#he’d do this to booster gold though

[citranna]

Clark, having a bad day: God I hate Captain Marvel. Hope that guy has a terrible day. Projecting all hate from Lex Luthor back onto him. Wishing him the worst.

Billy Batson, under a bridge tonight: huh. little chillier then normal.

[l0vem41l]

mean when i'm nervous.

「 tws + notes: no tws, unedited as BAWLS, dc writer newbie but im very enthusiastic abt the comics and shows and movies, dog metaphor but insane and unsubtle, explicitly vigilante!reader in dick grayson’s part, dramatic asf but not really angst 」

「 gn!reader, can be platonic or romantic <3 」

↳ ft. bruce wayne, clark kent, richard "dick" grayson, and john constantine

author's note: so. we all know what my favourite thing right now is (⌒_⌒;) i still adore everything i used to write for,,, but i’ve been on my comic motives recently (*ﾟｰﾟ*) ! reading dc mostly but spider-noir and deadpool have been picked up along the way!!! um. anyways. if i get comfy enough, i might do more dc stuff but i get that this isn't my exact audience on this blog— sorry my loves (´＿｀。) </3 might write a part two cuz i love jason. and booster gold. and like every single one of them (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) halfway through writing this i realized everything feels very literal, so i feel the need to mention that this is not dog hybrid reader stuff but if u fw that u can imagine it that way

perhaps the habit of burning bridges you’re actively crossing isn’t a good idea. and you’re not an idiot, not in the slightest— but even if you were, everyone knows that needless self destruction when developing relationships is counterproductive.

you strike the match anyways, like it’s just a force of habit. another instinct.

if you spent life knowing that the hand only beats. why would you expect it to do anything else when it’s lowered towards you?

you learn to keep your hopes down, ears alert, and teeth sharp. you learn to get used to the taste of blood. to make things messy and complicated, and to end things when they need to be ended, because god knows it’s only self preservation when you do it.

you learn that the only way to survive is to bite— to hurt before something hurts you.

and one day, an unfamiliar hand that extends towards you decides to feed instead.

why do you still bare your teeth?

▸ BRUCE is unsure why he sticks around. he’s understanding, but also reasonably frustrated with your antics. it doesn’t evade him that they stem from something deeply rooted in your past— but he doesn’t know what to do about it. if there is anything to do.

at his core, he's a detective. he's got an eye for digging into strange pasts and a knack for knowing things he isn't supposed to. but in spite of his paranoia and hunger to know, bruce doesn't pry too much. he can do research on his own, without you ever having to realize.

you’re self-sufficient, he’ll give you that. you’re unsure sometimes of whether he’s proud that you can take care of yourself or irritated that you consistently insist on doing so. he’s unsure too. not like he lets you know.

it’s a mutual understanding the two of you share— he stays, you bite. yet bruce, unsurprisingly, doesn’t mind being bitten. he’d hope that the reason he’s sticking around is for the selfless reason of making sure you’re alright. though, the reality is, you’ve grown on him, whether you realize or not.

bruce has always been fond of strays.

▸ CLARK is nothing but patient. and that scares you beyond reason.

he sees the way you bare your teeth whenever someone gets too close for comfort to you. he knows when to back away, when to speak, when not to— he’s always attempting to never make you feel backed into a corner.

somehow, it makes you more anxious seeing just how much he understands about you. he knows just how to coax you out of the corner of your cage, how to bring you in closer, and it almost, almost convinces you to let your guard down.

the thought of that is terrifying.

you try barking, you try biting— and none of it works. clark doesn’t coddle you when you’re wrong— but he’s absolutely nothing but gentle. patient and understanding, sometimes you wonder how a man of steel can be so soft for someone like you.

▸ DICK isn’t dumb. it’s fairly easy for him to put two and two together. quickly, he figures out what he’s dealing with when he encounters you.

his conversations with you are never without a note of levity— a deliberate action on his end, you’re certain. he knows, you know, and because of it, everything feels oddly tense around him, even with the attempts to banter.

it’s too late to run. his observant gaze has caught a glimpse of you through your one way glass, and he’s chosen to meet your eyes with a smile. there's a sense of foreboding that gnaws at your gut, anxiously anticipating what might be lurking under that grin of his.

on his end, there are no malicious intentions. he doesn’t really have ulterior motives when it comes to you.

most times, he chooses to defend you and be the one standing at your side when no one else does. you don't understand why he insists on offering you friendship when all you do is pull away.

after a long night of patrolling the streets of gotham, you find the two of you leaning on the railing of a rooftop side by side. your eyes are on this cityscape of gotham. his are on you.

“you keep on insisting i’m not as bad as i seem,” you mutter under your breath.

late nights make for loose lips. he’s pleasantly surprised to hear you continue the thought instead of attempting to take it back.

“do you just hate being right?” you snort, allowing your gaze to flit over to him just for a second.

"no." dick smiles, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “i think you just hate the fact that i could be.”

▸ you tried not to bother with CONSTANTINE. the day the two of you met, you didn’t even introduce yourself.

john constantine’s presence alone reeks of trouble, as acrid and suffocating as the cigarette smoke that clings to his tan trenchcoat. you are attuned to things like that. he notices.

one thing you actually enjoy about him? he doesn’t chase. he’s a nosy one, for certain, sticking his nose into places no one in their right mind would— but for the most part, he steers clear of yours. initially, you think it’s because your urge to be left alone by him is so prevalent that he’s just chosen to heed the warning and not approach when unwanted.

but he’s not a man known for abiding by rules. he’s much more curious with you than you notice or prefer. in a way, your distance has made you more myth than man, more tale than tangible— you are a rumor passed through whispers between lips, a silent shadow lurking in the corner of the room… and he loves a good mystery.

“c’mon. you're actin’ like ‘m gonna bite your head off, luv,” he chuckles, lighting up the cigarette between his fingers.

i'd probably be the one doing that if i got any closer. you keep that thought in your head, standing with a gap between the two of you as always.

he doesn't miss how you avoid looking into his eyes like his gaze could murder, instead, focusing your gaze on the cherry of the cig, burning bright red.

“not much for a wee natter, hm?”

the quick shake of your head only makes his smirk grow. you could just walk away… so why exactly were you sticking around?

“fine by me. quiet company’s welcome.” that’s a sentence he’d probably never say to anyone else. in a strange way, he feels like he knows you well enough to be comfortable with the words that hang in the air.

it’s weird. you’re completely unknown, and yet, an irrational part of his mind keeps nagging at him to look just a little closer at you. sometimes, when he listens to it, he catches a glimpse of something silent in your eyes— an all too familiar pain of a person who can’t help but hurt the things that they cling onto.

so that’s why you’re keen on keeping everyone at arms length. it almost makes him laugh to think how similar the two of you are, plain as day, and yet unnoticed by you— a person who won’t even meet his eyes.

— reblogs always appreciated!

[fluentmoviequoter]

Butterflies Aren't Just for Kids

Part 2 of Crushes Aren't Just for Kids

Pairing: JLU!Bruce Wayne x fem!JL!reader

Summary: Bruce hasn't asked you out yet, despite the League's interest in your new relationship. When he finally has enough and takes you away from their prying eyes and endless questions, you tell him why you hid your feelings for so long.

Warnings: fluff!!! John, Diana, and Wally get warnings for being nosy

Word Count: 1.6k+ words

A/N: Have I mentioned that I love this show? I considered basing this on The Once and Future Thing (s1 finale) but think that would be better as an independent rewrite. Also, I love Wally so much!!

Picture from Pinterest

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Plenty has changed since Morgaine Le Fay turned you, Bruce, Clark, Diana, and John into kids and back into adults to defeat her son. Bruce learned about your crush on him, as did John and Diana, and Bruce hinted that he’d ask you out soon. Being a superhero vigilante is a full-time job, though, and he has yet to find the time to do that.

Every time you set foot in the Watchtower, John and Diana give you questioning looks. You can tell they want to pry and hear about what’s happening with you and Bruce, but you also know they won’t believe you when you say nothing. Luckily, you still have easy access to all the hiding places Bruce installed in the multi-million-dollar space base.

While you sit in the cafeteria and eat, your thoughts drift to Bruce. He’s off somewhere fighting an alien with Clark, yet all you want is another quiet moment at his side.

“Hey,” Wally greets as he sits.

“Hi, Walls,” you reply with a smile.

“What’s up with all the weird looks?”

“What do you mean?”

Wally looks down and quickly counts the food items on his four trays. He speeds back into the cafeteria for another pudding, and you brace yourself for the wind that follows his return.

“Everyone keeps looking at you like there’s something big happening. They used to look at me like that, but you’re hogging my attention,” Wally answers.

“Sorry about that.”

“Seriously, it’s impossible to miss all of the looks. John and Diana look ready to snap every time you walk into the room.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” you lie. “I’m sure whatever they think is happening will pass soon and all eyes will be back on you.”

“As they should be, right?”

“Right, Walls.”

You excuse yourself, but not before you offer your cake to Wally. You ignore the looks Wally mentioned as you walk toward J’onn’s station in the heart of the Watchtower.

“J’onn, can you send me home? I don’t think I’ve got anything else to do up here,” you request.

“Certainly. I’ll let you know if we need you to return.”

“Thanks.”

A light blinds you temporarily, and when you open your eyes, you realize someone must have told J’onn you have a new home.

“I have got to talk to John about boundaries,” you mumble as you begin the short walk to Wayne Manor.

A few days later, you haven’t even seen Bruce. You’ve been pining after him for years, though, so what’s a few more days before that date he said he’d take you on? As long as it isn’t a theme park, you think as you walk through the Watchtower.

“We need to talk,” Diana says as she pulls you into a corner.

“About what?” you ask.

“You and Bruce,” John answers, stepping out of the shadows.

“What is this, an intervention? There’s nothing to talk about!” you whisper harshly.

“What happened after we left?” Diana inquires.

“He took me home. If you must know, he implied that he’d ask me out, but that is it! He may not even like me anymore.”

John shakes his head with a knowing look on his face. He can read you too well to lie to him.

“Look, I’m trying to be patient and wait for him to decide, ask, whatever, but it is getting very hard to do with you two drawing attention to us! Booster Gold asked me where the boyfriend was, and he didn’t even know who he was talking about!”

“Booster never knows what he’s talking about,” John argues.

“That is not the point.”

John smirks before he asks, “So, when you and Bruce have kids, do you think they’ll look like you two did in Mordred’s kingdom?”

The door behind Diana opens, and you realize you’ve been having this conversation outside Bruce’s workshop. While he was in it.

“Stop,” Bruce demands.

Diana nudges you, and you push her away. You’ll do something, but not because she encouraged you to, because you want to.

“What?” you ask with an exaggerated pout. “You don’t want to have kids with me, Brucie?”

Bruce rolls his eyes at your reply, but John and Diana stay beside you despite his bat glare.

“Are you going to ask her out?” Diana asks. “Because we’re all waiting for you to do something.”

“Clearly,” Bruce replies. “We’re leaving. Lantern. Diana.”

Before John or Diana can speak again, J’onn transports you and Bruce away. They’re left facing each other with a few answers and more questions.

“Where do you think they went?” Diana inquires.

“I’m- I’m not sure I want to think about that,” John answers slowly. “She is my friend, you know.”

“So is he.”

“Yeah,” John says, his voice laced with sarcasm and disbelief. “Sure, he is. Best friend, really.”

When you arrive in the manor, pressed to Bruce’s side just as you were in the amusement park, you don’t hesitate to turn and hug him. Bruce’s arms wrap around you loosely, and you step back when Alfred enters the living room.

“I’ll assume you’re the reason I’ve been getting so many dirty looks and questions from the League?” Bruce asks.

His lips are up at the edges, and you think he will smile at any moment. You can’t tell by looking at him, but Bruce feels like a kid again when he’s with you. He didn't experience childhood like he should have, so he lets himself be genuine with you. He’s done wasting time, he decides.

“You know, I’ve been fighting by your side for a long time,” you say. “But your hugs are way better than your grappling hooks.”

Bruce shakes his head and leads you toward the couch before Alfred returns with popcorn, a tray of snacks, and your favorite drink that you did not ask for nor mention. You thank him, and he winks at you quickly. He’s glad to see Bruce happy and to have visitors in the manor again.

“I should’ve hugged you sooner,” you muse as you reach for the food. “Could have been spending time here for years by now.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Bruce asks softly.

“Why didn’t you?” you counter. You lick your lips before answering, “You’re important to me, Bruce. I didn’t want to jeopardize our relationship or the team, or, worse, put you in danger by saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. There were too many unknowns.”

“So, you planned to, what? Wait until I said something?”

“Caged butterflies,” you whisper. “Cages don’t hold them very well. I would’ve said something eventually, but Morgaine put me in a position where I didn’t have to.”

“Then, technically, John told me.”

“You’re a jerk, you know that?”

Bruce smiles, and the butterflies you felt as a kid revive to create a hurricane in your heart. He leans in and brushes his lips over your cheek before saying, “I’ve been told… I’ve also been told crushes aren’t just for kids.”

“Jerk,” you mumble again as you turn your face toward Bruce.

“Oh! Oh!” John yells when you step out of J’onn’s transporter and onto the Watchtower. “Someone’s glowing. How them butterflies feeling?”

“Like kids again,” you answer honestly. “I guess I should thank you for forcing me to do something.”

“Lanterns have been making dreams come true for millennia.”

“There’s no way that’s true.”

“You don’t know that. You’re not a Lantern, or a mind reader.”

“It’s not true,” J’onn calls without looking away from his console.

“Man, we need better friends,” John tells you.

“You are my better friend.”

“Save that lovey stuff for the boyfriend.”

“I thought he was Diana’s boyfriend,” you argue, tilting your head as you hide your smile.

“The ploy of a mastermind to learn the truth,” John answers with a shrug.

“You really are spending too much time with Wally.”

John stands and beckons you to follow him. You do so wordlessly, but you run into someone as you round a corner beside him. Bruce grasps your arms gently to keep you upright before dropping his head to look at you.

“Here comes the bride,” Wally sings under his breath.

You and Bruce look up quickly, surprised to see Wally has joined John, and they are watching your interaction with far too much interest.

“And that’s why we’re glad Wally wasn’t included in Mordred’s spell,” you grumble against Bruce’s chest.

“What spell?” Wally asks. He doesn’t give anyone time to answer before he rambles, “Hey, have you told her about your childhood, Bats? I mean, you’re definitely a loner now, but good luck learning anything about him; he’s one tough walnut to crack.”

“I know,” you and John say together.

Bruce tightens his grip on you before requesting J’onn send him home. The Watchtower is no longer a haven from Gotham, not with the League’s new favorite topic of conversation: you and Batman.

“We should buy a vacation house,” Bruce says as you open your eyes in Gotham.

“Yeah. In Coast City, where Ollie can find us and bring the rest of the fan club,” you joke.

Bruce stays quiet for a moment, and you begin to ask him what’s wrong, but he cuts you off.

“Get ready. We’re going on that date I promised,” he says.

“You never actually asked,” you point out.

“Will you go on a date with me?” Bruce asks.

“I’d love to.”

“Then go get ready. I’m taking you somewhere we can be ourselves.”

“Where could you possibly take me that Bruce Wayne won’t be recognized? And if you say an amusement park I will walk out right now.”

“I was thinking Metropolis. The roof of the Daily Planet. I called in a few favors.”

“I take it back. You weren’t a cute kid… you’re still cute.”

“And you still have trouble with maintaining eye contact.” Bruce leads you to the stairs and spreads his hand over your lower back before he whispers, “We’ll work on it.”

[ourrechte-blog]

Part 3 of, Funny take on Daddy Danny and DC

Bruce working away at the Batcomputer was what Dick stumbled upon when he arrived in the cave. "A third kid already?" he asked Bruce as the image of a boy with dark hair and blue eyes was on the screen Bruce's response was to bring up the image of a girl, younger than the boy, with the same traits. "This is Danielle, though she prefers to go by Dani. I offered to take her in before she panicked" Dick whistled. "Someone's learned stranger danger a little too well," he remarked. "So what does that to do with the other kid?" A video was then played. Danielle running, a net falling onto her, and then she screamed for Daddy. "A net, seriously, Bruce?" Dick teased. "That was unrelated. It just caught her due to irresponsible users," Bruce defended before the angle changed. The boy from earlier launching out the window, unharmed by the glass shards, and landing protectively in front of the girl "Is... is that a Kryptonian kid?" Dick muttered. The video continued to play before he spoke again. "Wait, he's a time traveller?! Who thought that would be a good idea to let a kid have access to time travel?" "Someone more responsible than whoever gave Booster Gold the same ability," Bruce said as another clip was played "Guys, no!" Danny nearly yells, causing his daughter to flinch from his tone. "The last time the past was changed, Dad ended up with ecto acne and 40 pounds heavier while Mom ended up in a loveless and childless marriage!" "But Danny, don't you want to go back and raise her? And give us a grandchild to spoil?" "They're taking the whole thing rather well, all things considered," Dick remarks. "If anything, it's kinda disturbing they'd encourage him to be a teen parent" "The Fentons are well known to be quacks in the science community, though very credible once their ghost portal started working," Bruce explains "Ghosts? Why haven't I heard of this before now?" Dick asks "It was never relevant in any of our cases," Bruce answered "But you've worked with a ghost before!" "Yes, but a ghost wanting to solve his own murder has no bearing on needing to know about a portal made to the afterlife," Bruce defended. "It says here that the portal didn't work initially until Daniel went to take a look at it" "And that somehow gave time powers instead of ghost ones?" "My current hypothesis, it failed to connect and instead gave him access to time travel, which he then used to correct the portal," Bruce explains as Danny then touched a floating grandfather clock and vanished with his child in tow "Wow, a grandfather clock too? You sure you're not looking to adopt him too?" Dick teases, "He already takes after you. If a bit more budget friendly"

------

Bruce: He made a time portal Tennant: The untempered schism Me: And if I used the core fanon, he'd have 2 hearts as well

[perenians]

in volume two issues 1-10 of booster gold, booster learns that saving the people he thinks he ought to save leads to disastrous consequences, or is impossible to do (if they’re key moments in the time stream). booster tried (and failed) multiple times to save barbara gordon from getting shot in the spine, and tried (and succeeded!) to save ted kord, only for ted to realize that his death was necessary and sacrifice himself anyway.

i would agree that booster DOES see the weight of changing moments in time, but also that he is prone to being moved by empathy. i’d put boost at a strong ‘probably not’ for whether he’d try to save bruce’s parents, though the possibility isn’t entirely absent imo. he knows that earth would be worse off sans-batman. two deaths are not worth potentially thousands of lives more. booster understands grief intensely, but he’s learned that the time stream must be protected above seemingly all else.

so yeah, ultimately boos wouldn’t, but i think there’s a bit more nuance, op.

They Would Not Fucking Say That! Preliminary Poll

Michael Jon Carter (Booster Gold)

From: Batman (2016) #45-47 Context: Batman and Booster Gold...exist? Honestly there's zero background to this one, they hadn't interacted at all in the Rebirth universe up to that point.

Booster goes back in time to save Bruce's parents, inadvertently creating a worse timeline.

Booster is a TIME MASTER. His entire purpose is protecting the sanctity of the timestream. On the rare occasions he has seriously tried to tamper with it, it's to prevent his own tragic backstory or to save his best friend's life. Why would he do something so completely anathema to his entire shtick for BATMAN, who he is awkward work colleagues with AT BEST? They aren't friends! Booster isn't invested in Bruce! He's also not the colossal idiot King paints him as and knows better than to pull stupid shit like this! In fact, Booster appeared immediately before this story in a Superman storyline telling Superman that no, they can't actually go back in time and save Krypton...WHICH IS THE CORRECT ANSWER. So why, months later, is he saving Thomas and Martha Wayne and creating a dystopian timeline where Selina can only say "meow?" (I'm not joking. That's what happens if the Waynes live.) HE WOULD NEVER.

As always, remember to check the notes for info others may have shared, and reblog to help increase reach!

Submissions close Wednesday August 23, 11:00 pm EDT

[bonebrokebuddy]

Choked on my soul reading your wip thing booster gold being a Tiktok star I beg of you to elaborate

okokok. this is the lighthearted section of a fic concept that deals with the potential political impact and position Booster would have gained & lost as a result of him trying to get the most attention possible. But it backfires, causing him to lose most of his notoriety & alienating the fanbase he previously had. Thus landing him in the position where he is generally in the comics of desperately trying to regain the fame and status he once had & trying to make up for the lost money via so many fucking brand deals.

Because to me, that shit is fascinating and it would also be hilarious to see Booster as a "was been" famous influencer and highlighting his antics when he was in full popularity vs where he ended up after it all went down, would be very interesting. So if you want to know more about that side of this idea, please feel free to send in another ask about it!

--------

Do you think Booster Gold would be great or horrible at social media/TikTok? Because the guy is from the future. He most likely has a sense of humor that is very different from modern standards & knows about centuries of media and pop culture references that do not exist yet. He’s from the 25th century. That’s four centuries of time for humor, language, and entertainment to evolve.  But do you think Booster Gold would be great or terrible at social media/TikTok with his future sense of humor that’s riddled with slang, pop culture references, and idiots or sayings referencing events that have not happened yet?  Because I think he would make a fuck ton of trends & be very notable online. Mainly because he’d deliberately copy online viral hits that haven't happened yet and essentially is stealing ideas from people in the future. Because he’d absolutely do that to gain notoriety. And people would be fascinated with this weird dude online who simultaneously knows Jack And Shit about literally any modern media but somehow has the most advanced humor online. He’s constantly referring to things that don’t exist and his little robot behind him chirps up that “that film was made in the 23rd century, it hasn’t been made yet.” The younger generation would be fascinated by this superhero. I also bet the fucking merch line he would have would be either the blandest corporate thing ever made by a team he hired or he'd make it a gimmick of slapping a specific logo of his face on everything he owned to the point where it became a meme and people demanded merch of the shitty design. There would also be about a bajillion different plushie versions of Skeets though and I would totally buy all of them if I could.  And here's the thing. Humans Love to see other humans fumble through things that we perceive as common knowledge because it's charming and funny the way they mess up, misunderstand how something works, and are delighted when they finally get the hang of it or find out how it actually works. Sure, it's fun to watch someone who is really good at something. But I also think it's very fun to watch someone who has zero fucking clue what they are doing and are trying their best to find it out as they go.

There would absolutely be a compilation of all the times Booster was super excited after he found out that something very mundane existed: "Guys, I have wonderful news. I just found out that the Cavendish banana isn't extinct yet due to them being genetically selected to grow seedless so much that new plants could not be grown as there are no seeds and the existing plants got slowly being destroyed by a parasite! I forgot that they still were around in the early 21st century! So I'm going to try one for the first time!" Michael Jon Carter, aka Booster Gold, aka @/GoldstarNotBoosterGold then directly proceeded to bring the unpeeled banana up to his mouth and bite directly into it. 

He then proceeded to eat the entire banana in this fashion, his face visibly scrunching in distaste with every bite, very clearly not enjoying this endeavor. When he was done he looked off into the distance for a moment, compiling his next words, "Hm, honestly not bad. Kind of bland but I really wish the skin wasn't so tough. Makes sense that 21st-century fruits would be more of a hassle to eat. But overall, I'd give it a 5/10." Needless to say, the three-minute-long video became viral overnight and he became quickly well known online for saving people and being a hero, making bizarre TikToks with his sense of humor from the future, giving out free merch with a horribly compressed image of his face on it, and for trying out food, activities, media, video games, and etc. from the past and reviewing them.

And here’s the thing. Booster Gold is Not super subtle about wanting to be famous/get popular but like, that makes him actually more liked. At first this causes people to flood his comments and media with negative responses about how he’s “not a real hero” if he doesn’t do it out of the goodness of his heart via comparing him to figures like Superman and how he’s a fraud hero.

His response gets plastered all over every news site imaginable. (oh god now I'm imagining what YouTube apology videos would be like in the 25th century)

He responds very directly that “Yes. I am doing this for the fame and money.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“It seems kind of weird to assume that nobody has an ulterior motive when being a hero. Some heroes help people out of the goodness of their heart but that’s an unrealistic standard to place on heroes. I’m constantly putting myself into danger and could die any mission. Is that not enough to prove that I’m a hero? Why do I also have to have this weird high moral standard that is super unreasonable?”

“Also, people seem to forget, this is my job.”

“I do not have another one. Making online content is how I get my money. I don’t get paid by the government or the Justice League. Just by what I earn from my videos and streams. Plus, everything is so outdated that the effort of adapting to what  a “normal” job in the 21st century is like would take forever. And yall seem to forget this a lot, but having a normal job would mean I would not be able to help anyone between 9-5. I need the flexibility that an online job like this gives me so I can help as many people as possible as I can without having to worry about being fired because I had to fix a time rift and had already used up all my sick days.”

“People criticize me for heavily promoting my merch and gaming the algorithm but people seem to not realize. Heroing is expensive. You think repairing technology from the future is easy with such outdated equipment?”

“Sourcing materials that don’t have synthetic equivalents yet is not cheap.”

“People don’t seem to understand how much money goes into maintaining equipment or the constant medical bills.”

“I have to promote it hard and keep my views up or else I won’t be able to help people anymore. I can’t help people if I can’t pay rent.”

“But hopefully I’ll be able to get enough money to make a company to have other’s take over the job for me so I can retire. That’s just how businesses work. “

“But, I will say that the 21st century has been so cool and it’s been so fun to been to be able to experience things I would have never been able to when I’m from and I wanted to share my experiences with other people even if they don’t really understand where I’m coming from. It’s been very nice to be able to get paid by people who like my videos and are entertained by me fumbling through what it’s like living in the 21st century. “

“But while I like helping people, is it really too much to ask to be paid for my job? This is not the first time I’ve expressed my reason to travel back in time to become a hero was to be able to start his own company and eventually retire. Is it not enough that I’m still a hero? I could just quit that and make making content my full time job? Did you ever think of that? I could just stop being a hero because I now can make rent. But I still put on the suit and help fight bad guys because I want to do good. I also don’t think it’s inhuman for me to want to be acknowledged that I did something good. People are selfish creatures. I deserve to want for people to acknowledge that I looked really cool after defeating a villain! I don’t think that’s too unreasonable.”

“Anyways, make sure to like, subscribe, and ring that bell!”

“My Twitter and Instagram is BoosterGold. Go follow me on Tiktok and Twitch at GoldstarNotBoosterGold. My second channel is BusterGold”

“And make sure to check out the new merch drop on Friday! You guys have been asking for a Skeets plushie and its almost here!”

“Booster Gold, signing off from the future!“

From then on after the video, he just amps it up and is super direct that he’s doing this as his job and for the sole purpose to make money & get more well known.

Like he’ll open up a tiktok or youtube video occasionally with “this is trending and you know me, I’m always ready to cash in on those views” and “I’m not usually a horror guy, but I’ve been seeing a lot of people play this game and you all think its fun to watch me shit my pants. But at least the ad revenue will let me buy a new pair”. 

It actually ends up having people like him more (there are definitely still some critics don’t get me wrong). But people see him as incredibly human. His obnoxious branding becomes a meme and just something to expect of Booster. But despite that, he’s genuinely a good guy and will drop everything if he sees someone in need. 

He’s much more relatable and human than the other god-like beings in the JL. He has videos of him talking about money struggles and rambling about how damn expensive it is to fix equipment that’s four centuries out of date and people relate and laugh at his frustration. 

Other videos about him contain him complaining about his medical bills (in the future the US has a Single-Payer healthcare system and the Medical Insurance industry is abolished. and the history books didn't accurately emphasize how much of a pain in the ass it was) and setting stream goals to pay off bills. He talks about things that people never heard heroes talk about before from their perspective:

- A stream where Booster cleans out the food in the fridge after being off-world for a month and now all his food has gone bad. 

- Booster asking for advice how to grocery shop because nearly all of the brands that make the snacks and foods he wants, haven’t been founded yet. And asking advice on what prices for food is normal because the difference in inflation   

- Booster asking questions about modern etiquette to his followers because those have definitely changed over 4 centuries.

- “Guys how the fuck do you navigate anything online? The layout of all of them is fucking awful! Has that law about standardizing format to cancel subscriptions not been made yet? Because it sure as hell seems like it!”

- A tweet of Booster in the hospital with about a bajillion things attached to him posing with a thumbs up with the caption “I might’ve broken all of my bones but at least they didn’t touch my handsome face”

- The first few times Booster mentions going to physical therapy or doing PT exercises his fanbase goes “Holy shit, I never realized superheroes would have to go to PT after getting injured.” Like, they saw heroes getting injured but it didn’t click in their heads that those injuries would have actual repercussions. To the viewers, it seemed like the heroes always bounced back. And they’re just now realizing that that’s not the case, there’s a lot going on behind the scenes

- “Dealing with Batman is Just as scary as you’d think. The guy gives me the creeps”   (Bruce has 100% worked with booster about spreading rumors about Batman to keep up his reputation so Anything that Michael says about him can only be about confirming rumors that support his reputation or pre-approved stories about Batman being intimidating even outside of fights. Booster does once say that there’s a betting pool in the JL if Bats is a vampire and Bruce was not happy that it wasn’t cleared with him before but it’s been easier to fight goons recently as they’ve been reaching for holy water rather than guns first. Bruce then decides to have Booster keep up these rumors as long as they are actually cleared with him so Bruce can have a firm control over the Batman vampire mythos.)

- “Does Batman go to PT? Pfft, I’ve seen the guy bounce back from every injury he’s ever had with inhuman speed. I swear, it’s like he gets a bullet wound or stabbed and is completely fine the next day!” 

- “Oh yeah, Superman is just as nice as everyone says he is! He overheard me talking to Flash once about how I couldn’t find a soldering iron fine enough to fix some of my more intricate gear and he said I can ask anytime if I needed him to use his laser vision to fix my stuff! He’s great.”

- Booster talking about fighting time monsters and being kinda sad that no one can actually see the amount of effort it takes to deal with those issues because if he’s done everything right, there should be no trace anything happened at all. 

But his streams can also reveal some of the more… undesirable parts of becoming a hero, namely the gruesome injures, trauma, and seeing friends get brutally injured:

And people realize this through Booster accidentally trauma dumping to his audience and them going “oh shit, I knew doing hero work isn’t easy but this guy needs a fucking therapist”: 

-  Briefly mentions how weird it was to hold in his guts in after getting injured really badly during a fight. 

- (warning there’s a description of a burnt corpse so skip this if you don’t like that): “The dishes have been piling up lately guys. I keep meaning to get to it but it’s just - you remember those burning apartments I had to sort though last week? The, uh, slightly grainy and squishy texture of the food under my fingers keeps reminding me of sorting through those houses and I just haven’t been able to get to it.” 

“ I was sorting through the debris, looking for potential causes of the fire. One of the walls was gone and you could see the metal pipes melted into a weird shape, it was kinda cool.”

“But uh, I went to shift what I thought was a burnt piece of furniture out of the way. And when I grabbed it, it like, gave away? sort of? I thought it was going to be burnt wood but the first few layers of the outside crumbled under my touch and flaked away, the non-burnt part way on the inside was still kinda squishy.”

“It, uh- it, turned out to be someone’s arm.”

“The firemen said the person must’ve been crushed under the falling wall and didn’t escape in time. And they just lied there, charred nearly to the bone.”

“The texture just reminds me of that happening and I haven’t been able to do dishes or eat anything with my hands in a while.”

“But anyways guys! I think I’m going to get Beetle to do them when he comes over tomorrow!” (The sudden whiplash of tone definitely gets viewers very concerned because that Cannot be healthy)

——

I also enjoy the concept that people mercilessly bully him online (but with no real ill intent, think Jerma’s fanbase type of bullying and memeing the shit out of the man)  

Ted Kord is absolutely a fan favorite. At first he was often visibly in the backgrounds of Michael’s videos all suited up. Then he was the supervisor and behind-the-camera context giver to Booster for the more stupid stunts he did for internet attention and answered questions Booster had about media he reacted to by filling in the meaning of what he was being shown. 

People Loved their dynamic and sure enough Booster capitalized the shit out of it by pulling Ted into his videos and having Blue Beetle be the voice of reason & the comedic contrast of “guy who knows how to do things” vs “guy who has no fucking clue what he’s doing. Their “High INT, High STR, Low WIS, Low CHA ” & “High CHA (with permanent disadvantage), High STR, Low WIS, & Low INT” relationship is much loved online. 

—

But at the same time, he could also accidentally be the cause of many technological breakthroughs in the 21st century because common knowledge to him would be so absolutely foreign to us as that’s centuries of advancement in the fields of technology, science, engineering, and math between current day and the 25th century. I’d like to imagine he corrects a physics equation with one made in the 23th century that was common knowledge for him, but not so much for the modern century physicist. And now he’s in the media focus for being a superhero influencer online who somehow caused a breakthrough in physics. With the intent of becoming a superhero with the sole purpose of gaining fame & money to eventually form a corporation based around himself to make a comfortable living.

[ragingbookdragon]

He Said, "Times Like These I Don't Want To Be A Superstar"

Booster Gold x Batbro One-Shot

Word Count: 1.3K Warnings: Slight Angst

Author's Note: BOOSTER GOLD. BOOSTER GOLD. BOOSTER GOLD IS A HERO AND YOU WILL RESPECT HIM, EVEN IF HE'S A MORON. -Thorne

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

He’d noticed that the eldest Wayne son liked to watch the people he was around—much like his father did—listening, learning, piecing together what made people tick, what made them do the things they did. Booster was sure the man could pull a Sherlock and tell someone every piece of their life history just by a single glance. They’d gone on two dates—if you could count one Justice League mission where they worked together and then a training session afterwards, dates. And yet, he’d still not asked Booster about his past. He had no doubt that Batman had given his son free reign of the Batcomputer files; he’d read up on Booster…why hadn’t he asked?

***

They slid into the diner booth, both rather beat after the long training session. Booster was beginning to feel pain in places he wasn’t sure he was supposed to, but (Y/N)’d assured him it was all normal during the process of learning Muay Thai. Booster had watched Batman and (Y/N) go out it for about ten minutes with the martial arts form, and even Clark was wincing with each kick, knee, and elbow the two exchanged. And then (Y/N) got Booster in the ring and started training him; he was grateful—his hand-to-hand was basic at best.

Still though, he wasn’t sure how to act around (Y/N). He’d heard stories of the black op squad leaders exploits, the great SPECTRES running around the world, saving it and the places where the Justice League overlooked; Batman wasn’t too fond of the killing, but he beamed with pride when he talked about (Y/N)’s squad taking down terrorist groups and human trafficking rings. Booster wasn’t jealous, but he wanted to learn from the man. Wanted to know how he was so well liked within the superhero community, and just by normal people.

“You’re doing it again,” (Y/N) suddenly said and Booster shook himself out of his stupor, blinking as he gazed at the man, watching as he merely took a glance around the room.

“Doing what?” Booster asked.

He chuckled. “That thing where you think so hard everyone can smell the smoke billowing out of your ears.”

Booster flushed. “Sorry. Just thinking…about stuff.”

(Y/N) met his eyes. “Anything you feel like sharing with the class?”

Booster grinned, though the smile dropped into a frown as he took a moment to find the correct way to communicate his worries. “How much do you know…about me? Like really know about me?”

“How much do you want me to tell you I really know?” he retorted with a sly smile, eyes twinkling with mirth and something deeper—intrigue, or maybe it was expectation.

“Have you read my file?”

“What makes you think you have a file to read up on?”

Booster shot (Y/N) a rather unimpressed look as he deadpanned, “Your dad is Ba—ruce Wayne,” he corrected with a cough. “There’s a file on everyone.”

“Fair,” he agreed, opening up the menu; (Y/N) scanned it, refusing to look at Booster, which only made the man shift nervously in his seat. “Got curious when you entered the scene. Asked dad to send me the file on you. Skimmed it, put it back, let it be your business.” He gazed at Booster. “Why?”

“I’m…not a good man to be around, (Y/N). I—”

“Because of the gambling in college? Or the stealing?”

“…Both…” he murmured, looking at his hands, then a self-loathing smile came over his lips. “What’d your dad’s file say? That I’m an ego-maniac who puts on airs because he’s a second-rate hero that’ll never amount to anything?” (Y/N) merely gazed at him, watching, waiting. “I wanted fame, (Y/N). Glory. That’s why I came back here. It’s why I do what I do.”

Booster looked at him. “The only people who ever want to be around me are Ted and Skeets. Why do you hang around?” he shrugged. “Why do like me?”

(Y/N) thanked the waitress for handing them their drinks and set his cup to the side. “You bet on your games to save your mom’s life. Without the money, she wouldn’t’ve gotten the treatments and most likely would’ve died. If she hadn’t, your family would’ve drowned in medical debt.”

He tore the paper to his straw. “Your theft was a problem, but you recognized the error of your ways and made up for it with the jail time.” Slowly, he pulled the plastic tube out of the white paper. “Your ego is as big as your head, but when proven wrong, you admit it, sulkily, but you do.” (Y/N) crumpled the wrapper. “You have no skill other than the technological advances of your suit and Skeets’ help.”

Placing the straw in his drink, he added, “You suck at hand-to-hand combat, but you learn quickly when there’s a threat to your pretty face, so that’s a plus. You’re loud and obnoxious, but you’re clever enough to keep low so that you don’t alter the future by being a globally renowned hero.”

(Y/N) met his eyes. “Ted’s your best friend and Skeets is stuck with you. I’m here because I see what’s underneath.” He searched Booster’s gaze. “You’re a good man, Michael. Can you be an idiot? Absolutely. Can you be annoying as hell? Yeah. Can you leap without looking where you’re going? All the time. But at the end of the day, your friends know that if they needed help, they could count on you to back them up, even if you knew you might not know what you were doing.”

He pointed at Booster. “And that’s what makes you a hero.” (Y/N) smiled, gesturing to himself. “Michael, I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of. Been a lot of things I’m not proud of. But the difference between being a hero and parading as one, is what you do when you keep getting knocked down. Real heroes get back up. Frauds cower and hide.”

Tipping his head to the side, he offered Booster a look of chance. “So? Are you the hero? Or the fraud? All evidence points to the former.”

Booster was stunned silent. He had no words, no clever quips, no heart-throbbing lines to throw back. He was completely speechless. His mouth was moving, forming words his vocal cords wouldn’t produce as wet warmth flooded his bright blue eyes, and all he could do was lower his head, putting his hands over his face to hide the tears.

(Y/N) knocked his foot against Booster’s calf. “I’m gonna tell Ted I made you cry on our third date.”

A laugh bubbled from Booster’s chest as he quickly wiped his eyes, chuckles escaping his lips every couple seconds; he looked at him, murmuring, “Thanks (Y/N).”

He shrugged. “I’m just telling you the truth, Michael.”

“Yeah…but it means a lot to me.”

(Y/N) set his hand on Booster’s, the man turned his hand palm up in response, thumb running over the smooth skin of his palm as he replied, “You mean a lot to me.”

“I do?” he questioned in disbelief. “Really? You like me?”

“I only taught you how to break someone’s skin open with your elbow and how to break ribs and legs with a solid kick,” (Y/N) snorted. “So, yeah, I like you.”

“You’ve got an awfully weird way of showing you’ve got the hots for me,” Booster grinned, and he rolled his eyes.

“Better than your lame pickup lines and offers to go out on missions with you.”

“Hey! You agreed!”

“Because it was pitiful how love-struck you were with me.”

“I am not love-struck!”

“Really? ‘Cause a little gold robot told me you’ve been recording dirty diary entries about me.”

“What?! Skeets told you!”

“Well, he didn’t, but you just confirmed the suspicion. Nice going, Sherlock.”

“OH MY GOD!”

[flashflashhundredyarddash]

Shove You Out the Door

Jaime regretted not letting the Reach invasion happen.

The day started out fine. He spent two hours stressing over what to wear to the movies before he covered up his shirt with the same blue hoodie that he wore all the time anyways. When he showed up 20 minutes early for their noon showing Bart was already there, wearing shorts in deference to the early summer Texas heat, and Jaime had the very unchill thought of legs sjdjfnee and Khaji Da offered to eliminate The Impulse, even though Bart had been Kid Flash for two years already. Bart spotted him and quickly latched onto Jaime's arm, pulling him into the theater and chattering away about whatever sci-fi movie Bart had picked out.

They went to a diner afterwards, and when Jaime blew his straw wrapper at Bart he laughed in delight. When Bart got up to go collect 50 more straws and sat back down he slid into the booth next to Jaime, and Jaime panicked because oh god, are they on a date? Jaime meant for it to be a date and then had freaked and not actually said anything to confirm it was a date so technically they were just hanging out and Bart was fiddling with the woven bracelet that Milagro had made for him that he wore everywhere because actually Milagro was his best friend now, sorry Jaime-

Then Booster Gold sat in the booth across from them.

Jaime didn’t realize it was Booster Gold at first, so he cleared his throat and said, “This table is a little occupied,” and Bart blew a straw wrapper into the side of his face.

The man who had so rudely sat at their table and interrupted their maybe-date opened his mouth before Bart interrupted him. “Hi Booster Gold,” Bart said.

Booster Gold closed his mouth. “It’s just Michael right now, actually,” he said. His blond curly hair was dark at the roots and when he smiled Jaime felt awe at how white his teeth were.

“Can we… help you?” Jaime asked, because he wasn’t sure why a random member of the Justice League decided to look for one or both of them. He had the thought that maybe he was actually an alien or shape-shifter and was coming to kidnap them or kill them or something, but then dismissed that thought because that was stupid, and also why would an alien disguise itself as Booster Gold to come kill them?

“Actually, I was hoping I could help you,” Michael said with his perfect, shiny teeth. He spread his hands out and magnanimously stated, “I have decided to offer my esteemed superheroing services and mentor the new Blue Beetle.”

He glanced back and forth between Bart and Jaime.

“Which one of you is Blue Beetle?” he asked.

Jaime choked on his drink.

“Me,” Bart said, immediately, “I’m Blue Beetle and I definitely need your superheroing services.”

Jaime put his hand over Bart’s mouth and very pointedly did not react when Bart licked his palm. Bart could never understand the pains of being an older brother.

“I’m Blue Beetle,” Jaime said.

“You’re both Blue Beetle?” Michael asked.

“Yes!” Bart shrieked.

“No!” Jaime said.

“This mentoring thing is already so complicated,” Michael sighed.

“Look,” Jaime said, wiping his hand off on Bart’s shirt, “it’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but I’m a little confused. I don’t think our skill sets are really… compatible.”

“I get it,” Michael said. “You’re the Blue Beetle and I’m a time traveler from the future. On the surface we have nothing in common.”

“Wow,” Bart said, “You’re from the future? What’s that like? Has the world been invaded by crazy bug aliens?”

“What?”

“Ignore him. Like I said, I appreciate the offer, but I feel like I’ve got this handled. Besides…” Jaime couldn’t help the bit of hurt that bled into his voice, “why didn’t you ever show up when I first got the scarab? I could have used a mentor back then.”

Michael sighed again and rested his face on his hand. “I don’t know. When Ted died, I just… I just didn’t cope well, I guess. He’d been my best friend for so long and… yeah, you didn’t deserve to have to deal with that, kid.”

“Wait, you actually knew Ted Kord?” Jaime said, leaning forward.

“Yes?” Michael said. He reached for a chain around his neck and pulled at it to reveal the ring that had been tucked into his shirt.

“Oh shit,” Jaime said. “I’m sorry, man.”

Michael waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, grieving widow. But anyways, I’m cool now, I did the whole therapy thing, and since I was married to the last Blue Beetle, I figure that makes you my, like, step-protege or something.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Jaime said.

“Oh man, if you had showed up last week we would’ve gotten you something for Father’s Day,” Bart said, “Like a custom shirt that says world’s #1 guy who was married to the guy who was actually supposed to be my boyfriend’s mentor. World’s #1 replacement mentor.”

Jaime abruptly turned to look at Bart. “Boyfriend?” Jaime squeaked.

Bart squinted his eyes at him. “Have we not been dating for two months?”

“Should I go?” Michael asked.

“I thought maybe we were dating but I wasn’t sure? I do want to date you but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to date me.”

Bart huffed out a laugh. “You are so dumb. I don’t share food with just anyone. Also I already have my prom dress picked out so you just need to get a red tie.”

“I have a red tie!” Michael shouted, making them both jump. “I have like five hundred ties. Boom! You’ve just been mentored.” He pointed at the basket of fries in front of Jaime. “Are you going to eat those?”

Jaime slid the fries over to Bart.

“Oh my god,” Bart said, sounding a little choked up, “I love you so much. I will even let you eat some of these.”

“Am I nailing this boyfriend thing so far?” Jaime asked.

“Oh, totally, babe.”

Jaime nodded to himself. He was totally nailing this boyfriend thing.

“Ah, young love,” Michael said, getting up. He patted his pockets for a minute and then stopped. “I was going to pay, because I’m a mentor now, but I don’t know where my wallet is.”

“Don’t you own a quarter of Kord Industries or something?” Bart said.

“So! I’ll see you around, Blue, Blue’s boyfriend. Maybe you could help me out on a patrol or something. That’s what Green Arrow does with his kids, I think.”

“Sure, man,” Jaime said, deciding to throw him a bone. “See you around.”

Michael smiled brightly and then scribbled his number onto a napkin before leaving the diner, the bell tinkling behind him.

“Oh my gosh, did you see-” Bart started.

“His teeth!” Jaime finished.

Bart nodded aggressively, his auburn hair flopping. “I have never seen a man with more beautiful teeth. Well, except maybe yours.”

“You’ve got a pretty nice smile, too.” Jaime said, and reminded himself Bart couldn’t hear the way his heart fell out of its rhythm for a second.

“Yeah,” Bart said, leaning in, “Maybe we should compare notes.”

[shorkbrian]

Okay lol This idea just popped into my head and I’m asjdhkggshfg (it’s a stupid idea but I’m thirsty okay)

(warnings - dubcon, sex toys)

Cause like the Miya twins are the type to have a private “business”

Atsumu started this “business” as a way to hook up with hot chicks, plus earn a little cash on the side, and eventually dragged his smarty-pants brother Osamu into it to help him manage finances.

They sell sex toys.

Atsumu started with selling silicone dick casts, flirting with the girls who bought them off of someplace like Etsy (kshdgkjsgks He WOULD use Etsy he’s so dumb I love him). He’d tease that the actual dick is so much better than the casts, simply because he’s attached to it, and he knows how to use it. The majority of the time, the girls are half way across the country, not interested, or actually guys (Which Atsumu honestly doesn’t mind), and no one takes him up on his offer.

Occasionally, he strikes gold and finds someone close, and dtf. And then he abandons Osamu for a weekend to go plow someone’s daughter.

Osamu just likes the fact that he gets to make bank without doing hardly anything. This bish probably has a business degree, encourages Atsumu to start selling male masturbators (sleeves, flashlights, yada yada) to increase profits. Atsumu agrees.

Osamu suggests selling vibrators and branching out in the selection of toys they offer.

Atsumu agrees.

The faux-blond has no qualms about modeling the toys, the cock rings, the prostrate massagers, the anal beads, the tip teasers, the penis plugs.

He gets an idea about the female toys.

You’re a cute little classmate from college, laidback, up for anything. Not very opinionated, the type of person to “go with the flow”.

Atsumu kind of remembers that, from the various classes he shared with you, the few parties he remembers you briefly appearing at. But mainly? He remembered how easy you backed down when challenged in class, how you immediately conceded to another classmate even though you were right.

Well, he remembers that, and your plump ass.

He pitches the idea to Osamu, who’s hesitant, but Atsumu’s insistent, and selfish.

So you end up in their apartment, in their “studio” room, where they do product shoots.

You don’t know exactly what you’re doing here, Atsumu had just texted you about needing a model, and how you were the perfect height.

It’s not like you were doing anything else, and plus, having someone as popular and hot as Atsumu pick you for some modeling project? Was kind of an ego-booster.

Next thing you know, Atsumu’s helping you undress, handing you a fluffy, too-large robe (”it’s mine, I’m usually the one modeling.”). Osamu’s setting up the camera, the lighting, sneaking glances at you as Atsumu starts bringing out the various products.

It’s intimidating.

Plugs, vibrators, nipple clamps, some sort of Sybian-like bump, clit pinchers, chains and dildos and things you didn’t even know the names of, didn’t even know where they were supposed to go.

It was too late to say no, apparently.

You were being ushered onto the bed, Atsumu quickly tugging off your robe, already lubing up a toy - an external rabbit vibe.

He made you hold it up against your cunt as he stepped back, out of the shot.

Osamu and him made various comments as they took pictures, adjusting the lighting, instructing you to move into different poses, getting close with the camera to get “different angles”.

Luckily, none of the shots showed your face, the complete discomfort.

It got to the point that Atsumu was spreading your legs, fingering you open, shoving a toy up your pussy, his fingers still stuffed inside.

“Osamu, it looks real hot like this, dont’cha think? Let’s get a few with my fingers still inside her, it’ll make it look organic.”

Osamu nodded, face ever-so-slightly flushed.

Atsumu kept moving his fingers around inside of you, wiggling the toy (A G-spot stimulator) and making little gasps and shuddered whimpers fall out of your mouth. You were squeezing your eyes shut, biting your lips, shoulders up and drawn close to your ears as you tried to resist bucking your hips. 

This was weird, and awkward, and it didn’t feel right being handled like this by the two brothers - but you had been teased for the better part of two hours by a plethora of toys, forced to the edge, immediately pulled back when Osamu quietly muttered that Atsumu could grab the next item.

So sue you for being a bit keyed up.

You almost cried when Atsumu pulled the toy out, along with his fingers, stopping to give your clit a little rub on his way out. 

“Oh shit, don’t cry-” Atsumu noticed your teary face, the way your hole clenched around nothing, how your hips twitched downwards, desperate for stimulation. “-I’ll fill you up real good in a bit, how ‘bout that? Just a few more product shots. I think you’ll like this next one.”

And on it went.

Atsumu and Osamu would be having the time of their lives, the blond brother getting to touch and finger and tease you, make you desperate for a real cock. Deny you your release countless times, until you were crying and begging. 

Osamu is fine with documenting, at least for now. Maybe in a bit, after Atsumu fucks you stupid, Osamu will have his turn keying you up with the toys. Then he could fuck your mouth, or maybe your ass (it had been stretched by a toy or two already). 

And you’re too stupid, too trusting and too non-confrontational to stand up for self, to express your discomfort or worries. Atsumu had overwhelmed you from the moment you had stepped in their apartment, hurrying you along until he could get you skewered on his cock.

Maybe, if they can convince you to do this again, the brothers would share you.

If they get their way, it’ll be a regular weekly occurrence.

[queenretcon]

the way the story ends

i dont usually post fic, but I finished this scene from that one jli story that’s always rattling around in my head

characters: ted kord, beatriz da costa, mentions of the JLI esp max

summary: Ted and Bea have an overdue talk.

words: 2k

It starts on the back steps of Ted’s El Paso home.

Maybe more accurately, it starts when Blue & Gold show up at Fire & Ice’s Malibu apartment, holding take out and talking about a new Justice League International. It’s a long string of events, of saying yes, that lead to everything led to.

But really, it starts on those brick steps, Bea nursing a blue cocktail Booster made and leaning one elbow haphazardly on Ted’s knee. Most of Ted’s worst ideas have come from a drunken Beatriz Bonilla Da Costa, but he’s never been one for good decisions.

The problem is that he’s still figuring out how to talk about it.

The dying, that is.

The being murdered. The vague memories of crawling from the dirt, brainfucked by a Black Lantern ring, reaching for his best friend’s throat. The coming back too late, after everyone had moved on into whoever they were without Ted dragging them back down.

Booster pays a very nice woman named Courtney a lot of Ted’s money every month so that he can sit on her comfy couch and dissect the whole lot of it.

But Ted’s never been good at therapy. He tried it, after his mom died, but he can’t make himself do it right. He cracks jokes at all the right moments—where he should be laying out all his easily exploitable vulnerabilities—and, well, therapists can’t work with the whole lot of nothing he gives them.

And he’s always been even worse at the heart-on-your-sleeve late night talks with Booster.

It’s easier with Bea though. He’s not sure why. Maybe it’s the older sister energy—he’d always wanted one as a kid—or maybe it’s that Bea’s like him. She knows the right moment to make a joke or play the right part, to leave Ted’s last guarded wall standing.

“It sucked,” she says, swirling around the drink in her hands. “Obviously.”

“Is it weird that hearing that makes part of me, y’know, horribly guilty and part of me, uh,” he pauses, staring out into sparse greenery of his yard, “flattered?”

Bea cackles, throwing her head back. Ted snickers under his breath as she almost empties her drink on her lap. “God! I’d feel the same way.”

“You’re invulnerable, I’m pretty sure,” he says. “So I’ll have to take your word for it.”

He watches the humor drain from her face.

“Me, Booster, and Guy. The leftovers.”

Ted reaches behind him for his drink, like more liquor will have magically appeared since he drained it. “Irony is you guys would have enjoyed seeing people miss you the most.”

That brings back the grin to her face. He wonders how many people have seen her like this: hair messy, lipstick smeared, thousand-watt smile coming out at the idea of being mourned. How many people know the brilliant, morbid survivor buried behind false bravado and push-up bras.

“What’s it like?” she asks, locking onto him with eyes too wide. “Being adored?”

Ted huffs under his breath.

Lonely.

“I don’t know how many people are actually mourning me, y’know?” he asks, like she could possibly know what it’s like to hold the completed biography of your life in your hands. Like she could know what it’s like to be the unwanted sequel to a damn good movie. “I don’t think the, like, uh.”

He pauses, and she sits patiently.

Bea used to be an interrogator. Is she using any of those hard-won skills without him knowing? Why can she pull things out of him even his best friend, soulmate, other half never could?

“Their perfect angel genius martyr,” he says, eyes fixed away from her. “I don’t think I’m him.”

“Of course not,” she says quietly. “Tora wasn’t either. There’s no room for nuance with the dead.”

He hadn’t thought about that.

“Huh.”

“It was weird, listening to people talk about her after,” Bea says, absently tilting her glass back and forth to watch the liquid drain this way and that. “All these people who’d never had a conversation with her, suddenly talking at me about my girl. Like they needed to mythologize her to mourn her or something. She couldn’t just be somebody who died young in a shitty way; she had to be this perfect, infallible angel ripped from us too soon.” She taps her purple nails against the glass, a staccato beat. “It felt like they were taking her away from me, a little bit, turning her into somebody else. Somebody easier for them to cry about.”

Does Booster feel this way? Ted doesn’t know. He knows he broke Booster a little bit, that the person Ted left in that hospital bed was different from the person who showed up all those months ago at Ted’s door, eyes red, heart clutched in his hands. But the specifics of it has been a burden too big to bear. He owes Booster to carry it, but he’s been writing Booster checks he can’t cash for a long time now.

“I wasn’t there for you,” Ted says, “when she died.”

“I know,” Bea says, mildly, like he’s reminding her of something previously discussed.

A long pause stretches taut between them. Ted tries to find the words, for a proper apology, for the way to fix the relationships he’s always kicking down.

“I forgave your corpse,” she says. “For a lot of things.” There’s another pause, then: “Dickbag.”

Ted snorts, then before he can consider if this is the time, he’s cackling, head thrown back, bwa-ha-ha, and Bea’s laughing, too, digging her nails into his knee, choking out, “Stop, shut up, I hate you, that wasn’t even funny, you are a dickbag.”

When their drunken giggle-fit subsides, her head is on his knee, “You can’t die again. It’s not allowed. I have like three friends.”

“Aw, you’ve got like five,” he assures her, patting her curls haphazardly.

“Barely,” she sighs, “and they keep turning into weird homoerotic will-they-wont-theys, like I need one person who’s always going to have ken doll anatomy in my head.”

“That’s a horrifying way to phrase that,” he informs her. She makes an attempt to reach back and pat his face. It’s not a very good attempt.

She’s always been easier to him than other people. Maybe it’s the shared, terrible sense of humor, or the fact she’s never going to be fake-nice to him, is always going to let him know when he’s getting on her nerves.

It occurs to him he could tell her. She wants to know, right? Everyone does, the nitty-gritty of his untimely murder. Alcohol buzzing in his head, the warm weight of her against his knee, he feels some key unlock in the vault of Ted’s Repressed Bullshit™.

“I’ve never, uh,” Ted pauses, trying to find the words. He’s been pulling absently on his hands without realizing. “I’ve never told anybody about this, but, uh, Max told me some stuff. Before, uh.”

Bea sits up, eyes wide for a quick flash, before they narrow darkly. “Like what?”

Booster doesn’t want to talk about Max, can’t handle hearing his name. Ted’s struggled with it, a little. There was this person—who Ted trusted, who Ted cared about, who Ted has gone to a million times when he needed help or advice or anything really—and then it was that person who fucked everything up forever. Who took everything from Ted.

And he still hasn’t processed it; not really.

But Bea’s different. Max and her—they’d been close. He was the only one she let still call her B.B.. On slow days, sometimes Ted would walk past Max’s office and find Bea with her feet propped up on Max’s antique wooden desk, looking smug while Max laughed over whatever witty thing she’d said this time.

Maybe she’s been waiting, just like Ted, for someone to say his name again the way they used to. Without the hard edge. Without the barely restrained fury. Like Max was the guy who gave them their big break and not just another in a long line of cardboard cut-out supervillains.

“About, uh,” he almost stutters out, still avoiding Bea’s gaze when he speaks, “us, I guess. I mean, the JLI. Like he talked about, y’know, he was the reason we kind of, uh, sucked I guess? Why we weren’t ever, y’know, great the way a Justice League was supposed to be. That it was him, fucking us over. Holding us back.”

When he turns to see her face, she looks—

Mad.

“And you believed that?” she asks. There’s a little bit of a bite to it, but it’s not the hot rage she aims at Guy. Ted feels suddenly that how he answers this question is very important.

“I guess. Yeah.”

Bea takes a long, long drink of her cocktail, draining the last of the blue out of her glass.

“We fought Despero. Twice. Survived the Joker. Protected this stupid fucking unappreciative world from Manga Khan and that Nebula bitch. Vampires. Manhunters. Lobo. More alien invasions. Killg%re.” Bea turns, green curls falling into her face, eyes hard. “Need me to keep fucking going?”

“I was there,” Ted says.

She sits up, throwing out her arms. “Then why are you talking about it like one of them?! We were great, Ted! We protected people! We saved the day! We just, just—

“We just didn’t do it the way they did,” she spits out, lips pulled back to show her canines as she does. He feels oddly detached, listening to her. She’s thought this before; she’s lined her mental ducks in a row; she’s—

Taken the brunt of it, hasn’t she?

The longest serving member of the JLI, as she reminds them often. The one who went down with the ship. The one who’s never had a statue in her honor or the invite to a more respectable team. Who was a decorated agent and Global Guardian before them and was the punchline to a joke about slutty Latinas after them.

After all of it, still loyal to the end.

He feels abashed, just a little.

“So what?” Ted asks. “You’re saying Max lied?”

“What I’m saying,” she says, like she’s been saying anything and not just unleashing years of pent-up aggressions, “is that J’onn spent literal years buddied up with Max. They were like, actual friends. They talked about J’onn’s family. Do you know anything about J’onn’s family?”

“No,” Ted admits. J’onn has a family?

“Right!” Bea says, gesturing excitedly at him. “He doesn’t talk about them! But he talked about them to Max. And like, look, we all knew Max was sketchy, right? Not a surprise. Fuck, we all thought he was a supervillain from the jump, but he wasn’t back then. I’d swear my fucking life, no, no,” she pauses, waving her hands and then pointing aggressively at Ted, “Kord, I’d swear all of our fucking lives he wasn’t back then. Because J’onn checked. He put aside all those sexy Martian morals—” God, she is drunk. “—to read Max’s mind.”

That’s compelling, actually.

But it also means he spent what he thought were his last moments letting some asshole lie to him and he bought it—even after spending months refusing to buy the lies he was getting from everyone else. So he puts up a token defense. “He could’ve been wrong, Bea. He’s only hu—uh, only Martian.”

Bea locks eyes with him, face suddenly serious where it was practically manic moments before. “I believe in J’onn J’onnz.”

And, y’know, yeah. So does Ted. He always has. Always will.

“So what’s more likely, Beetle? That J’onn failed to protect to us when he could have, or that Max Lord lied?”

When she says it like that, it’s so easy. The obvious truth.

But what it actually does is making everything wildly, wildly complicated. Despite the hot mess of pain it made his personal life, the event of his death was a straightforward sequence, a puzzle already done. Ted was killed by a threat always at his neck. Ted was killed because he was too stupid to understand that he’d let the devil into his living room. That was the final irony of his life: Ted Kord—the wunderkind, the child prodigy, the next great mind—died because there was someone smarter.

Ted Kord has held the biography of his life in his hands. Booster’s copy, with the little 50% off sticker hurriedly scratched off, sticky residue remaining, before it was pushed into Ted’s grasp. He’s seen the totality of his time on Earth wrapped up in 263 measly pages.

But it was time to rewrite the ending.

“Hey, Bea,” he says, suddenly grinning even when he knows he shouldn’t. “Do you want to help me solve my murder?”

[forestlingincorporated]

Bernard Dowd

DC made me do it. Fandom made me do it. So here it is, the character retrospective I never thought I’d ever write. 

Bernard Dowd was introduced on December 17th, 2003, in Robin #121. Tim has recently transferred to Louis E. Grieve Memorial High School, his fourth school since his introduction when he was 13; Tim is 16 now, and was recently forced to drop out of Brentwood due to his father’s bad investments loosing them their upper class status. Jack and Dana Drake are still alive. 

Bernard Dowd is the first person Tim meets when transferring to this new school. Bernard picks him out of the crowd as new, and immediate tries to determine what Tim’s clique is, only to determine, as we all know, Tim is pretty much impossible to cleanly box. 

Bernard thinks very highly of himself. He views himself as also being above cliques, and wants to give Tim the impression that he’s “runs the school.” He thinks of himself as a cool guy, and he doesn’t like to be called “Bernie.” 

His attempts to befriend Tim are rather presumptive in a way that comes off as rude. He treats Tim like a lost little lamb in need of guidance. 

So, Tim ends up casual friends with Bernard. In fact, at this point in time, Tim says he’s his only friend at school. 

Bernard has a crush on fellow classmate and lowkey daughter of a crime boss, Darla Aquista. (Yes, that Darla Aquista, of TimSteph relationship drama fame.) He is the one to introduce Tim to Darla, and Tim embarrasses him by calling his bluff over whether or not he’d actually ask her out if her jock friends were removed from the picture. This is when you start to get the feeling Bernard might be all talk and bravado. He’s not the cool, confident, popular guy he makes himself out to be. 

After Tim looses Robin, he invites Bernard over for dinner with his family. His and Tim’s relationship seems... complicated. On the one hand, Tim likes him enough to invite him over to his house, and he’s probably Tim’s closest friend during a period of time when his other relationships are distant (friends at other schools) or cut entirely (the hero community). That said, Bernard is CLEARLY depicted as... skeezy, and skeezy about people in Tim’s life, in a way Tim doesn’t appreciate. 

Months later, if the passing of seasons is to be believed, Bernard is the person to inform Tim that there’s a new Robin. Tim seems to have a larger friend group at Louis E. Grieve, he’s worked out a friendship with Darla even though she still seems to have a slight crush on him, and seems to be friends with several of the footballers, but he still has time for Bernard. 

Bernard believes wild conspiracies that Batman works for a shadow government and owns secret orphanages full of Robins that only last for about three days before they die and get buried in secret government graveyards. 

We don’t see Bernard for a while after this. Darla Aquista is shot at school, dying in Tim’s arms. Stephanie Brown’s death is faked. Tim’s father dies, and his stepmother is in such mentally bad shape she has to be checked into a special clinic in Bludhaven, so Tim transfers to John Wayne High School, his fifth school since he was 13. 

A lot of shit goes down between the school shooting and the next (and last) time we see Bernard in Robin #140. He’s meeting up with a girl named Linda, when his vehicle is destroyed by none other than Darla Aquista, back from the dead as Warlock’s Daughter, who is looking for Tim. 

After she scares the shit out of him, they go to Gotham Grille for age-appropriate drinks, and Bernard tells her that the high school closed down after the shooting and all the students’ families received settlement money. With that money, Bernard attended an unnamed private school. 

He offers to help her become a superhero, which she turns down. While he’s pretty rude to Linda over the phone, he’s depicted softer here, He seems earnest in his desire to help Darla, even if he still has an underlying bit a selfishness. I personally feel like he comes off a little less like the Annoying Try Hard he started out as, and has a bit more Booster Gold-esque charm to him. 

But, we never see him again, after he helps her track down Tim’s new address with his Fake Uncle, so he was lost to the pile of Tim’s former normal boy friends to be forgotten. 

UNTIL BATMAN: URBAN LEGENDS! 

Right now, everyone is excited because Batman: Urban Legends #4′s been released and Tim Drake has some strong Might End Up Coming Out As MLM Soon? vibes. He’s got this Discovering New Things About Himself arc in this comic that’s framed in a very Gay Coded way. Focusing on a gay male couple with the dialog box “like me” over it, Barbara talking about how he’s afraid looking too deeply at himself might “change” him, stuttering over how his old friend “looks,” and of course this pseudo date he’s goes on with Bernard. 

I cannot actually analyze the whole comic in depth, because I don’t own it; I ordered the trade, so I won’t be receiving it until December. This is what I’ve gathered from screen shots of this comic alone. I don’t think Urban Legends is technically in the main canon, but I would not be surprised if this was a test to see how audiences respond - like Joker shooting Barbara Gordon in The Killing Joke (which isn’t canon) resulting in Barbara Gordon’s very canon paralysis. 

There’s some speculation at the moment that Bernard himself might actually be evil, or working for the bad guys. I think it’s equally possible he might be targeted by the bad guys, and not necessarily evil himself. But neither scenario would particularly surprise me, it seems unlikely he would be reintroduced as solely a potential love interest for Tim, if that is indeed the route they’re going down. Consider old flames of Bruce’s that get reintroduced, they’re often connected to the plot in some way. 

I... have not exactly sugar coated that I don’t like Bernard. Honestly, I AM trying to be fair. THIS Bernard seems lovely, from the screen caps, but my most recent experience with Bernard was a recent reread of the Robin series, and I just don’t find him historically likable. Some people may disagree, but I personally think some of those some people are maybe going back after reading THIS comic and rereading him with rose-tinted glasses he hasn’t quite earned. 

So, I personally am not going to start shipping this, at least not right now, though I am putting on my clown make up getting my hopes up that Tim might come out as gay or bi. I’m personally hoping he’s gay, but that’s just me seeing a lot of myself in Tim, and projecting my own experience with compulsory heterosexuality onto him, and I think it would be interesting to explore that with an established character. I would still be happy with bi/pan Tim Drake, and I think that would probably make the most people happy - fans of Tim’s opposite-sex ships get to win, and fans of Tim’s queer ships get to win, and bi/pan people would get a big name character as representation. What would make the most people angry, is if this ends up as a queerbait during Pride Month of all things. 

I... have no hope they might make him demisexual, I don’t know if DC even knows what that word means. 

[for-the-ninth]

@roguelioness, @a11sha11fade, @emerald-amidst-gold all tagged me in Six Sentence Sunday but that booster shot had me out of commission, so I'm here today with a WIP Whenever (because it's too long to even remotely qualify as Last Line Monday lmao) from the 12th chapter of The Life That Left Me.

You may remember from the last excerpt I posted that Shielan has a Big and Terrible Secret, and accidentally spilled it to Cullen when she was kicking him out of a psychotic break. This is one iteration (I've worked and reworked it so many times; who knows what'll end up getting posted lmao) of what happens after. Ramblings and tags under the cut!

***

“I’ve shown you mercy once already, shem,” she hissed. “Do not test my patience.”

Cullen should’ve sworn himself to secrecy when the demand first left her lips, but he knew on some level it’d be a lie. And Shielan should’ve known too, he thought. As Commander, he’d ultimately supported her decisions, even before she was officially Inquisitor—but not without interrogating her methods first. She’d seen him defend his convictions with a stubbornness that rivaled her own, walked in on him hunched over maps and missives well after dark. She had to know he wouldn’t let this mystery go unsolved, and yet, the hand holding the knife quivered, uncertain against his skin.

Whatever resolve she’d had to begin with was waning, as was her patience for his defiance. But rather than comply, as he knew he should, Cullen searched Shielan’s face for answers, and found something wholly unexpected.

Underneath the strange, sinister clusters of veins were a pair of worried brows over wide, glistening eyes and trembling lips. The same woman who tore through small armies of demons with a triumphant grin, who shouted down an immortal darkspawn as though he were a misbehaving child—the woman who sacrificed herself for the good of thousands she’d never meet—was afraid, and this realization hit Cullen like an arrow through his chest.

“I won’t tell,” he wheezed, and he meant it with his whole heart. It could’ve been part of her strategy, a last ditch effort at manipulating him into acquiescence by playing on his sympathies—and if so, it worked beautifully. Cullen would rather she slit his throat than ever experience fear at his hand.

Shielan’s eyebrows popped up, her lips parting in what he presumed was mild astonishment, and he wondered if she hadn’t expected him to give up so easily. But she withdrew her knife and sheathed it with little fanfare, releasing her hold on him just long enough to grab the strap of her satchel and drag it closer.

“Good to know you still have a few brain cells kicking around in there,” she muttered, rifling through a seemingly endless pit of clinking vials. She plucked a single vial of shimmering liquid from the masses, identical to the elixir for a dreamless sleep she’d given him minutes that felt like ages ago, and uncorked it.

He winced as she held it to his lips. “Do I have to?”

“Is that a serious question?” She sighed heavily, shoulders slumping in this exhausted and unmistakably mortal way that was almost comical considering her terrifying appearance. “I’m offering you the best sleep you’ve had in your whole pathetic life—a rather pleasant alternative to having one’s throat slit, I should add—and you have the audacity to—”

“How do I know this isn’t just another murder attempt?” he asked, one brow cocked.

Shielan shrugged. “You don’t. Now, open up.”

Reluctantly, Cullen parted his lips and allowed her to fill his mouth with viscous, bitter liquid. She held him steady as she tipped the vial, and the tender brushing of her fingertips along his jawline made his feeble heart flutter. If she spoke to him after, he did not hear it.

Tags, for whoever wants to post a thing for LLM or really whatever! @charmcity-jess @oxygenforthewicked @a11sha11fade @scribbledquillz @emerald-amidst-gold @barbex @roguelioness @teknicianwrites

If you haven't read earlier chapters of the fic, you may have missed this, but one of my goals in writing for Cullavellan was to subvert the whole Lady Fawns Over Terrible Man trope. You know, that thing where a man does horrible shit, but he's Just So Handsome that the woman still fawns over him. Even when he makes her angry, even when he's inconsiderate and willfully ignorant, she's still like 0o0o0o but his eyes! His muscles! His bone structure! I decided to do that, but in reverse.

Shielan is fuckin' feral, like in a very early chapter Cullen watched her slit a man's throat and walk away chuckling. In this chapter she is literally threatening to kill him over a secret he can't even begin to comprehend, and his stupid little heart has the audacity to flutter when she touches him!! And though he doesn't know why (because Shielan hasn't divulged her Master Plan to crack the foundations of the Templar Order) she's thus far allowed him to live. He recognizes this as an act of mercy he hasn't earned, and will spend the rest of his life bending over backwards to earn. that. shit.

In an earlier chapter, she asked him: "When you look at me, do you see a person, or a threat to be contained?" At the time he said both.

Not only does she still pose an active threat to him, but she's revealed this monstrous facet of her identity, and yet, this interaction only serves to highlight her humanity for him. Whatever she is, Shielan can't be contained, and Cullen no longer wants her to be.

[aimeelouart]

Ok I've spent a few months lurking and just being a lil too nervous to ask about The Royal House Perdel, but now that I've read the premise ohmygod I love it. I would pay actual money to read it as a book one day.

WHAT. You’re my favorite now. I love you. Take my firstborn.

Since I assume you’re also here for FF7, have a little gift writing of my protag at age 7 hopping dimensions and interacting with the SSC Firsts.

They should have known something was off when they were able to corner Cloud so quickly, but they definitely figured it out when he started giggling.

“Cloud…?” Sephiroth asked cautiously, crouched a short distance from him.

“Pfft, ahaha, your faces!” He said, pointing and covering his mouth with the other hand. Bright orange-red bled out from the root of his hair, spreading down as the strands lengthened and curled. He grew a little taller, a little ganglier, and his face…

Not his face. That wasn’t Cloud at all, though how the laughing girl had accomplished such an effective disguise was a question for another time.

“Who the hell are you!” Genesis exploded. “Where is Cloud!”

“He’s busy,” the little girl said, breaking off her laughter to stick out her tongue at them. “Meanie. He’s following a Virtue! You can’t interrupt that!”

Sephiroth growled, standing up. “Genesis, with me. Angeal, start a conference call. We will begin where we lost Cloud.” He and Genesis darted off, leaving Angeal with the strange new child.

“Wonderful,” he sighed, pulling out his PHS and doing as Sephiroth had commanded. “Another one.” He caught the girl’s arm when she nonchalantly tried to waltz past him. “And where do you think you’re going?”

She blinked. “That way,” she said, pointing.

“Not when you’ve⁠—is that Cloud’s hair?” There was a tuft of pale golden hair clenched in her hand.

“Duh,” she said, “that’s the rule for the spell. ‘A dear thing, freely given. Closer to the skin, more power riven.’”

Angeal struggled to parse through the bewildering statement. “Because Cloud gave you his hair, you were able to...cast a spell to look like him?” He tilted her arm, looking her over for materia, but saw nothing. “Where’s your materia?”

She blinked at him. “What’s materia?”

He decided to abandon the line of inquiry entirely. “Where are your parents?”

Her expression turned sheepish. She scuffed the toe of her sandal across the concrete. “Umm...Granda’ is gonna come find me soon...I’m probably in trouble.”

For the first time, Angeal noticed the glittering jewels held in the intricate lacework of her sandals. They certainly weren’t materia, but they did tell him that her parents must have been very wealthy. “And why are you in trouble?”

She flushed and looked away. “I’m not s’pposed to go through the Gates…” she mumbled.

“The gates?”

“The Gates Between. The ones that cross the Empty Spaces.” She stared down at her feet, and nervously plucked at the hem of her skirt. “Granda’ can open the Gates cuz he’s Imperator, and I can cuz I’m a Mage but he says I’m too little. I’m not supposed to be here, but...but it was calling me! I had to!” She looked up at him with wide, unnatural golden eyes and a pleading little pout.

He had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

⁠—

Genesis took one look at the little redhead sleeping contentedly against Angeal’s shoulder and said “no, no, we already have one, put that back.”

Angeal looked tired and a little defeated, leveling Genesis with an unimpressed glance. With Cloud in the wind, all they could do now was wait for some sign of his whereabouts—probably in the form of demolished ShinRa property. Which left them to deal with everything else for a while instead.

“Believe me,” he said, “I’m not particularly happy about this either. But her parents are impossible to find. She doesn’t exist in any records—and I do mean any records. Even the Turks can’t find anything. And I can’t exactly just leave her with someone.”

Genesis narrowed his eyes. “Why not?”

“She has...abilities. You saw the disguise earlier, but there’s more.” He looked vaguely disturbed, glancing down at the kid like she was a ticking bomb. “A lot more.”

Sephiroth sighed. “Naturally. That seems to be the theme lately, strange children with inexplicable abilities showing up on our doorsteps.”

Finally, a hint of humor broke through Angeal’s tiredness. “Well, look on the bright side. At least this one actually trusts adults.”

“Too much, if she’s sleeping in your arms two seconds after meeting you,” Genesis scoffed.

“The polar opposite of Cloud,” Sephiroth observed, a little bit of humor entering his tone as well.

Angeal shook his head. “Her parents have the resources to keep her very sheltered, from what I’ve gathered. She seems to think that all adults are inherently trustworthy, especially if they, and I quote here, ‘look like they belong in Mama’s First Legion.’”

Genesis and Sephiroth both paused.

“That...makes it sound as if her parents have a personal militia at their disposal,” Genesis said.

“Yeah,” Angeal agreed wryly, “it does, doesn’t it?”

—

She was like a spot of sunshine in the interview room—not an interrogation room, though it did have a one-way mirror and an attached observation space—beaming up at Tseng as she sat on her knees in the chair across from him. Unsurprisingly, the Turks hadn’t exactly had a booster seat handy with their typical interview equipment.

“What’s your full name?” Tseng asked, soft and polite. It was only Angeal’s familiarity with the young man that allowed him to detect the very slight edge of unease in his smile.

Angeal could understand. It wasn’t often that even he was presented with such unconditional trust and guileless curiosity, and the Turks certainly must have experienced it much less.

The little girl opened her mouth and proceeded to deliver an extremely well-rehearsed answer. “Ameliora Octavia, First Mage of the House Perdel, Blessed of the Thirteen,” she rattled off cheerfully, “Crown Princess and heir to the Perdelesian Throne, granddaughter of the Virtuous Emperor Celsus Caesar Perdel and the Virtuous Empress Julia Atossa Perdel, daughter of Caius Julius Perdel, High King of the West, and Fera Tullia Perdel, High Queen of the East.” She gasped in a breath, having spent her entire lung capacity on the extended answer. “You can call me Lora, though, I don’t mind.” She resumed beaming at him.

Even Tseng didn’t seem to know what to say to that.

Then Lora frowned abruptly. “Oh wait, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

Tseng managed to get ahold of himself. “Why is that, Lora?”

She looked up at the ceiling as if trying to remember something. “Granda says that, uh, if I’m ever with strangers I’m supposed to...uhm...tell them ‘Lora’ but nothing else and wait until one of the Praetorians comes to get me.”

“I see. Lora, do you know where you are?”

“Nope!” she said, apparently unbothered by this fact.

“Do you know how you got here?”

“Uh-huh, I opened the Gate in the Archive because it was calling to me in the Strings, and then I walked the Empty Spaces until it felt right and now I’m here.”

Angeal glanced discreetly at the other Turks in the observation room. None of them seemed to know what the hell she was saying either, which was very reassuring.

Tseng looked like he wanted to sigh but restrained himself. “Do you know how to get back home?”

For the first time, Lora flushed crimson and ducked her head. “Umm...nooo…”

“No?”

“‘S why I’m gonna be in trouble...I know how to walk through the Empty Spaces but I dunno how to walk back yet…Granda will come find me, though.”

“How will he know where to find you?”

She blinked at him, and for a moment her unnatural golden eyes glowed like they had a SOLDIER’s mako gleam. “Granda will always find me,” she said. “He swore on the Thirteen the day I was born. ‘Sides, I’m a Mage. Magistra Mara says I look like a supernova when she uses the Strings to see me.” She smiled. “I’m hard to miss.”

“I see,” said Tseng, which was a bald-faced lie. “How old are you, Lora?”

“Seven and a quarter,” she said very seriously.

—

“Hey.” A little hand tugged on the bottom of his jacket and Reno practically jumped out of his skin. Shiva, it was the tiny unnatural demon child. With trepidation, he half-turned and looked down at her.

She was beaming up at him like he’d just given her the best gift in the world. He was absolutely certain that if he picked her up she would snuggle into his arms without a second thought.

It was hands-down the creepiest fucking thing he’d ever seen in his life.

“What,” he bit out, anxious to get away without looking like he was getting away. He could feel Rude laughing at him silently.

“C’mere,” she said, motioning him down. Reno glanced at her babysitter of the hour—Hewley—whose mako eyes promised death if he dared to scare or upset her. Reno weighed the odds for a long second and then slowly crouched.

Immediately, she buried her hands in his hair and started petting and patting, a puzzled little furrow to her brows. “Hey,” he said, jerking back a little, “what do you think you’re doing!”

“I’ve never seen hair like this,” she responded, peering closer.

“You have red hair,” he pointed out, growing increasingly uncomfortable. He could kill her a dozen ways with barely a flick of his hand and she was playing with his hair?

It was unnatural!

“Nuh-uh, my hair’s gold-red and and curls. Yours is all sticky-uppy and looks like an apple.”

“Well, that’s just how it was when I was born!”

“Oh. Huh.” Apparently that was enough for her. She released his hair and looked to Rude instead and Reno felt exactly zero shame for how fast he got up and moved out of range of her creepy, sunshiny eyes.

She motioned Rude down in the same way. He went, a lot more willingy than Reno had, even though Reno knew for a fact that is partner was also pretty fucking creeped out by her. All the Turks were. There was no one—no one—who had ever treated them with such unconditional trust. The little princess was genuinely happy to see them. Even Tseng was freaked out. Even Veld was, though he took it in stride like he did everything else.

Lora plucked the sunglasses right from Rude’s face and put them on. Her mouth made a little ‘o’ of surprise.

“Why would you want dark glass over your eyes?” She asked, holding them in place and looking around curiously.

Without missing a beat, Rude pulled a spare set of sunglasses out of his suit pocket and put them on. Lora giggled. Reno shamelessly abandoned his partner and speed walked away.

—

“Hello, my dear.”

Lora looked up, blinking at the strange man who’d addressed her. “Hello,” she said cheerfully. She was, technically, breaking the rules by wandering around like this, but she was just so curious. There were so many strange things in this place! And sometimes breaking the rules led to wonderful things, like coming here.

“Would you like to see something interesting?”

She gasped in delight. “Yes! What is it?”

“Come with me and I’ll show you,” he said, offering a hand. She took it without hesitation. It was weirdly cold. The man reminded her of her uncle Brutus, who stared at her all the time and Mama always glared at. Uncle Brutus was weird.

She remembered that she actually had to introduce herself here, because people didn’t automatically know her name. “I’m Lora, what’s your name?” she said.

The man smiled. “You can call me Professor Hojo, my dear.”

[Part 2]

[neoninu]

DRAGON BOOSTER REBOOTED // ARTHA PENN

Other Designs: Moordryd

Every few years I come back to Dragon Booster and just thrive in the deep complex lore. To me the world building was absolutely amazing and ground breaking! The characters missed the mark for me though, there’s a lot of potential that just didn’t quite hit for me. So I figured I’d make a couple of mock designs for a pretend reboot! This is what I would have done differently to improve the show! 

(disclaimer, everything is obviously my own opinion, and should be taken as such! Feel free to add in your own ideas!)

--

PERSONALITY/STORY CHANGES!

Honestly I found Artha’s personality to be kinda flat. When reading what the writers initially intended for the character, there was a lot more going on that didn’t come across in the show. 

More emphasis on emotional reactions and state.

More of a difference between regular Artha and Dragon Booster Artha

Normal Artha to be shyer and more hesitant, unsure what he can really achieve if he’s not the Dragon Booster. He’d need to learn that his power and ability to do good always came from him and not his DB abilities. But feel empowered when in his DB form, and come out of his shell!

Artha helped raise his baby brother, Lance, from a young age, (after the death of his mother early on in his life.) The writers said this is why he’s reluctant to more responsibility because he already felt overwhelmed by too much responsibility. As he was also knee high in chores looking after dragons too! I think this should be more emphasised so he doesn’t come across as bratty, highlight why he’s struggling. He’s not spoilt, he’s had a more challenging childhood. 

Allow Artha to talk about his feelings to his friends!!! His dad dies, he’s homeless, his whole life is turned upside down!!! Originally he bounces back so fast, I think it would have been way better to depict the kinda trauma this would have left on him. Have him bit by bit recover, not fully get over within one episode. 

Have Artha’s DB form be a form of escapism from all the shit going on in his life. A way to have fun and let go of the worries of Artha’s life, to just be hero that everyone loves and can do anything. (Although this slowly diminishes as he learns to stand up more as Artha, and in contrast, the weight of the true responsibility of the DB begins set in, being the DB has a LOT more responsibility than he realised and he should begin to feel less freed by becoming the DB and more weighed down that the world’s survival is actually in his hands. Maybe this could lead to panic attacks much later on, as the scale heads more in this direction, feeling unworthy. But to have his friends remind him of everything he’s achieved, as Artha, as the DB, how far he’s come and what he’s survived, remind him of how strong a person he really is. 

Have Artha value his friends way more. In the show currently he’s often dismissive to their input and doesn’t take them seriously, change this so he greatly values his friends and their ideas. Have them be more affectionate! KIDDOS NEED AFFECTION.

This also goes for Artha’s relationship with Lance, he should be way more affectionate to his little brother. Less bickering and belittling, have Artha be the big bro that Artha wished he had growing up. Artha should be supportive and doting of his brother, and super proud of everything he does. It would make Lance less annoying if all their interactions were wholesome and cute. It’s hard to like Lance if he’s treated as the annoying little brother Artha is just stuck with, and it’s just not fun to watch.

A story change but potentially have Mortis and Connor Penn not be the same guy. Have Mortis unintentionally basically adopt these lost street kiddos.THIS TROPE JUST DOESN’T WORK IF *SURPRISE* HE’S ACTUALLY BEEN BENEVOLENT PAPA PENN ALL ALONG. It literally makes no sense for Connor to hide himself from his traumatised homeless kiddos?? If he really loved his kids he wouldn’t do that??? OR ALTERNATIVELY, Connor IS just a shit neglectful father, and have that be a plot point. Rather than just be shook for a second then be a lil moody for a bit but then get over it like it’s nothing within an episode. This man straight up abandoned his kids and left them on the streets to fend for themselves. A good father wouldn’t have done that and then pretended to be someone else! Have Artha cut off toxic family. Just because you’re related by blood doesn’t mean shit. This would also be a staple for how much he’s grown up, forced to mature too early. Artha shouldn’t have to forgive his father. Some things aren’t forgivable just because you’re blood. Give Artha someone else to look up to as a father figure as found family, either another Dragon Priest (if Mortis is someone else, or just straight up a different one altogether.) Or potentially someone else entirely, like Kawake. Found family is far more meaningful because it’s /built/. Connor turning out to have been negligent also works well as a parallel to Moordryd and his shaky relationship with his father, making Artha have more in common with Moordryd.

--

MAIN DESIGN CHANGES!

At the beginning of the show Artha is caught in a house fire, his jacket was permanently damaged from it. I think it would be good to have Artha physically scarred from the fire that killed his dad! So I added burn scars! I also just think scars are cool, sue me. 

I changed his jacket to be a little more biker-esque, (as this is a racing jacket after all!) 

Sleeves were removed to simplify the design. 

His hair style was modernised as it was really very much of it’s era. Undercuts are fun and punky! 

Changed up the eye shape. I wasn’t a fan of the square eyes everyone had. Made them a little more pointed and anime. (The show’s style was supposed to be influenced by anime!)

POINTY EARS! In this world, humans live with dragons right? they have draconium in their bones, I feel like humans with pointy elf-like ears would help fit them into this magical fantasy world. In my reboot, everyone was pointy ears. It just helps give the show more of a unique flare in my opinion. (canonically Kitt’s helmet also implied pointy ears, so it’s really not a huge stretch)

-- COLOUR CHANGES!

I generally love the whacky colour schemes and bright colours and unique fashion style of the universe, although at times the designs have too much going on and clash. 

So in attempt to make Artha’s design more appealing I simplified the colour palette and removed the splash of red. 

I didn’t like how the helmet didn’t match the gold markings of his racing jacket, so I changed the colour scheme to match.

[pagingevilspawn]

Photographs

okay, so thanks to @doc-pickles and @iamtrebleclefstories i’ve been obsessed with with soulmate fanfics in this fandom and the stranger things fandom, so all idea credit goes to those two! 

its also been posted on my wattpad as part of my one shots book- to build a home. i’m not very good with links haha. 

A soulmate AU where on your 16th birthday, you receive three photos of your soulmate

____

His sixteenth birthday was honestly not something he was looking forward to. He knew his mom wouldn't be stable enough to cook him a cake like she had when he was younger, before her condition worsened to the point where nearly all her days were bad ones, unlike how it had been the previous year. He knew she wouldn't cup his face in her hands and softly speak, "Alex, my sweetest boy. My truest love." as she stroked his cheeks ever so tenderly. His dad wasn't around anymore, which he knew was a positive thing, well, he supposed it was.

But it was still the first birthday without his dad in it, and that thought made him sad. Not a lot, but a little. Just because all of his birthdays for the past nine years had been his dad telling him that he was a waste of space and a 'fucking idiot' didn't mean he didn't miss him in the smallest way shape or form. He was still his dad after all. The guy who brought him to the fair when he was younger. The guy who briefly taught him how to play guitar. And on the rare occasion when he was sober for about a week or so, would bring Alex out to fix up a pick up truck his dad planned to give him on his sixteenth birthday, but ultimately started using not long before his fifteenth.

He knew Aaron and Amber would maybe do something, but he knew there wasn't much they could do. They were only four and ten. They shouldn't do anything for their brother because he was feeling crappy about a day that didn't even mean that much to him.

Ugh. Birthdays. He thought they were really stupid. Why make a big deal out of the day you were born? Especially if nobody really seemed to care much about your existence.

That's why when he awoke on his sixteenth birthday he was surprised. He'd completely forgotten about what happened on the day everyone had told him about since, well... since he could remember. Some of the things people said to him when he was still was a small boy were nice and comforting, something that made him look forward to this special day, like "Oh, what a lucky women that boy's soulmate will be," was something he got often when he was younger, before his mom's schizophrenia and before his dad's substance abuse. He used to be a really sweet kid. He gave his lollipops to others who looked like they wanted it more, he shared his toys with people in the park. He talked and interacted with everyone from a young age. He was a cute kid too, he remembered. That's what people always said. They would pinch his chubby cheeks and ruffle his dark brown hair, which would lead to Alex giving them his signature crooked smile, which warmed the hearts of many. "What a sweet soulmate he will be.", "The special girl won't know what hit her!" , "He will treat her like a queen i'm sure." thats what daycare teachers and random moms at the park used to say to his parents, complimenting him on how well little Alex treated their daughters. While most boys his age we certain that girls had cooties, Alex just simply talked to him and played with them like they were just a normal person. Not to mention, what a little charmer he was. He was a flirt from the moment he was born. He told some girls he thought they were 'weally pwetty' and said he liked the bows in their hair or the outfit they were wearing. He had mad game. Even from the young age of four he had somehow even managed to completely charm his preschool teacher Ms. Ryan, who he thought was the most beautiful women to ever walk the face of the earth at the time (other than his mom). Ms. Ryan definitely favored Alex, always giving him extra treats at snack, or letting him out first to go to recess. Turns out, being thirty three and a four year old boy telling you on an almost daily basis that 'your dwess is supa pwetty Ms. Ryan' or 'i wike your hair vwery much' was a major confidence booster.

It all changed when he was five though, when his mom's condition was getting worse and his dad started using more and more and more. The situation just decreased as the years went on. Out were the compliments and looks of adoration and in rolled the dirty glares and not-so secret whispers. "What a poor girl to have him as her soulmate.", "I would hate for my daughter to be tied to him forever.", "Let's just hope his soulmate can put up with him." were the ones he heard instead. It used to hurt, but now he didn't mind. He didn't have any friends, any girlfriends, just some mere acquaintances. All he could really say he had were about half of the school's females tucked under his belt. Something he didn't actually care about. Sex was a defense mechanism. Sex made him feel wanted. If some girl was throwing herself at him, he took the opportunity. He felt like he was wanted, even if it was just for twenty minutes in some random parking lot.

He didn't really care for birthdays.

So, imagine his surprise when he woke up that morning to find an orange envelope on his dresser table. It was then he remembered. He remembered that the day of your sixteenth birthday you found out who your soulmate was.

He grabbed the folder so quickly it was like a flash of light. This envelope gave him hope. Hope that one day, someone would care about him. Because, that was the point of soulmates, right? A soulmate was someone who was made for you. Someone who would be okay with all the crap life had thrown at him. Some who would love you. Because, his soulmate would right? Right. She had to. He needed somebody. He really, really needed somebody. And his soulmate was his somebody. Hopefully.

With that thought he takes a deep breath and nearly rips the envelope open. He pulls out the three photos in it delicately, not wanting to even risk a crease or fold forming on the photos. He flips them over one by one.

The three photos.

Wow.

The three photos he'd been hearing about since he was a little boy.

The first one, as he had learned, is what your soulmate looked like on the day of their sixteen birthday, whether it be in the future or the past.

He feels stupid, really stupid. He was smiling like a god damn idiot.

She was hot, his soulmate. Really hot.

Her long brown hair was in gentle curls, natural he could tell. He knew what real curls were versus curling iron ones. She had bright golden eyes. He swore, they were like actual gold. They had specks of green, yellow, and honey. A little beauty mark sat by her right lip. And those lips? They were plump, full, and a bright pink. In the photo she was smiling. He really liked her smile. It was joyous, it made him feel happy, in a way he'd never felt before. He assumed she was laughing, based on the fact that her head was slightly tilted back. From what he could tell, she was wearing a pair of jeans and a flannel. He liked that about her, the fact that she wasn't wearing whatever uncomfortable shit he'd seen some girls at his school wear. She looked like she was dressed how she wanted to and wasn't gonna let society or school cliques tell her otherwise.

He let out a small sigh as he placed down the photo delicately, as if he dropped it any harsher it would break like glass. He picks up the second photo, another smile gracing his lips as he studies it.

The second photo was always of your soulmate the day you met. Well, more specifically, the first time you meet. In his, the girl looked even more beautiful. Except now, she wasn't a girl, she was a woman, and that was obvious. Her face was a bit fuller, and instead of having her hair down this time, two strands of her dark locks were framing her face. He could tell she was in the middle of saying something, but her face wasn't frozen in some awkward position. It looked natural, like a well shot candid.

Alex placed down the second photo just as delicately as the first, setting them side by side. The third and final photo he wasn't quite ready for.

The last photo was a picture of them at their worst. When they had hit absolute rock bottom, before thirty though. Again with the age. Alex didn't get it. Why should they put an age limit on knowing your soulmate? Wasn't there a saying in wedding vows, "for better or worse"? and that was for married people for god's sake. So, why shouldn't he be able to see his soulmate at her worst? It made sense right?

Alex flipped over the photograph hesitantly, his breath getting caught in his throat.

He slams the photo down on the bed as quickly as he could, not being able to look at it any longer.

He understood now.

His soulmate was beaten and bruised, almost all her marks, scars, and bruises visible due to the nightgown she wore. In the photo she was crying, silent tears, he could tell.

He understood now, why they only let you see towards a certain age. Because what if it was worse? What if something worse had happened while his soulmate was older?

A horrible thought came to his mind, shaking it off immediately.

No, he did not do that.

He knew he didn't. He wouldn't. He'd seen his dad beat his mom again and again. He would never be like his dad. He swore on it.

But still, that lingering thought in his mind.

No.

Instead of thinking further, he picked up the first photo of her, the one wheres she is sixteen too. He studies it, knowing that by tomorrow the photo would be gone. Just like the others. That was how it worked anyways. The photos only lasted a day. The next morning, the pictures would be gone. All he knew about her would be her face, which he was going to imprint into his memory as best as he could. The universe seemed to enjoy playing games with people, so again after the one day, your memory of the photo was foggy. Very foggy. It wasn't until you actually met your soulmate when you would remember the photos you saw when you were sixteen. So, her studied her. Even laugh line, every beauty mark, every freckle (she had them sprinkled in every so lightly on her nose). He would remember it all, he told himself that. So that way when he saw her, he would know. But of course, forgetting was inevitable.

He smiles at the photo, biting his lip in a failed attempt to stop his smile from growing. It all seemed surreal to him. A soulmate. He had one? He, Alexander Michael Karev, a boy who had to grow up much younger than most, had a soulmate? Someone who would be okay with his crap?

The man was far from a romantic. He gagged at chick flicks and still felt uncomfortable when he saw any form of PDA, whether it be him or anyone else, but he swore, he thinks this girl would make him okay with everything. For this girl, he could see himself do anything. He would jump in front of a bear for her. No doubt. It didn't matter that he had never even met her. He just knew.

He shrugs the sappy thoughts away, scoffing at himself, in an attempt to not lose his 'tough guy behavior'.

Get a hold of yourself Karev. She's just a girl.

But even those thoughts couldn't erase the smile from his face.

____

On the night before her sixteenth birthday, she was anxious. Really anxious. And scared. She could barely sleep that night, tossing and turning without being able to stop in the backseat of her car. But she knew the envelope wouldn't come unless she slept, since it only showed up after you fell asleep. So, she squeezed her eyes as tight as she could like a little girl wishing to see fairies and let the exhaustion of the days events take over her.

As she awoke the next morning, she temporarily forgot everything. For her, it was jut another day, trying to pry her exhausted eyes open, her mind having a battle with her body. She makes tiny noises as she drifts towards consciousness, her brain foggy with jumbled words and half made thoughts.

When she does manage to open her eyes, she sees an orange envelope tucked into the car's window from the inside. She doesn't think much of it at first, her brain still not on the cognitive thinking side of things, until she wakes up a bit more, remembering the day it was.

She sits up with a start, grabbing the envelope and opening it carefully, but still so quickly that the photos were tumbling out.

She picks up the first from the deck. A photo of her soulmate on his sixteenth birthday. And damn, she was a lucky woman.

He had a sharp jawline, no scratch that, a really freakin sharp jawline. Like you could run your finger across and you would end up with a cut. His messy-yet-styled hair was a dark brown. He had a broad build, biceps pulsing out form the white t-shirt he wore, and a really freakin sexy half smirk. His eyes were a dark brown like his hair, but his eyes, they held something familiar. They held, loneliness. Longing. Exhaustion. That was a big one. At first glance, you couldn't tell, but she could see, behind the eyes of dark brown and bits of green, he was exhausted. Exhausted of what? She didn't know. But she could tell, since she was sure she had the same in her orbs too.  Loneliness. She felt that one too. But him? Lonely? He didn't look like the lonely type. He looked like the guys she saw at her school, the ones were girls falling at their feet and at least five different men to meet him every morning by the lockers to do a 'bro hug'. But she knew to not make assumptions. Longing. What was he longing for? A better life? Better parents? Better friends, better grades? She had no idea, but the look was clear in his eyes. But there was one more thing that shone in his seas of brown. Hope. The day of the photo was of the day of his sixteenth birthday. Could the glimmer of hope be for her? Could she be the cause of someone to believe. Probably not, but still, it never hurt to dream.

The second photo was of him the day they meet. And once again, she was a lucky lady. She couldn't quite see what he was wearing, but it looked to be some type of flimsy dark blue materiel. He had a half snarl on his face, but it didn't really look awkward, like she assumed it would on others. It looked natural, like he'd done it so many times before, it just came with ease.

He had the slightest bit of a stubble on his face, looking like he'd just shaved that morning or the night before, a bit more hair visible in the mustache area. His hair was a bit shorter than the previous photo, but not by much. It was better styled, but still looked like he had run his hands through it too many times to count. She sets the photo down next the the other one, taking a deep breath before flipping over the third and final photograph.

She intakes a sharp breath upon seeing the picture, tears pooling in her eyes at the sight in her hand. It was her soumate, lyig in a pool of his own blood, the red liquid coming from his chest.

He was shot.

In the chest, she assumed. That's where the most of the blood was at. She bites her bottom lip, trying to keep it from trembling. He was what seemed to be a metal box. An elevator? That seemed most likely. His blood stained clothes were previously a light blue, his hair shorter than the previous two photos.

The clothing, it liked familiar. Where had she seen them before? She racks her brain, trying to identify what her soulmate was wearing, purposefully ignoring the large sum of red surrounding the man.

A small smile graces her lips. Scrubs. She'd seen them on a few people when she went into town. So that meant he was doctor. Right? Or a nurse, but he didn't really look like he would be a nurse. And his scrubs were a different color than the ones in the precios picture. She assumed the clothing were scrubs in the second photo as well.

She swallowed thickly. It hurt. She felt the pain. The pain of her soulmate getting shot. It hurt like hell, and she wasn't even experiencing it first hand. But it still hurt. It felt like someone was grabbing her heart and squeezing it. It wasn't the same type of pain, but it was still pain nonetheless.

With that she sets the photo down. The fear starts to kick in then.

How would he soulmate feel about her past? He looked normal. Despite the loneliness and longing in his eyes, her looked normal.

What if she screwed it up? What if he couldn't deal with her crazy? She was Brooke. Hobo, car living, foster home, no parents Brooke.

She shoved the thoughts aside. He was her soulmate. The handsome stranger with the dark eyes that were somehow calming was her soulmate. Who knows, maybe he was just as screwed up as her.

____

Alex Karev had always been impatient. Ever since he was a little boy really.

So imagine how impatient he was when he was twenty nine years old and had still yet to meet his soulmate.

Her loved Izzie, and she had lost Denny, her soulmate. They made each other happy. They loved each other, she was probably going to die. He loved her, so they got married. He got married to someone who wasn't his soulmate. He had given up at that point. I mean, come on. Twenty nine years he'd been on this planet and he still had yet to meet his soulmate. God, he really wished he could just remember her face. He couldn't remember a single thing. Everything else from the day was clear, but the photos that held his soulmates face were a complete blur, nearly nonexistent. All he could remember were his feelings. He remembers thinking she was really hot. And he remembers feeling really happy. Too happy. He pushed the feelings aside. He loved Izzie.

And it hurt like hell when she left. They had their arguments, sure. But he loved her. He waited to kiss her because he wanted it to be special. He gave her a cupcake on her birthday because he wanted her to know she was loved. He wanted to let her know that she wasn't just another notch under his belt. He was a jerk, he knew that. He could be grumpy and he pushed people away. He guessed he pushed Izzie away.

He didn't know if he was ever going to meet his soulmate. He tried dating by and only had a list of failed relationships. And then the plane crash happened. He should've been on that plane, but Robbins boarded it instead. Maybe he would've been the one to lose a leg. Then Robbins would still be happy and making Alex gag at how in love her and Callie were. They were soulmates. It seemed like everyone had already gout their soulmate. Meredith had Derek. Callie had Arizona. Owen had Cristina, even though they had more than many disagreements. Bailey had Ben. Everybody had somebody.

Except him.

And that freakin sucked. So, he slept with the interns. Lots of them. Stacy, Tina, Irene, Brooks, Murphy. He'd pretty much given up on meeting his soulmate. At thirty-two he had still yet to meet the girl from the photographs.

So, sleeping with the interns and having non serious , inappropriate relationships with them it is.

____

She had always been impatient. When she was six she once punched a boy because one; he was being a complete ass, and two; he was taking too long to give her the crayon. he deserves it. he was making fun of her and purposefully trying to flatten the green crayon just to annoy her. he deserved the punch.

So when she met a man who treated her like a queen, who didn't beat her down for not having parents and living in her car she felt amazing. He called her beautiful and showered her with gifts and expensive foods. she didn't really care about that though, she enjoyed when he would delicately hold her like she was a porcelain doll. When he would greet her with a deep kiss after he came home from work.

She loved him so much that she agreed to marry him after only being together for eleven months. She knew Paul wasn't her soulmate, but a man who treated her so nicely, a man who was ever do handsome, wanted her? Who treated her with such love and tenderness, so what if he wasn't her soulmate. She was twenty three years old and hadn't met him yet. And if this amazing guy wanted her and loved her as much as she loved him, than it was okay, not being with her soulmate.

She held onto that love. She held onto that love for three years. Three years of beatings, begging that the man who showed her so much love and kindness would come back and stay.

Because Paul wasn't always bad. Some days he would come home and give her that breathtaking kiss as he walked through the door. Some days he still held her like she was a little porcelain doll.

Some days he did still show her that love like he used to that first year. But those days were few and far between.

She wished she had just waited. Gotten over her impatience for something real and waited. Maybe then everything would be okay.

Maybe one day she'll meet him.

....

She was no longer Brooke. No more with Brooke Stadler or the various names she took from all the different foster homes.

Now she was Jo. Josephine. Josephine Alice Wilson. It's who she felt like.

Jo. It was a bit old-timey, sure. But she liked it, the fact that she could probably confuse people who had only seen her name and think she was a boy. She didn't want to be a man, but maybe people would be surprised to see that all this well done work was actually done by a woman.

Jo was strong. Jo was powerful. Jo was the person she had always wanted to be.

She left behind Brooke. Brooke was... she was someone else. Brooke was a survivor. But Brooke was scared. Scared of everything. But Jo?

Jo knew Paul could find her. It would be hard, very hard. And he probably wouldn't, but now she wasn't scared. Brooke would've been scared. Brooke wouldn't been scared shitless. But Jo? No, Jo was far from scared. She was excited. She was eager. Because she had a new start. She got to be whoever the hell she wanted. She could go out and drink with her friends. She could go out and drink until she probably couldn't walk. She could do whatever the hell she wanted. She could wear whatever the hell she wanted. She could talk however the hell she wanted.

Because she was Jo.

But Jo did still want the one thing Brooke wanted. To find her soulmate. Sure, by now she knew that he probably didn't exist and the whole ordeal was just plain poppycock, but she wanted to find him. She really, truly, desperately wanted to find him.

She was twenty-seven years old and had a nonexistent love life. a few random hook ups from a bar were not included.

Maybe here. Maybe in Seattle she would meet her soulmate.

____

She was on Peds today, with Alex Karev. She hadn't  ever met the man before, but she had heard more about him than she cared to. Mainly from Leah Murphy with the occasional input from Heather Brooks. From what she gathered, the easiest way to label him was a man whore. So she wasn't really the most excited to be on his service for the week.

She'd been in Seattle for a month now, starting her internship as Seattle Grace Mercy West Hospital. She was in love. Sure, doing scut all day and running labs wasn't much, but when she gets to observe from inside the OR? She felt like she won the freakin lottery.

The girl grabbed a trauma gown form behind her attending. "Do you mind" he snarls not even meeting her gaze as he turns around and heads to the ambulance bay.

She says she was sorry, but she doesn't think he hears her.

"Why are you following me?" she doesn't know why, but for some reason his voice gives her butterflies. She hadn't gotten a look at his face yet, but she assumed it was turned into a grimace.

"I'm your intern for the day." her voice sends tingles through him, shooting down his spine. He hadn't seen her yet, but her voice was strangely comforting.

"Hello intern you got a-" he starts, stopping as soon as he looks at her.

He feels breath get caught in his throat. no, surely he was imagining things. Right?

She feels like she can't breathe. That face. It was the same one as the one she saw on her sixteenth birthday. She remembers him. His sharp jawline and tiny bit of stubble.

And those eyes. she remember those eyes.

They held the same things as before. Loneliness, longing, exhaustion. But now, the tiny glimmer of hope she once saw was bright, not like the barely there she saw once before.

He felt everything in that moment. She was just like he remembered. Her long brown hair was swept up into a low updo, two dark strands framing her face. She had that little beauty mark by lip. And her eyes, they were truly everything. They showed him what she was feeling, surprise, disbelief, a bit of fear, hope. he knew his eyes were telling her the same thing.

They're not sure how long they're standing there in the middle of the ambulance bay, oblivious to the two other people next to them.

She wasn't sure how long it was until he broke the silence, a large crooked smile making its way onto his lips.

"Hi."

he whispers so delicately, like if he were to speak any louder the world around then would shatter.

She feels he smile widen, but now grinning from ear to ear.

"Hi."

[whiskeyworen]

Speluncophobia 2: Electric DEAR GOD WHAT IS THAT?!

Me and my friends had another Deep Rock Galactic night last night. Oh man. I don’t know why, but for some reason, we went from ‘This is pretty fun! It’s a challenge sometimes, but as long as we don’t screw up, it’s fun!” ... to “OH SWEET HELL, what is THAT thing?! Why is the map tilted at 75 degrees, filled with thorny vines that hurt, the bugs NEVER stop, and what the hell just roared?!” Seriously though, we moved on to Hollow Bough for a refining mission. The moment we stepped off the lift, we knew something was up; the end of the lift didn’t touch LAND. The entire map was a cylinder tilted at a Leaning Tower of Pisa angle, and absolutely filled with thorny vines. So here we are, trying to get objectives done, and the Glyphids keep coming. Almost all of them are armored to some degree, and there was a gratuitous amount of the Praetorians. Like, we stepped off the lift, and within 20 seconds, THREE of the damned things were already waiting for us. That mission literally took FOREVER, because we kept getting downed and having only one survivor. Actually... our first attempt failed miserably; we wiped. We started wondering if we’d accidentally clicked over to Ultra Nightmare mode, because, damn, the difficulty went sky high. But no... difficulty was the same... but the zone we dropped in, the mission we dropped in, apparently got the ‘this is a deathworld mission’ modifier by the system. One of our later missions was to dig out and kill some Glyphid Dreadnoughts. While we searched for them, one of my friends (he’d gotten farther than us) warned us that each found Dreadnought would have a randomized quirk, a random ability, which might mean it’d be hard as hell to kill beyond its normal health. We found a Dreadnought egg, and popped it. The one that popped out had regenerative armor...and could randomly cause massive AOE lava-pillar spike bursts. Its FIRST attack downed two of four of us, and sent the others screaming. All the damage we did to its VERY thick outer shell repaired a few seconds later. That was unpleasant to learn. It took us so long to kill it. I’m so glad I had a Plasma burster grenade, because that shit ate DEEP into its armor as it passed by. But the number of downs we got in just that one fight.... and we still had another to go. The next one we found, my friend said we were lucky not to get the ‘Twins’ quirk. Instead, we got the Supervillain quirk; The beast was entirely invincible while its minions (three hive guards, each one putting out toxic orange gas, and leaving trails of orange goo that you got stuck in when they died) were alive. Kill them, and you have to still crack the beast’s armor before doing actual HP damage. And then... it’d Call again, go invincible, and we’d have to deal with its buddies again. It didn’t help we were fighting it and its minions in the tunnel we dug to its egg; things got VERY tight in there. The best thing to happen though, was in a refining mission. Before launch, we’d had some of those booster beers at the bar. The one we grabbed had something to do with increased Gold when collecting gold or something like that. Forget what it was called. Immediately after leaving the lift, we ran into a Glyphid Crassus Detonator. A beast that, upon death, plasters the surrounding area with a crater of SOLID GOLD. And it blew up near a wall with overhang, so we had THREE directions to mine for gold. And thanks to that drink, every pick strike filled our personal stockpiles by like, 33%. So three hits, and we’d be full. And it took a LOT of hits. We resolved to finish that mission no matter what, because it took us like 20 minutes to mine all the gold. That’s how much there was. And it was right beside the refiner, so we just dropped it all in right there. When we finished, we each had earned over 5900 credits worth of gold. We walked away with 6700 credits from that ONE mission. We were laughing so hard I was almost crying. Somewhere between screaming in horror and laughing in greedy madness, we had a hell of a lot of fun. I still curse the Glyphids though.