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Title: Burning and Breaking
Fandom: TGWTG/Spoony Experiment
Rating: R (or M, if going by FF.Net’s guidelines)
Characters: Black Lantern Spoony, Unnamed Original Female Character.
Pairings: BL!Spoony/OFC
Warnings: Mild Sex, Blood/Mild Gore, mentions of Prostitution, Death. Unbeta’d. Poorly written attempts at smut. Darkfic.
Disclaimer: All characters/concepts featured in this story belong to their respective owners. Any characters belonging to the author bear no intentional resemblance to any persons living or dead. This work is for entertainment purposes only.
Author’s note: For the TGWTG Live Journal Kink Meme prompt: “I miss Black Lantern
I always enjoyed reading the dark fics with Black Lantern Spoony in them, and I wouldn't lie if I said that I found his evilness really attractive and well...*looks at calender* It is the Halloween month. Can I get a BL!Spoony/anyone prompt please?
With maybe some dark scary themes thrown in for added atmosphere?” 

  It was almost cliché; an undead abomination—the kind of nightmarish creatures that parents had always tried to assure their children were nothing more than figments of their active imaginations—walking the streets of a world in which he no longer belonged.

  Had he still been alive, he would have been quick to mock the lameness of such a scenario, citing that it sounded like something out of the pages of someone’s pretentious vampire romance novel.

  Only, Spoony wasn’t a vampire—he was a Black Lantern; an ex-human brought back to life by the powers of a mysterious magical ring. He wasn’t sure how or why this power had chosen the body of a man whose life had been rather unspectacular prior to this point. But, none of that mattered to him.

  The Black Lantern ring’s unholy power raged through his veins like a fire, filling him with a burning hunger that he knew could not be satiated just anything. It was revenge and envy that drove his steps further. His world had been stolen from him from him by that giggling mad scientist and that pile of rat-filth that dared call himself by his name.

  How easily they had replaced him, he sneered. How quickly had they cast his corpse aside and forgotten them in favor of that inferior doppelganger. All of them would pay gravely for that error—he would make sure of it.

  A pang, like a thousand daggers, stabbed through his heart, forcing him to grunt and clutch his chest. A powerful wave of dizziness surged through him, leaving him weakened as it passed.

  That was the downside of having the powers of the undead, he laughed darkly. There was always a catch to them. After all, he supposed that the universe itself believed that not even creatures of Hell we’re allowed to be without weaknesses. Wouldn’t make things fair for the mortals, would it?

  His thoughts of revenge would have to wait, he told himself, at least until he had recharged.

  Quickly, his cold, hollow eyes took in the scene around him. He needed someone, he thought---someone who nobody would notice if they disappeared. Someone who could be easily be replaced and forgotten.

   Someone who’d been like him.

   Almost immediately, his eyes spotted her—a woman, somewhere in her mid-to-late twenties. She stood on the street corner, alone and not waiting for anyone in particular. Her blonde hair was tied up in two overly large pigtails by a pair of white, lace ribbons that matched her dress and stockings. Heavy black mascara dripped down her painted face, making her look almost like a porcelain doll.

    That must have been her gimmick, he thought; pandering towards those clients who had a fetish for the ‘innocent’ types.

    Sure, she looked innocent enough, but her eyes held the type of jadedness that told of the crushed dreams and faded hopes. Like him, she was dead but breathing; moving under some compulsion of circumstances beyond her control.

     He didn’t know what it was that brought her eyes to her specifically. He could have picked any one of these women or men on this street, each of them already dead in their own way—each waiting for their turn to be freed from their misery.

     Perhaps, he smirked; there was a part of him was a sucker for her type.

     There were no words spoken between the two as he approached her. Death had had a strange effect upon his countenance. While many a fangirl would admit that in life, Spoony was certainly dorkishly good looking, something about the Black Lantern Ring’s power had turned that charm into something devilish and nearly irresistible.

      She smiled at him, tilting her head ever so slightly as she twirled the tip of one of her blonde pigtails with her fingertips. A sparkle in her eyes, almost unnoticeable to any mere human, but not to an ex-human with heightened awareness like himself, told him that she didn’t see him as just any of the other guys she’d met in her line of work.

      She knew he was dangerous. Though, perhaps how dangerous was not something that she was fully aware of. And yet, she still wanted him. She wanted him more than he wanted her.

        With only a smirk, he followed her back to the neon-lit building she only half-jokingly called “her office”.


          It was hard to tell whether the lace and silk that decorated nearly every square inch of the tiny, darkened room masked the peeling paint and cracked walls, or made them more noticeable.

          It didn’t seem to matter to matter to the woman as she gently took his hands, sitting him down on the edge of the mattress, smiling at him with the faux innocent smile that she knew she wore too well.

            Her skin felt like fire against his cold skin as her fingertips gently traced paths along his arms, meeting at his chest, sliding under his black shirt as she skillfully but slowly guided it over his head.

            He whimpered faintly as her lips ghosted over the place where his shoulder and neck met, as his nose picked up the sweet scent of her flesh beneath her cheap perfume.

            The sweet, vaguely metallic scent surrounded him, irritating him in much the same ways that the color red angers a raging bull. Each beat of her heart mocked him---reminding him of the one thing that was stolen from him.

            He could easily kill her now, a voice in his head whispered, snapping her ribs and pulling out her heart would be so easy. And, wasn’t he hungry? Didn’t he sorely need her energy?

            Not yet, he thought as he kissed her deeply, pulling her close as he caressed her face with an icy, as his other hand rested over the curve of her hip. Just as fire could burn, it also provided warmth. He hated the scent and the feel of the life-force took for granted.

            And yet, he thought reveling in her shivers and needy moans as he teased her bare flesh, paying special attention to the parts of her where her pulse beat the strongest—he still wanted it.

            He wanted to feel even a flicker of the life that he’d so sorely missed—the life that the doctor and the clone had stolen from him. He wanted to feel her tantalizing warmth as his own. That should have been his heartbeat he felt pounding against his skin, not hers.

            His senses now burnt like wildfire, blinding him in a smoky haze of movement, sound and heat, as she threw him down on the bed with him pulling her on top of him.

            They both moved on instinct as their kisses became deeper, daring to venture away from their faces and necks. Their hands became bolder, groping, clawing and touching one another in ways that they knew would send sparks of ecstasy flaring through their quivering bodies.

            It was almost like a dance as they tried to match each other move for move. For ever finger she glided across his body, running though his hair, his hands caressed her body. Every bite and nibble her teeth laid on his bare skin, his own teeth bit at her. For every thrust and sway of their bodies, a complimenting movement was made in response.

            Each pleasured moan and wanting whimper was a sign of approval—an unspoken signal to the other that they’d touched on the right areas to send another electric shockwave through their bodies.

            Though, for him, perhaps it wasn’t any actual impulses in his body that were triggered, so much as the scent of her flesh, growing hotter and sweeter with each move they made.

            He felt as if he were starting to burn, as his hunger for her flesh grew too strong. Her heartbeat now felt like gunfire as it beat against her heaving chest, as if it were practically trying to break it’s way out of it’s prison.

            He could almost hear the otherworldly voice of the Black Lantern Ring echoing in his head, guiding his movements as his twitching fingers reached for her bare chest.

      Another tiny voice screamed at him, as his hand hesitated above her chest. He couldn’t do this. But, that voice seemed lost in the roar of the ring’s harsh whispers.

      You need this, it told him. The Black Lantern Ring is fueled by death—it was the only way you can continue existing.

      But, the little voice argued, I’m not a killer. Not really.

      Spoony wasn’t a killer, the Lantern Ring sneered, but you’re not him any more, are you?  Besides, did it not seem just a bit unfair for her to be taunting you with a life she took for granted—when your own  life  had been so viciously stolen from you?

    I didn’t want to die, the voice said growing fainter and fainter with each sound, I’m sotired…

So hungry….

so weak….


        And just as suddenly as it had come, the faint traces of humanity within the Spoony One were silenced, corrupted by the all consuming void of the Black Lantern’s dark magic.  Only a beast remained—a beast made all the more deadly and frightening by the fact that it had a human face and a human voice.

          A low, beast like growl echoed from the Black Lantern’s throat as his fingers dug into her chest, effortlessly piercing through flesh and snapping bones as if they were brittle twigs. Blood dripped heavily from the gaping wound in her chest as his hand wrapped around her still-beating heart, reveling in the satisfying snapping sounds it made as it was severed from the veins that once connected it to her body.

           She didn’t even have time to scream before he threw her lifeless body into a heap on the bed, watching as the last of her slowly cooling life’s blood spilled out, staining her white dress and the bed below with dark blood that almost looked black in this dark lighting.

           Her heart still in his hand, he wrestled his shirt back on. He closed his eyes, inhaling the welcoming scent of death and decay that radiated from the once beating heart in his hands.

       The Black Lantern Ring glowed in approval as it absorbed the energy of death and decay that floated around the room.

       He cast a look back at the corpse of the woman laying on the bed, her glassy, lifeless eyes staring up at him widely with a permanent look of shock and betrayal.

      It was almost a pity that he’d had to break something that looked so fragile and so gentle.

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