real one. 

“Mind findin’ the actual human in all those reflections?” he asked. A few seconds later, a green light appeared over one of the Mirror Masters. He was one of many who seemed to be carrying the bag of loot. He didn’t want to take any more chances with the prism shield, so instead, he grabbed the Mirror Master from behind with a giant green hand. The Mirror Master reached for what was probably another weapon he had hidden on his costume, but before he could get to it, Len ordered the ring to create a pair of green handcuffs around his wrists. Then, just to be on the safe side, he also ordered the ring to remove any hidden weapons from the costume. A few seconds later, an improbable number of mirrors, prisms, and ray guns were floating in the air, suspended in green bubbles. How in the world did the Mirror Master manage to fit that much stuff in such a skintight costume? 

Len then used the ring to lower the Mirror Master, his loot, and all of the confiscated weapons back to the ground. As soon as his feet touched the ground, the giant hand vanished, but the handcuffs remained, and the weapons continued to float in their green bubbles. 

“How’s that for light manipulation?” he asked as he started floating the weapons down to the ground. 

“Don’t break any of the mirrors! Don’t you know that’ll bring seven years’ bad luck?” the Mirror Master shrieked as one of the mirrors hit the ground. Len snorted. 

“It must really suck for somebody who fights using mirrors to be superstitious about breakin’ ‘em,” he said. The Mirror Master continued to struggle against the cuffs—and then, all of a sudden, his costume gave off such a bright light that even Len, with his goggles that were designed to filter out excess light, was nearly blinded. 

The costume was gimmicked—which meant that he needed to get it off of the Mirror Master before he got away. There was a flare of green light, and then Len could see again. Although since the first thing he saw was the Mirror Master wearing nothing but a gray undershirt, blue socks, and yellow polka-dotted underwear (seriously?), he wasn’t totally sure that was actually a good thing. 

“What did you do? Where’s my costume?” the Mirror Master screamed. 

“You were blinding me with it, so I told the ring to get it off of you. Believe me, I’m regretting it as much as you are. Who wears polka-dotted underwear?” 

“It was on sale!” As the initial shock of seeing the Mirror Master in nothing but his underclothes wore off, Len started to focus on the younger man’s features, which he could now see a lot more clearly. Perfectly styled brown hair, big brown eyes, ski-jump nose—-wait. He’d seen this face before, and not just on wanted posters. 

“And give me my costume back! You can’t drag me to CCPD Headquarters in my underclothes at two in the afternoon. I’d never be able to live that down.” 

“Sam? Sam Scudder?”

“Of course I’m Sam Scudder! It’s not like my identity’s a secret. Now give me my costume back!” 

The Mirror Master’s identity might not have been a secret, but it was news to Len. Apparently, while he’d been off in space, the pretty boy he’d had to save from getting shivved when they were in prison together had become a supervillain. 

“Do you remember a guy named Len Snart, by any chance?” he asked. Sam looked at him with obvious confusion. 

“Yeah, I remember him. He was in prison with me while I was serving my sentence for robbery, and he saved my life while he was there. If he ever shows up again, I owe him a favor—but why do you care about that?” 

  Len let the glasses vanish from his face. He was sure the Flash would probably blow a blood vessel in his brain if he saw him doing this, but hey—it wasn’t like his identity was a secret, either. 

“Because you’ve found him. It’s been a long time, Sam,” he said awkwardly. After a full thirty seconds of staring in open-mouthed shock, Sam finally found his voice. 

“The Green Lantern is an ex-con? An ex-con that I know?” 

“Uh, yeah.” 

“How did a convicted felon end up as part of the space police?” Sam asked. 

“I get asked that a lot. And I still have no idea,” Len replied. There was an awkward pause. 

“So, what’s it like working on the other side of the fence?”

“A lot more rewarding than I thought it’d be.” It was true. Even though he had promised to become a good guy, Len had initially assumed that it wouldn’t be very much fun. He had been wrong. Sure, there were still days—a lot of days, really—where he missed the rush of living by his wits, outwitting the cops, and taking whatever he felt like, but that rush paled in comparison to how good it felt to know that what he was doing was saving lives. To know that his sister could finally be proud of her big brother, and that his grandfather would be happy to see how he had turned out. 

“Rewarding?” Sam echoed. 

“Yeah. You probably won’t listen to me, because I wouldn’t have before I got a wake-up call in the form of a literal crashing spaceship, but—turnin’ over a new leaf and goin’ straight’s the best thing you can do for yourself—not to mention for everyone around you,” Len replied. A dark look spread across Sam’s face. 

“You want me to do what you did? Give up crime and become some sort of superhero?” he asked. 

“Why not? If I can do it, somebody with a brain like yours would have no problem.” Sam shook his head. 

“Because I know what being a superhero gets you in the end. It gets you killed.” 

“Is that a threat?” Len asked. 

“From me? No. Never. I owe you my life—and I’m not one for killing anyhow. It would take the glamor out of being the Mirror Master.” 

“Then why’d you say it?”

“As a warning.” 

“You got a funny way of warning people, Sam.”  The Mirror Master cocked his head and seemed to ponder something. 

“This isn’t working. So let’s try this. Since you’re determined to hear what I said as a threat, take it as a threat from the rest of the underworld. There are plenty of them who don’t have the standards that I have. If you keep interfering with them, eventually one of them will kill you. Growing up under the Candy Man’s thumb taught me that.” 

“I ain’t afraid of the Candy Man,” Len replied. 

“I know. You aren’t afraid of anything, if what I understand about the Green Lantern ring is true. But you should be. I don’t want to watch anyone else I know get killed playing hero.” 

“I’ll be careful. I always am. Now, let’s get you to CCPD before—” 

“Green Lantern! Green Lantern! How did you capture the Mirror Master?” 

“Before the paparazzi shows up,” Len muttered. As the cameras flashed, Sam’s cheeks went bright red, and he darted behind Len. The Mirror Master was still going to be on the front page of the newspaper in his underclothes tomorrow, but Len couldn’t really blame him for wanting to hide. 

“So, you know how I said I wasn’t going to kill you?” Sam hissed. 

“Yeah,” Len replied. 

“I meant it. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to make things very difficult for you if we ever fight again.” 

“Hey, don’t blame me for this. If you had surrendered quietly when I asked, this wouldn’t have happened.” Sam gave out a sad little whine. 

“I’m going to be the laughingstock of the underworld…” 

*****************************************************************************

Len had thought he had done a good job at keeping in touch with Lisa. Over the seven years he had been the Green Lantern, he’d visited her every time they were both in Central City, attended at least four of her shows every year, and talked to her on the phone at least once a month. 

“I don’t care if he’s your partner, Lenny! I want the Flash to suffer—the way I suffered when he killed my boyfriend!” 

Len was starting to get the feeling that he hadn’t done quite as good a job of keeping in touch as he had thought. 

“You have a boyfriend? You never mentioned him before.” 

“I couldn’t tell you, because I knew you wouldn’t approve.” Len sighed. 

“Lisa, I’m an ex-con. Who exactly were you dating that I would have had a leg to stand on in terms of disapprovin’ of him?” 

“Roscoe Dillon—but you probably know him better as the Top,” Lisa said. Len’s mouth dropped open. 

“As in the supervillain who died of a brain aneurysm a few weeks ago? That Top?” Lisa nodded. Well, that explained why Lisa had thought he would disapprove. Even aside from being a supervillain, the Top had been a stuck-up snob—one who was freakishly obsessed with tops. Of all the Flash’s supervillains, he was one of the last ones Len would have wanted his sister to date. 

“Yes. Flash’s vibrations induced Roscoe’s aneurysm the last time they fought. He killed my boyfriend—and I’m going to make him pay!” Lisa shrieked. 

“Lisa, it was an accident. You know it was an accident. Nobody could’ve ever guessed that—” 

“What I know is that my Roscoe is dead because of him!” 

“It was an accident! If I had killed somebody accidentally, would you want their girlfriend to kill me?” Len asked. Lisa’s eyes narrowed. 

“Lenny, I didn’t come here for you to talk me out of this. I’m here to warn you to stay out of my way,” she said. 

“I can’t do that, Lisa.” 

“What do you mean, you can’t do that?”

“The Flash is my friend, and he’s a good man. I understand you’re upset about your boyfriend, but—I can’t let you kill him because he accidentally caused a supervillain to die.” Lisa burst into tears.

“Lenny, you don’t understand! I need this! I need to make him pay! Revenge is all I have left, now that Roscoe’s dead and you’re gone all the time!” Len swallowed hard. 

“Lisa, please. If you attack the Flash, I’ll have to arrest you. I don’t want to have to do that. I don’t wanna send my little sister to prison,” Lisa’s eyes went wide with shock.

“You’d side with the Flash over your own sister?”

“If it means keepin’ my friend alive? And keepin’ you from becomin’ a murderer? I have to,” he replied. 

“You promised you would always protect me! Are you going to break that promise again?” The words twisted like a knife in Len’s gut. 

“I promised I would protect you, and I will. I’ll never leave you alone again. But that don’t mean I’ll stand by and let you kill an innocent man!” 

“So that’s how it is, is it? You’re going to choose your cop friend over me?” Lisa demanded. 

“No, Lisa. But I’m not gonna choose you over him either.” The look of icy hatred in Lisa’s eyes sent a shiver down Len’s spine. 

“You’re just like our father. So I’ll tell you what I told him the last time I saw him. If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you.” 

As Lisa turned on her heel and walked away, Sam’s voice echoed in Len’s mind. 

“Since you’re determined to hear what I said as a threat, take it as a threat from the rest of the underworld. There are plenty of them who don’t have the standards that I have. If you keep interfering with them, eventually one of them will kill you.” 

Len hadn’t been afraid of that prospect at the time. But back then, he had never thought that his sister would be one of the crooks trying to kill him.

He was more than scared now. He was terrified. 

******************************************************************************

Lisa was a Snart. When she attacked the Flash, Len had shown up to stop her—and she had kept her word. She tried to kill him, and, even though she hadn’t succeeded, she’d killed a part of him all the same when she’d forced him to fight against the little sister he’d only ever wanted to protect. 

It wasn’t quite enough to make him wish he’d never taken up the superhero gig, not with all the good he’d done, but it was still awful. His little sister was in prison, and she wanted him dead. How was he supposed to move on from that? 

Suddenly, one of the mirrors in his apartment warped and twisted, and the Mirror Master stepped out. 

“If you’ve changed your mind about killing me, go ahead. You’ll never have a better chance than now,” Len said weakly.

“I’m not going to kill you. You’re a pain in the neck, and your constant attempts to get me to reform and put myself in the line of fire are really getting old—but I still owe you my life. And for what it’s worth, I’m really sorry about what happened with your sister. You didn’t deserve that,” Sam said. 

“Why’re you here, Sam?” 

“I’m here to tell you that I’m going to try to keep an eye on your sister and make sure she doesn’t get into too much trouble–either while she’s in prison or when she escapes. Because you know she’s going to. She’s a Snart, just like you.” 

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. She tried to kill me when I got in her way, and I’m her brother. I don’t think she’d even pause before killin’ you.”

  “Who said anything about getting in her way? I’m no hero, and I’m not about to try to stop her. I’m just going to tip you off if she needs help—or, more likely, if she’s coming after you and you need to be on guard,” Sam replied. 

“Well—thanks, then. But this don’t mean I’m gonna just let you go the next time I catch you stealin’ somethin’,” Len said. Sam laughed.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. Without you and the Flash, life would be far too easy—which is why I’m not actually here.” Sam suddenly shattered into a million pieces on Len’s floor. Len swore. 

Another mirror duplicate. 

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and Len went over and opened it. The Flash was standing on the other side, holding a gallon of Len’s favorite chocolate crunch ice cream. 

“I…I understand if you don’t want company right now, but I wanted to check in on you just in case you did. And bring you that ice cream you like,” he said. 

“Come on in. I could probably use the company—and I could definitely use your speed to help me clean up the mess my last guest left me with,” Len replied. The Flash glanced over to the pile of glass that had been the Mirror Master duplicate. 

“I take it the Mirror Master dropped by?” he asked.

“The guy can make holographic images that vanish without leavin’ a trace. Why does he always insist on sendin’ mirror duplicates that break into pieces when he wants to talk to me without gettin’ caught?” Len replied. The Flash promptly zipped over to the pile of glass, and after only a few seconds, all the glass was stored in some plastic bags and the bags were in Len’s trash can. 

“Thanks.” 

“It was nothing. Where should I put the ice cream?”

“The mini fridge is—” There was a red blur, and Len just barely saw the fridge door open and close. 

“You ever thought about hirin’ yourself out as a pizza delivery guy? You’d make a mint.” 

“If I ever lose my job as a police scientist, I’ll keep that in mind,” the Flash replied. Then he actually pulled off his mask, to reveal a blonde man with bright blue eyes. He was a lot better-looking than Len had ever been, and if he hadn’t known how desperate the Flash was to keep his identity a secret, he would’ve wondered why the guy even bothered to wear the mask. 

“My name’s Barry Allen, and I work for the CCPD’s forensics lab.” 

“You’re giving up your secret identity? Why now?” Len asked.

“Because you just risked your life to protect me from your own sister. If that wasn’t enough to earn my complete trust, I don’t know what else would be.” Len was suddenly struck by a horrible revelation. 

“Wait a minute. If you’re Barry Allen, then when Lisa was goin’ after Iris West-Allen, she was goin’ after your wife,” Len said. Barry nodded. 

“I’m afraid so. Len—I’m so sorry.” 

“You’re sorry? What are you sorry for? I’m the one who should be apologizin’! My sister was tryin’ to murder you and your missus!” 

“She tried to kill you, too. I know how much you love your sister—-and I can’t even imagine what it would be like to have my own sister try to kill me,” Barry replied. 

And suddenly the dam broke, and Len found himself crying for the first time in decades. 

When the tears finally ran out, he looked up at Barry wearily. 

“The funny thing is, the worst part wasn’t her tryin’ to kill me. It was when she looked me in the eye and told me that I was just like our old man. You…you know what he was like. That’s how much my sister hates me,” he said.

“You know, Len, if you wanted to stop operating as a superhero in Central City, I wouldn’t blame you. I can’t ask you to risk getting killed by your own sister.” For a second, Len seriously considered it. 

But then he thought about the people he’d saved, and the friends he’d made, and decided against it. As much as he loved his sister, and as much as he hated the idea of having to fight her again, he couldn’t leave Central City in the lurch. 

“You ain’t gettin’ rid of me that easily. Central City’s my home as much as it is yours, and I ain’t gonna abandon it just ‘cause things got tough for me.” 

**************************************************************************

Len had been Green Lantern for ten years when the Flash—Barry Allen— died saving the universe. 

The mantle didn’t sit vacant long. Barry Allen’s sidekick, Wally West, took up the job. He was still just a kid—barely twenty—and, though he’d had a good amount of experience as Kid Flash, that wasn’t quite the same thing as being the Flash in his own right. 

Which was why Len had to spend a lot of time giving the kid pointers—pointers which he more often than not ignored, and then fell flat on his face. 

If a thuggish ex-con like him had managed to become the Green Lantern, he had no doubt that the kid would be able to make his mentor proud one day—but sometimes that day seemed really far off. 

After an exhausting few hours of trying to referee a fight that had broken out between the kid and his current girlfriend, a police officer named Julie Jackam, Len was sitting at home and eating his chocolate crunch ice cream when there was a knock on his door. He took the ice cream with him as he opened the door–and nearly dropped it when he saw his sister on the other side. 

“Hi, Lenny. It’s been a long time,” she said. She looked older and wearier than he remembered her looking, but since she had spent the last three years in and out of prison and on increasingly-crazy revenge attempts, that probably wasn’t too surprising. He knew from personal experience—-a decade ago or not, some memories stuck with you—how exhausting being a crook could be. 

“Lisa?” he asked.

“I think this is the part where you close the door in my face. I tried to kill you, Lenny.” 

“Why are you here, sis?” Len asked. Lisa sighed. 

“I’ve spent the past three years trying to make the Flash suffer for hurting me. And now he’s dead, and I’ve got nothing to show for it. I’ve thrown away my skating career and my clean record, and I’ve burned every bridge I ever had—-and Roscoe’s still dead. I…I don’t know where to go from here, and, well—you’re the only person I know who might be able to tell me what to do next. Not that I expect you to after I tried to kill you,” she said. Len gave her a small smile. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to trust Lisa the way that he once had—it was really hard to go back to baseline after someone tried to kill you—but Lisa was still his little sister, and he was very glad to have her back. 

“Lisa, I promised I’d always look after you. And I’m gonna keep that promise.” 

“You shouldn’t. Lenny—I was horrible to you.” 

“Can’t argue with that. But I ain’t got a lot of room to throw stones when it comes to bein’ a criminal,” Len replied. 

“You never did anything like what I did.” 

“I never had someone I love die like you did, either. If you’d died while I was still a crook, I hate to think what I might’ve done.”

“This was a bad idea. I should go.” Lisa turned to leave, and Len used his ring to make a green stop sign appear in front of her.

“We’ve already lost each other twice, sis. Once because I made a bad call, and once because you did. I don’t want us to lose each other again,” he said. Lisa spun back around. 

“You can’t save everybody, Lenny.”

“I know. But I’d be a pretty lousy superhero if I didn’t try to save my own sister. Want some ice cream?” Lisa gave him a small smile. 

“Is it chocolate chunk?” 

“It’s always chocolate chunk.” 

The two of them were sitting together on Len’s couch, eating the last of the ice cream, when Wally suddenly came flying into the room through the door Len had forgotten to close. And for some reason, he was in nothing but his boxers. 

“How did Uncle Barry do this?” he asked. 

“Is that the new Flash? He’s kind of cute,” Lisa said.  Wally’s face went as red as his hair. 

“Who’s she?” he asked. 

“I’m Green Lantern’s crazy sister. My name’s Lisa Snart, but you probably know me as the Golden Glider,” Lisa said. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Wow. You’re even more gorgeous up close,” Wally said. Len groaned. The last thing he needed was for Wally to decide to strike up a romance with his sister. That would only end horribly for both of them—not to mention Julie Jackam. 

“Kid, focus! Why the heck are you runnin’ around in your boxers and nothin’ else?” Wally sighed. 

“It’s Dr. Alchemy! He’s back!” “Which one? Dr. Albert Desmond and Mr. Element, or the creepy gremlin?” 

“The gremlin. He transmuted my costume into oxygen in front of everybody, and now  the whole city thinks I’m a total idiot!” 

“In that case, kid, maybe you should—” 

And Wally was gone. 

“This must be some sort of cosmic payback for the headaches I used to give Kilowog,” Len muttered. 

Still, he wasn’t surprised when Wally found a way to triumph over Dr. Alchemy a few hours later. 

“Kid’s got the makings of a great hero in him. He just needs to slow down and learn how to control that temper of his.” Lisa smiled. 

“Well, if anyone would know what it takes to make a great hero, it would be you, Lenny.”

[ace-detectiv3]

HEYYYYYYYY EYYYYYYYY THIS IS WHERE YOU ARE CAUCASIAN 🦅🦅🔥🔥✨✨💥💥🇺🇸🇺🇸‼️‼️

Please excuse me as I bash my head onto a piano

La-dee-la-lee-la-la la-lee-la Hey! Break away, break away saibou reberu I don't need fuhon'i genjou ureiteru sugata shigusa kokkei deshou Don't you think? Don't you think? I'm so lazy tabun sou Fine sound narabeteru dake no hito Trash, crash, toss away Don't you think? Don't you think? In this world kono atama ni wa What a beautiful maichiru hanabira bararaika nomitai na La-dee-la-lee-la-la la-lee-la (hey!) dare mo ga daitai (hey!) C,R,A,Z,Y (hey!) isshun no kanjou ni ride on, ride on, ride on, ride on (hey!) kokoro wa 95 (hey!) kyouki no samurai (hey!) chibashiraseta me de hiku kurai ready to die haroo hi wa nobori anata no sora makkuro na sora ara-arashiku hikichigitte hora sono basho de kikoete kuru kodou no shikake todoroku no wa onore no shirabe dareka no janai onore no shirabe ra-dda-dda ra-dda-dda me no mae ni hirogaru sekai wa Blue hitomazu saa Move move Speak about ikikata there's no need nani wo sonna ni harikitte erasou ni ah give me more ai wo ah migi mo hidari mo shiri mo shinaide iwanaide Don't you think? Don't you think? niyari kage ga warau (hey!) sekai wa taigai (hey!) C,R,A,Z,Y (hey!) kurikaesu you ni ride on, ride on, ride on, ride on (hey!) wakatte mo inai (hey!) are kore Authorize (hey!) Tell me something for the new idai na kitai no jidai no baiburu CLAP BACK Losin' my mind shooting my side Save it anata no sono shunkan Maybe nothing wrong, nothing wrong La-dee-la-lee-la-la la-lee-la (hey!) dare mo ga daitai (hey!) C,R,A,Z,Y (hey!) isshun no kanjou ni ride on, ride on, ride on, ride on (hey!)   kokoro wa 95 (hey!) kyouki no samurai (hey!) chibashiraseta me de hiku kurai ready to die haroo hi wa nobori anata no sora makkuro na sora ara-arashiku hikichigitte hora sono basho de kikoete kuru kodou no shikake odoroku no wa mada kore kara mada kore kara aa mou machiwabite tokei no hari reiji no machi takedakeshiku iza raise your voice hora sugu soko de hajimaridasu kokou no utage kanaderu no wa onore no shirabe yuiitsu muni no onore no shirabe

[forestshadow-wolf]

What if Soap and ghost were on a mission that turned south. Not because of the unpredicted gun fight. Or because the target tried to run.

Cw: Main Character Death

No they were almost always prepared for those kinds of complications. Almost expected them. It was very rare that things went to perfectly to plan, and it was almost disappointing when it didn't happen.

What they weren't prepared for was a botched opportunity to aquire some new intel.

It wasn't that they couldn't download the intel. They both always had a flash drive on them for just in case scenarios, like this one. It wasn't even that the intel was fucked... well, kinda...

They'd agreed that soap would grab the intel, ghost would start taking the target back to the exfil location, and wait for soap there. Easy enough, right?

He shucked the protection of his gloves, in favor of the dexterity he needed for the touch screen. Turns out grabbing intel was not so easy if said intel is bugged to detonate a bomb underneath the warehouse as soon as the download starts... there's a distinct *CLICK* and soap has half a second to think 'well I'm fucked'

And then he's opening his eyes to dust and debris bathed in the orange light of fire. There's something that digs into his back, right between his shoulder blades. His head rings. Or maybe that's his radio.

One hand paws at his radio, as he uses his other hand to push himself up. Both attempts in vain. His radio toned in his ear, and while he did manage to get standing it for only for about half a second before he collapsed. He released the button on his radio. Still it crackled unintelligibly.

Thank god he decided to look into electrical wiring for setting up a new model of charges because after a minute and a lot of fiddling, his radio garbled something half understandable.

"-NNY! HOW COPY? JOHNNY! HOW! COPY!"

"Ah'm alive. Warehouse blew."

"I know. You injured?"

"Aye, can't hold m'legs under me. How'd you get the target to confess to the bomb?" It felt like his head was swimming.

"I didn't. It was the giant bloody mushroom cloud. Don't. Move. I'm comin' for ya."

Oh. Yeah, that made more sense, huh.

"Aye, I'll wait fer ya, L.T."

Ghost asked him questions the whole while, keeping him awake. Soap questioned him back, ever the opportunist, to find out more about the man.

"Ghost." He says abruptly cutting off whatever ghost had been saying, as soon as his eyes fluttered opened. "Ah think... ah think ah'm losin' time."

He heard ghost curse under his breath, and his breathing pick up. "Stay awake, Johnny. You hear? Keep talkin' to me. Tell me-.. tell me 'bout your sister. How's she doin'."

"That's a new one. Never had anyone tell me ta keep flappin' my gums..." he coughs wetly, "Hey- is it supposed to be hard to breathe? That's not normal, right?"

Ghost goes really quiet on hsi end of the line then. And then he speaks up, really softly. "Johnny?"

"Yeah, L.T?"

"Liten to me very carefully. Have you been impaled?"

Soap looks down at himself. It's hard to breathe, but he's got nothing poking out of him, so, "no?"

Ghost curses again.

Oh. Hey was the fire that close before? Shouldn't ge be hot, not shivering his fuckin' balls off? Something's... thats... Something's definitely wrong. His eyelids threaten to fall closed.

Wait! No. He's supposed to stay awake. That's what ghost said... he thinks... right? You're not supposed to fall asleep. He learned that in basic didn't he? Why was it so hard to think? Maybe it was the shivering? Wait, but there was fire. He should be hot. He should be trying to get away from it... but he was so tired? He should sleep if he's tired, right? Listen to his body and all that.

Wait! But ghost said!

"Can you talk to me, L.T? 'M tired..."

"JOHNNY! Stay awake! You hear?" The volume of the garbled words startles soap awake again.

"Talk? W'na 'ear yer voice.." he slurs

Ghost answers him appropriately... he thinks. The voice is soothing. He could fall asleep to that voice so easily...

When ghost finds soap he's not breathing, his pulse is faint, and fire is creeping ever closer. He starts rescue breaths immediately. Next come the chest compressions. He feels something snap underneath his hands. He keeps going. Med-evac should be here by now he thinks.

PLEASE! JOHNNY, PLEASE!

he doesn't wake up. His pulse fades weaker and weaker.

He still has time. He still has time. He still has time. He. Still. Has. Time.

He's not losing him. He's not losing him He's not losing him. HE IS NOT LOSING HIM!

Oh... but the medical team pulls him away. He fights back. They drag him out of the building. He watches as they carry soaps lifeless body out through fire.

They don't even start chest compression again. They just lay him down in a body bag and zip it up

A gutteral, heart-wrenching scream rips through the air. It's him. He knows it's him. But he can't feel it. Can't hear it. Not really anyway. He screams, pushes, curses, shoves. Anything to bring Johnny back.

Johnny does not come back.

He collapses. They have to drag both him and Johnny the body back to the helo.

That's it. That's how it ends.

Nothing quiet and soft like they both hoped for. Nothing brilliant or spectacular. Not even taking the life of an enemy or saving a comrade's life. Just...

The autopsy report said a punctured lung.

The explosion must've broken his ribs. His best guess it that it punctured his lung when he'd tried to get up tjat first time. Then fluid began to fill his lungs. And neither of them knew. Not until it was too late anyway. Soap had gone into shock, and Ghost hadn't been able to get there fast enough. They said they didn't know how he survived so long with the filled lung.

But ghost knows. He stayed to talk to simon. Just for a little longer.

That's the only consolation he gets as he fills out the mission report. That soap's hear stopped beating to the sound of his voice. He'd always said simon had a lovely voice, he wasn't sure if he believed that but soap seemed to think so.

But what now... what... happens... now...

This was supposed to be like 2.5 sentences but it grew legs and ran away from me

[heartrpmusings]

MAGGIE LINDEMANN - HEADSPLIT lyric starters

RIP MY HEART OUT

"i ripped my heart out to give you life."

"you're the blood that flows through my veins."

"i'll be the shield that takes all your pain."

"i've been searching for a lifetime."

"every part of you is all mine."

"it's a foreign feeling - my wounds are healing."

"no one can shine as bright as you do, baby."

DIE FOR

"i'd hold my breath so you can breathe."

"reach out for my hand and follow me."

"find who you'd die for - that's who you live for."

"hold on to me now - 'til we're six feet in the ground."

"if you leave - would you find your way back?"

"without you - all the lights fade to black."

"guess that's why they say love is pain."

"you are the future - the vision i see."

"hold on to me now."

DEPRECATING

"how can you sleep in the dark when you're killing someone that is harmless?"

"believe in the bullshit you're lost in."

"how could you lie when you promised?"

"now karma's a bitch."

"if you love me, will you let me go?"

"if you loved me, you would let it show."

YOU HOLD MY LOVE

"you guard my heart from breaking."

"i've seen the truth beneath the lies."

"a part of me was left to die."

"trust has been my weakness."

"my soul has been too generous."

"for you, i'll always risk it."

"the love i feel for you's alarming."

"next to you is where i'm staying."

"nobody makes me feel like you do."

ONE LAST TIME

"the reaper's knocking - say your goodbyes."

"i'm losin' track of who i once was."

"think i'm scared i'll never love me."

"i try to hold on, but i'm losing grip."

"i'm going back to where i came from."

"i know it's easy to forget me."

24

"i can't catch the dreams i'm chasing."

"maybe i'm a little unstable."

"can i turn back the clock - just to make it stop?"

"i should be celebrating."

"add a year, blow out your candles."

"why am i tolerating?"

"what if i don't have a purpose?"

"this is what makes me feel worthless."

HOSTAGE

"hold me close - i overthink."

"hold me close - when my voice gets shaky."

"be patient with me."

"you bring me to safety."

"silence my thoughts."

"start to believe what i've been told."

"you keep me warm - my mind was cold."

"when you're next to me and i take your hand the fears let me go."

"when my mind feels lost and you shelter me - it sets me free."

"i'm in my head and it drives me crazy."

TAKING OVER ME

"anxiety is killing me."

"why can't i just let it be?"

"just another fuckin' day i'm drowning in these sins."

"hello, paranoia, acting like my best friend."

"i hear voices in my head - i bet they'll never end."