Wat.

(Yandere!Max LOL)

Some of my crazy ramblings from the last thread:

- Max somehow gets a JLI float in the Mardi Gras parade, and he gets a bunch of them to ride on it and throw beads to people.

-(Oh god, Max meeting someone on the internet and cybering with them only to find out it's L-Ron...)

- Well, that's why I like to go with the "holo-projected human body" deal. Because then we can just write normal sex and technobabble the robot part away, and we get to do plots like "L-Ron disguising himself as a hot chick to get Max's attention" and "Max passing L-Ron off as his hot secretary and using him to distract businessmen" and "Max makes L-Ron make himself look like Booster" and "Max makes L-Ron turn into what he thinks he would look like as a human and then has sex with him in that form and it's sappy". I seem to like making him disguise himself as a girl though, at least the first time they do it, I don't know why.

Also, L-Ron and Skeets and the Bug totally used to cyber for the heck of it, and because they liked mocking the humans. If they ever bring back the JLI and include Jaime in it, the Scarab would join them.

I'm storytiming them! It's "I Can't Believe It's Not the Justice League." That particular scene is in the...second to last book, I think?

Get it all here:
http://mediafire.com/comrade-insomniac

oh god wat

>>47231

...OMG. LOOKIT ALL THE SHINY COMIX.

I know what I'll be doing the next few weeks!

Is it a team of strippers that fight crime? Are there male strippers on it? Why is this so fitting and so hilarious and omg I want to see Max with stripper!Booster

>>47240
Sadly Booster isn't a stripper, he's a douchebag that punches Ice in the face because Max said so

THOSE EXPRESSIONS. SO CUTE.

So, if Gladys wasn't real, then why'd he...?

(It should say TED. Or KORD.)

>>47244
Retcon, child.

Also, this is strangely appropriate. I really, really want fic with Star Sapphire Max Lord

>>47243

...What, he couldn't do it himself?

No, I figured he wasn't actually a stripper, I meant fanart.


Anyway, Max being cute for a change. D'aaaw, him and Sue.

>>47245

Ah ha ha, that is so screwed up.

I think SS Booster is more likely though. I mean, they like recruting people with "great loss in their hearts..." Orange Lantern Max is more obvious, but not as funny. Actually, you coud still make him all creepy posessive, he'd just be wearing an orange suit instead of a pink stripper outfit.

...Normal good!Max would be greed and creepy evil!shootypeople!Max would be love. What?


(PIMP!MAX IS SUPERLICIOUS. AND PROBABLY GOT A BLOWJOB THIS MORNING.)

>>47249
i could not resist

Was going through my screensaver pictures for something to drabble a silly little thing off of and I was reminded that I found this somewhere.

It will never cease to make me giggle.

>>47287
Would that make Rip Hunter Rufus?

>>47210

This picture just ruined my whole fucking life.

>>47245

Alright, where's this from? It's not showing up for me.

>>47334
From a drawthread, brah

How would booster react if he met Earth-11 Ted?

>>47366
Would it be chubby phase or fit phase for Teddi?

>>47386

Cute somewhere-in-between-ness?

I remember in Earth-11, it was Maxine that killed Booster and Ted who had the womanangst about it. Which makes my theory of Earth-11!Ted being Rip's mommy more plausible.

And star sapphires are about any kind of love--including possessive, totally creepy love as Carol as exhibited every now and then at Hal.

>>47395

Except it was still Jaime (or at least his armor) doing the Blue Beetle thing, so I'm guessing Earth-11!Ted retired shortly after Booster's death.

SO I HAVE A STORY BUT IT'S LONG AND I DON'T FEEL LIKE TRYING TO WRITE THE WHOLE DARN THING SO I WROTE A SUMMARY FEEL FREE TO USE BITS AS PROMPTS OR WHATEVER.

(Featuring Brightest Day, Star Sapphire Max, Blue Lantern Ted, everyoneislanterns!basically, Max is really a good guy, Max <3's Booster, FyeahJLI, haters getting pwned, Ted coming back to life and threesome. Might elaborate at some point.)


Good!robot!Max wakes up at Checkmate base and walks out because no one recognizes him, meets L-Ron, finds stuff out, angst

Crazy ass brightest day stuff is happening

Good!Max becomes Orange Lantern, goes to find JLI

They are being menaced by evil!Max as a Star Sapphire, being creepy and molesty towards Booster

(Booster=SS, Tora=Indigo, Bea=Red, others idk)

Orange Max drags Sapphire Max off and they argue about the creepy Booster crushing as JLI escapes

Black Lanterns show up, including Ted, Max’s fight them

Orange Max manages to turn Ted’s spirit into a construct to fight for him

SS Max loses powers when he realizes he is selfish(or something over Ted, just go with it okay)

Suddenly! White Lantern deity and Boston Brand show up and transport them and L-Ron and Teds to a Checkmate base

White combines Teds to give real!Ted a temporary body, explains that Checkmate only gave human!Max his memories and not his emotions and reprogrammed him to destroy the JL, he needs robot!Maxs consciousness merged with his to be complete and to help her fight the Black Lanterns

Ted is needed to make the machine things to do this work

Ted and human!Max agree to cooperate, robot Max loses the Orange ring because of his compassion and love for his friends/Booster/Ted

They do it, L-Ron helps, Ted reassures human!Max and tells him Booster will like him more this way (heh)

When Max is merged he is overcome by guilt, he first tries to get Ted to shoot him, then shoots himself

White restores him, says he can’t die until he helps save the universe

Ted comforts Max and encourages him to do what’s right

Suddenly! Blue lantern ring! Ted has the ability to inspire great hope, and he can stay manifested as long as he wears the ring

Max encourages him to go help the rest of the JLI fight, they part on good terms, Max makes Ted take L-Ron with him to show him that humans can be good

Max goes off with White deity and Boston

*skip*

Everyone is fighting Black Lanterns together

White Lanterns Max and J’ohn sees the JLI with Ted (and SS Ralph and Sue) and are happy

J’ohn goes to join them, awesome happens, they’re all crazy and happy…and not paying attention

Max sees a bad guy almost get them, shoots him and yells at them

*beat* *awkward stares*

More Black Lanterns attack and they all fight together

Pause in the action, other superheros (mostly Superman) berate the JLI and Booster

Max gets pissed, reverses the mind screw so all of them remember him, and tells Superman if he ever insults Booster and his JLI again he’ll make him hit himself in the nuts. And then he and the JLI walk off to go fight more zombies

And he and Booster and Ted banter, and he tells Sue he missed her and he tells Wonder Woman to not feel guilty about killing him because he’s a big jerk

*another skip*

Yay, fights over, good guys won

White Lanterns all get rewarded by the Lantern deities for saving the day

Max debates wealth and power and stuff, but them remembers how much he loved being with the JLI…

“THEODORE KORD OF EARTH…LIVE.”

Max hugs Ted, everyone rushes over to Ted and squees over him

Max drags Booster to him, more squee, Booster hugs both of them

Max uses powers to make Booster and Ted kiss already, “…Well, it’s not like it’s the first time we’ve embarrassed ourselves in front of the entire league.”

They kiss for real, everyone ends up cheering, yays

Epilogue

Max is only remembered by the heroes, leaves it that way so people will stop trying to use him to get to them, sort of joins newly reformed JLI as secret weapon and so they can keep an eye on him, fixes damage done to everyone’s lives, yay

Ted/Max/Booster threesome ensues

L-Ron and Skeets and the Bug and the Scarab-with Jaime attached, are having a robot chat, Max hangs out and helps Jaime with his homework

end

>>47395

SSMax as posessive creepy love, and SS Booster as fluffy eternal love, and Max thinks the fact that they are both Star Sapphires means they were ment to be together...and Booster would probably have a harder time resisting *because* of the rings...

And other random plot ideas that I've had: evil!present!Max is from another world, one where meta's are evil and fighting aganist humans, and Michael Carter came from the desolate future to try and stop them...and he and Max were lovers. And that's why this Max is obsessed with Booster and hates Ted. (In his world, Ted was probably either killed or on the meta's side, so he and Michael never met.)

The one I'm going with right now is Checkmate taking robot!Max's memories but with his emotions detached from them so he doesn't remember his friendship with the JLI and putting them in a human body, and then further programming human!Max to hate all metas and want to destroy them and the Justice League. So he remembers that he wanted Booster to be his, but doesn't remember that he refrained from saying anything about it because he cared about him and Ted and knew they'd be happier together. So eventually robot!Max wakes up and either destroys human!Max or they merge somehow and Max has to deal with remembering his friendship with the JLI and his betrayal of them and lots of angst would happen.

I also think that human!Max would have stronger powers because he's fully human. When Max first started using his powers, he was already part cyborg. Robot!Max might also be wary of becoming fully human again because the only time in his life he was really a decent person was when he was part robot. Yay more angst.

(I just think in this case, a threesome would solve lots of problems between the three of them in the end, because Max would get to have Booster and Booster wouldn't be cheating on Ted and Ted wouldn't feel left out. Especially if they get to top Max and make him beg for it at some point. Okay yeah, I just really like that image.)

what the world needs now:
-love
-sweet love
-MORE JUSTICE RIDERS. all i have ever found is one (extremely hot) fic. get on it, people.

if you have not read it, you should. it's an elseworlds. JLA meets the old west. and our boys are in it! i just uploaded it to the mediafire i linked a few posts back.

>>47430

There's two (i think) on boostlethon and I did a blowjob fic for the previous kink meme some time back. So I think there's only four Justice Riders fic in existence. Which is still not enough.

>>47443
oh jesus, that blowjob fic was you? HNGH. one of my favorites ever.

i am going to write/draw more of that. FOR THE GOOD OF THE WORLD.

>>47445

Wait, that one fic you found was mine? I though you were talking about ...And the American Way which I adore and shameless ganked background stuff from in the blowjob thing.

For anyone that hasn't read it (i don't know how) here's the link:

http://poisonivory.livejournal.com/292885.html#cutid1

>>47446

Yay that fic. I'd like to see yours too though.

Hey, isn't RoBW going to the ol' West next issue? Maybe there'll be a shoutout.

(...Was Max in it? He need to have a big handlebar moustache and tie Ted to the railroad tracks at some point.)

>>47471
Max was in Justice Riders. He was the bad guy, which is interesting because as I recall, that was written *before* he went all dark-side in main DC continuity. And he has an army of mechanical men. Foreshadowing much?

observation: there is not nearly enough porn in our porn threads lately.

>>47489

That implies that there could ever be enough porn to which I say: lies.

>>47489

FFFFFFFFFFF yes the position and the expressions and the blowjobs and everything yummy.

Mini-spam of what little Justice Riders stuff I know of! Add more if you got 'em!
---
(from boostlethon)

The thing to know about Ted Kord is that he likes being the crackpot inventor just shy of complete lunatic. For one thing, it's great publicity. But mostly he just loves tinkering with machines, taking them apart and putting them together in new and exciting ways. Making them better. He never had wings or superhuman strength or an attitude, but he made things better, and that had been enough for him to up and help save the world, once.

Sometimes he gets drunk and explains this, loudly to the rest of the bar. Which is probably why they all have taken to calling him “hero” in that friendly teasing sort of way that means they don't believe it for a minute but it's funny to say. Ted doesn't mind. They like his inventions, which is more important. And he saved the Reyes ranch house from burning last summer, though no one actually knows that but the Reyes themselves. He doesn't shout about this when he's drunk. It wasn't Jaime's fault anyway, poor kid, but it would sure seem that way to other people.

He's at the saloon tonight, debating cheaper and safer substitutes for coal with a fellow named Queen who's on his way to Coast City. The door bursts dramatically open (a feature that bought Ted his first drink free for whenever he visits) and in steps a dusty, out-of-breath man in the remains of what once must have been quite a dapper suit.

“Booster?” Ted asks, adjusting the eyepiece of his intelligence enhancer as if it'll somehow help him see better. “Is that you?”

Booster Gold up and vanished after the first and last ride of the Justice Riders. Ted kept an eye out and an ear open for news for a while, and sometimes he'd hear things, but mostly there was a big nothing where Booster and the other Riders were concerned. To be fair, at least Booster'd explained where he was going. With everyone else it was here one minute, gone the next.

Not that “y'know, out there somewhere. Gonna strike it rich. Maybe California.” was much of a destination, but at least he tried.

Now Booster's peering at him, and bursts into a tired but excited grin. “Beetle! I did remember the right town!”

“Sure did, buddy,” Ted says, grinning back. There's something gratifying about someone being that happy to see him. And he and Booster were pals, back with the Riders. “So... what brings you here?”

Booster's grin fades noticeably. “You know anything about the Royal Flush Gang?”



Booster Gold carries at least five guns of varying sizes. This is new; back with the Riders he only had three. He's got healing scars on his arms like he had a bad run-in with a whip or a rope, and there's blood on his clothes. He hasn't got any other possessions with him. He struck something in California, all right, but it sure wasn't rich. Ted spends a few minutes trying to figure out if he can afford to help him out, and then Queen drops a few bank notes on the table. “Spend 'em well, boys,” he says, and drains his glass in one swig. “Looks like you need it more than I do.”

Booster looks down at them but doesn't pocket them, which seems a little odd for someone out to strike it rich. Ted stows the bills in his wallet and finishes his own drink. “Well, come on, then,” he says to Booster, who looks mostly surprised at that. “You're bunking with me, right?”

“I,” says Booster, and then, “Yeah, sure.”

“Thanks, Queen,” Ted adds to the other out-of-towner; Queen just waves it away.

“From what I know of the Royal Flush Gang, I doubt your pal has anything left to pay with,” Queen replies.

Booster looks sheepish. “True enough,” he says. “Wasn't gonna say anything.”

“We'll figure this out later. When I'm sober.”

Queen stands up, leaning on one hand on the table, and smiles benevolently at them. “Well, good luck, fellas. If there's anything else I can help with before I take off, you just let me know.” Then he replaces his green hat, picks up the bow he carried in with him instead of a gun, and walks out.

“Well, then, you're coming with me.” Ted stands up and offers a hand up, and then tactfully doesn't say anything when Booster hangs on a little heavily when he hauls himself up. He's been running for a while. It makes sense. And Ted doesn't mind being needed, even if it's only just a little. He doesn't mind at all.



Ted's clothes are a bit too small for Booster, which makes sense because Ted is an inventor and Booster was until recently a prospector. Señor Reyes ends up lending him some pants, and they're still a bit too tight. Booster takes it well. Too well, really. He charms his way through town with an impressive ease and never once complains about chafing.

But eventually Ted catches him looking worriedly west, and after the next few times Ted reckons Booster's not saying everything about his run-in with the Royal Flush Gang. Ted resolves to get to the bottom of this, but then the Reyes invite them for lunch. Never one to miss out on Bianca Reyes' cooking, Ted postpones.



Booster is in the middle of an exciting tale of his exploits in California that's probably only half-true when three gunshots kill the conversation dead. Bianca places a hand on Milagro's shoulder. Booster, who had flinched at the sound, pushed back his seat and put a hand to his gun holster. Well, one of them. “Sorry,” he says, “Gotta run! Thanks, Mrs Reyes!” Then he's on his feet and running out the door.

“Idiot,” Ted mutters, and pushes back his own chair. “Sorry, folks, I think I have to go make sure he doesn't get his brains blown out.”

“Good luck!” Jaime calls after him. He's a great kid, Jaime is.

Out in the dusty street, Ted's fuzzy expectation of a standoff like in Kent's novels is disproven. Booster is running still, across the street, while a woman in shiny pants like she just left the circus fires bullets into the dust just behind his feet. “Nowhere to run, Michael Carter!” she shouts, and then grins like a madwoman. She probably is a madwoman. She's definitely not paying attention to Ted, because when he fires at her hand the bullet punches through, and she drops her gun and shrieks. “Who the hell are you?!”

“You tell me,” Ted says, and keeps his gun steady. Booster stops, and turns around with this hilariously bewildered expression.

“Beetle, what are you doing?”

Ted opens his mouth to reply, and then registers movement to his left. He looks back at the woman in shiny pants, but it's too late; she dodges his second shot and kicks her gun up into her hand. The sun beats down behind her, throwing her face into shadow, and then there's a searing pain tearing just past Ted's ribs, too far to the side to do damage (he hopes, oh god, he hopes) but with enough force to push him back. “Lesson for you,” the woman jeers. “Never turn your back on your enemy!”

Then there's a pause. Ted cautiously curls upright, both hands pressed against his side to stop bloodflow. The woman and Booster have come to something of a standstill, both with guns aiming at the other's head.

“You won't do it,” the woman says.

“You shot my friend,” Booster snaps, and he sounds dangerous. Hell, he barely knows Ted, but apparently that doesn't stop him from appreciating quality of character when he saw it. If Ted is smiling, it's because of natural painkillers or bloodloss.

“You killed my gang.”

“They were going to kill me.”

The woman shoots again. Ted shuts his eyes, afraid suddenly of what he's going to see. There's another few gunshots, a pained shout – Booster – and a high scream. His eyes fly open. Booster is still standing, one of his guns at his feet, hand clapped to the other arm and leaking blood. The woman is lying in the dust, breathing shallowly.

Ted can't make words happen for a moment. “You didn't...” he says finally.

“I hate killing people,” Booster says, soft enough that it could have been to himself. “It stopped being fun when they died.”

Ted sits up properly and tries to stand up without letting go of the hole in his side. After a moment, Booster notices and walks over, hauls him up. They stand there and bleed for a while.

“Uh... thanks,” Booster says eventually. “I owe you one.”

“I know a doctor,” Ted offers. “You can owe me one later.”



Booster is playing the the edge of his bandage, fraying it more and more. It shouldn't be annoying. It really, really is, though. But Ted's not about to go over there and grab his hand, for more reasons than just the awkwardness of it, so he's going to have to endure.

“So maybe I shouldn't have lied to them about where I found that gold,” Booster is saying, sounding only a little chagrined. “Or maybe I shouldn't have gambled the location of my windfall at all. Not my fault they cheated.”

“Booster, they're the Royal Flush Gang.”

“Were the Royal Flush Gang.”

Ted's not sure where he signed on to deal with this kind of unrepentant verbal abuse. He'd go demand a refund, except that Booster's his friend, so he's probably stuck with it.

(from boostlethon again)

He’d seen a fair bit of acclaim from Kent’s story. Least that’s what he gathered from the way folk regarded him these days; was right nice now. Not just the begrudged respect he got as their weapons supplier. Oh no, that lot of respect didn’t count for much but lying with a hefty sum of money on the side.

Now though, Ted Kord could tell they saw him as a hero. A Justice Rider, just like the legends told.

Sure, a good lot of the people prolly thought him still a bit sunstruck with his inventions and all. But a little respect went a long way in Windy City.

And so, it wasn’t much a surprise to him to be woken in the early hours of the morning with the heavy pounding of a knock on his shop door. Rubbing the sleep from his weary eyes, he wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and padded downstairs. Each step down to the shop creaked, the aged wood bending under his weight. He was about to flip the switch on his steam-powered gas lanterns to give the place some light when the knocking stopped and someone shouldered themselves through the door.

“Hello, the store!” A gruff, but familiar tone mumbled as their body impacted the floor.

“Howdy yourself, Booster Gold,” Ted replied.

He was just about to ask the gambler what business he had in these parts at this time of the night, and to demand that he fix his shop door back on its hinges. But all his words died right there on his lips as he flipped on the lanterns, the gears and steam puffing them to life, and Booster’s predicament made itself quite clear.

“Either you’ve decided my floors would look nice in red or you’re bleeding all over the place.”

Booster rasped out a laugh, reaching over and cradling his bloody arm. His entire shirt-sleeve was dyed red, as was part of his gold vest. “Yah. Just a might bit injured, if ya hadn’t noticed. Apparently the folk in Albuquerque don’t take too kindly to a fellow like me when they lose a bet and can’t pay up.”

“You’re gonna be losing more than a bet if we don’t get that tended to right quick. Now what in your crazy mind made you think that riding all the way here from Albuquerque like that was a smart idea?” Ted asked, as he started to rip up his sheet and make crude bandages from it.

He blinked up at the inventor. It was different seeing him like this, his trademark blue bow tie, collared shirt and suspenders traded in for a rumpled pair of pajamas. The ridiculous cap he always wore, antenna and all, was haphazardly tugged on his head though. If he hadn’t been in so much pain, he might have teased him right good about it; wearing such a thing as a nightcap.

Booster shifted and winced as his injury grazed the floor. “You’ll laugh, I know you will.”

“What? Doctor say he couldn’t help someone with your condition?” Ted teased, crouching down beside him and tying off another bandage.

Taking a deep and shuddering breath, Booster elucidated, “Now Beetle, I don’t want you to take this wrong-like. But, you see, I’m in a situation where a man really needs someone trustworthy, someone who won’t leave them out in the desert for the buzzards to do in just because they looked at ‘em funny.”

Ted pressed a hand to Booster’s forehead. “You must be badly hurt; you’re getting serious on me.”

Booster reached over feebly with his injured arm and clutched Ted’s hand with his bloody one. “Shootouts do funny things to people. ‘sides filling them full of holes, that is.”

“Yeah?”

“Like making ‘em realize they ain’t really got no one to call a friend in this lonesome world ‘cept some crazy inventor they met once.”

Ted wondered at first if he was teasing. Or was trying to win his favor, since by the sound of it, he’d not gone to a doctor because he’d lost all his money in a bet. But he didn’t even get the slightest chance to question the lone gambler before Booster’s eyes fell closed and his head dropped over against Ted’s arm.

Knowing his type was sure to have ridden hard through the night to reach Windy City, and hoping that blood loss and exhaustion were the least of Booster’s problems; the inventor lifted the blonde up into his arms and carried him towards his backroom. Beetle’s Machines and Weapons might not sound like it could do you for a medical treatment, but Ted was gonna give it his best damn go.

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

Booster woke up to the clatter of gears whirling, steam puffing, and the sound of someone humming. Cracking an eye open to catch a sight of what in the blazes he’d gotten himself into, he spotted a set of antennae, a blue cap, and a pair of goggles set on a wooden nightstand. As for himself, he was lying in a bed and his arm was throbbing in pain.

That’s right, I went to his place…

A wry smile tugged a bit at his lips as he remembered the circumstances that brought him here. How he’d been playing against some fellow named Jack. Been doing right fine until he swore he saw something funny go down; a slight of the hand and a switch of the cards. Then when he was asked to hand over the money Jack had won off of him, Booster found his saddle bags had been cleaned clear out. Even Skeets, his trusted horse, and a right smart horse at that, had seemed perplexed when he found the bags empty. Rotten lot of sandtrash, that's what they were. Played him right good.

Got chased out of town by the gang then, guns a blazing and leaving his arm aching with probably at least sixteen bullet wounds. And that was if he had been lucky. Skeets was hitched out front of the shop now, the last thing Booster had managed to do before crashing Beetle’s door in.

It was then, silly as it was given his current trust in the man, that Booster realized he didn’t even know Beetle’s real name. It was clearly a moniker, and he’d just…never asked during their short venture together before. Just about to speak up, ask him direct like what his name was, Booster felt a white-hot pain shoot down through his right arm.

“You still with me, Booster ole buddy?” Beetle asked. A chink of metal – brass, Booster thought – sounded from near his elbow.

Booster managed a groan in pain. He inclined his head up from where he laid, noticing that his bullet riddled arm was now covered in brass plates. Finally, found his voice. “Whatdya making me all shiny for?”

“Because it matches your shiny hair, of course.” Beetle smiled at him, his face smudged with dirt and grease. “Look, so I ain’t got any fancy doctoring supplies 'round here. If ya really want, I could leave all those lovely holes open to bleed, but I thought you’d prefer to be metal rather than a piece of Swiss cheese.”

“Right good deduction there, Beetle,” he replied, trying to sit himself upright using his good arm. But a firm hand pressed him back down.

“Nu-uh. Not yet Mister Gold. You’ve lost enough blood that you went and passed out for almost a full day. And I might not be any sort of doctor, but I know enough science to be telling you that lots of bed rest is in store for you. It’ll leave you quite woozy.” He finished off the plate he was securing to Booster’s forearm and stepped back with a pleased smile. “Wanna give it a try?”

Booster blinked. “Wha?”

“Your arm has been fitted with brass and gears to help your damaged elbow pivot. It’ll hurt a dreadful lot until those bullet holes heal up, but you’ve got yourself a working and now bullet-proof arm.”

Warily, Booster lifted up his arm. It was certainly heavier now, but he could still feel his flesh and blood beneath the metal encasement they’d been put in. Gears whirred as he slowly bent his elbow, and he managed to keep a smile (albeit a strained one) on his face as he extended his hand out to its creator.

“I honestly don’t know how I can ever repay you. ‘sides the fact that I’ve been robbed of my earnings and it’ll be hard luck to come by enough to even reimburse you for the metal on my ring finger.”

“I’m sure we can work something out,” Beetle said with a warm smile. He laughed then, rubbing a hand up through his hair. “Hate to sound like an oddball when I’m sure you’re in pain, but I’ve always wanted to make an arm like that. I put lots of hard work into, so don’t you go trash it first chance you get, okay?”

Distantly, Booster realized that this was the first time he’d seen the fellow without his cap on. He had reddish brown hair, he noted, and for some reason knowing that only made him smile wider.

“Shan’t ruin her then,” Booster assured him. He dropped his arm then, not used to the weight it now carried, and found that he’d trapped Beetle’s hand against the mattress with it.

Blue eyes met blue, and Booster blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “You got anything to eat ‘round here?”

Beetle frowned, tugged his hand free and threw up both his hands in the air. “Oh fine, I’ll scrounge something up. Ain’t got much around here. Inventors don’t eat, didn’t ya know?”

Booster let him get as far as the door before he hollered after him. “Hey Beetle?”

“Yeah?”

“Seems might rude of me to be asking now, but I feel like I oughta know. What’s your real name?”

A look of pleasant surprise crossed his features before the inventor replied, “Ted. Ted Kord.”

“Thanks, Ted,” Booster said, patting his metal arm. “All the thanks in the world to you, pardner.”

Ted beamed then, chuckling as he left to rustle up some food. “You’d best be, Mr. Gold. That’s my bed you’re sleeping in and the floor ain’t a comfort at all.”

>>47495

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

“Remind me again why I’m doing this?” Ted asked as two steady hands, one metal and one not, helped him get a grip on a colt pistol he’d given a small amp up.

Booster smiled at him. “Because during the last week it’s taken the Royal Flush Gang to hunt me down here, we’ve been getting on might nicely. I mean, I’m the first feller or lady ever to sleep in your bed ‘sides yourself. That’s gotta account for something, Beetle!”

Ted frowned, his cheeks pinking at the embarrassment that had surfaced a few days earlier. Booster had offered to go to the local inn and take a bed there, said he didn’t want to interfere with Ted’s nightlife by resting right where he was. It then came to light that due to his eccentric nature, Ted’s nightlife consisted of long nights in his workshop, alone. Booster had teased him mercilessly ever since.

“Booster, listen here. I’m about to go one on one with big Ace in showdown at noon. And why am I doing this here crazy thing? Well that would be because I’m acting as your proxy. Because I…” Ted paused in ranting as Booster reached up and pulled off his strange Intelligence Inducement Engine cap.

“It’s ‘cause I chose right in picking a friendly place to go to,” Booster said with a smile, ruffling Ted’s hair. “You’re my pardner now, Ted. And for better or worse, that’s why you insisted on taking my place even when I told you I’d fight my own battles. Well and on account the fact that you swore to tell my arm off metal bit by metal if I tried to fight the low down bastards myself.”

Ted huffed. “Ate my food, slept in my bed, still ain’t paid me a single penny for all the work I put into your arm…” He glanced up then, catching Booster’s eye, and cracked a bit of a smile. “Let’s just hope that against the Royal Flush Gang, I'll have the upper hand.”

Booster laughed, “Well, I can show you a bit of gun slinging. Still can’t believe you manage such a fancy store and aren’t a proficient gunslinger yourself.”

“Ain’t never needed to. Brains over brawns is my motto. Well, ‘cept in the case of the Steam Schooner II, but she’s all beauty.”

Rolling his eyes at Ted’s usual antics, Booster felt his lips tug upwards into a smile. He’d really grown fond of the inventor over the past few days, bad jokes and all. And well, clearly Ted had grown fond of him as well. Because putting aside the fact that Booster Gold could charm the pants off anyone he set his mind to, Booster just knew something between them had clicked. Even back during the short stint as the Justice Riders, they just made a right good team.

Resting his hands over Ted’s, he showed him the best way to hold the pistol for a quick draw. Told him how to read his opponent and what to do if the situation went pear shaped.

“Hey Booster…”

He glanced up at his name, their eyes meeting. “Yeah?”

“You’ll make sure I’m not late to my own funeral, right?”

“Now don’t talk like that. You’ve still got a life to lead, weird contraptions to keep me up at night tinkering on, and well…” Booster paused, his mind recalling the shocking discover that Ted spent his nights alone. “Wait a moment here. You ain’t never been kissed before, have ya?”

Ted glared. Then with a shift of his eyes elsewhere, he muttered. “It’s almost high noon isn’t it?”

Peering out his repaired-doorway to the empty town street, Ted could see tumbleweed blowing past in the wind. Sure enough, the Royal Flush Gang was standing at the end of the path. Big Ace looking large and intimidating as usual under his big white cowboy hat, Jack standing beside him polishing his gun, and the sharply dressed King and Queen relaxing on their horses.

Nearby, their lady lackey who Ted had only heard called Ten, was holding a gun at the mayor’s head. Windy City had a lot riding on this.

“This game has more at stake than just my life, Booster,” Ted murmured. He turned to face him, a nervous smile on his lips, “And I’m placing my bet on justice, what about you?”

Booster grinned. “I bet to win, Beetle. So…” he took his cowboy hat off the front counter and settled it onto Ted’s head, “of course I’m betting on you. Ted Kord, one of the legendary Justice Riders, bringing peace to Windy City.”

Ted took a deep breath and holstered his gun. “The cards might be against me, but I’ll hopefully not cash in my chips quite yet.”

He made a move to his door then, coming up short when a metal hand griped his wrist. Feeling his pulse quicken on the cool metal, he turned back, meeting Booster head on.

“Ted…”

He closed the small space betwixt them, kissing him quite powerful right on the lips. Ted tensed up at first, the cowboy hat atop his head getting pushed back and making to tumble off. But Booster’s hand crept up behind his neck, sliding the hat back on and pressing himself closer. Tongues danced and bodies pressed firm against one another. Ted’s mouth had that slight tinge of metal to it, from all his hours tinkering and Booster smiled into the kiss at that. And despite Ted being a tad inexperienced in the kissing department, he held quite his own against Booster. His hands ran up his metal-arm masterpiece, lingering where Booster’s shirt collar revealed the conjunction of metal and flesh. Then, without really thinking all too much on the matter, Ted ran his fingers up into Booster’s hair. The inventor took the slight hum of satisfaction at the movement as a right good sign, and he pulled the gambler closer ‘til nary a single gap betwixt them remained. They held tight up until the town clock started to strike high noon.

They parted at the first chime. Ted looking somewhat perplexed as Booster nervously rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry. Just figured it’d be dreadful sad if you died without ever getting kissed.”

Ted adjusted the cowboy hat, his blue eyes darting to the windows as the clock struck again. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Booster hugged him then, his voice rough in Ted’s ear over the sound of the chime. “I ain’t been nothing my whole life ‘til I rode with the Justice Riders, Beetle. But you, you’re quite something. Something right special, if you ask me. And I’m betting on you, Ted. Perhaps together we can make something of this little town yet.”

They stepped apart and exchanged a look then; an unspoken promise that this wouldn’t be the end, and that they’d have countless adventures together in the future.

“I thought you said you didn’t have any way of paying me, Booster. But that was some right fine Gold I got then and I think I’ll come back mining for more, if you don’t mind, pardner.”

Booster smiled, wide and bright. “Don’t mind if you do, pardner Consider it your own personal Gold rush.”

“Let’s hope I can strike it rich, then.” With a laugh and a grin, Ted pulled open his door. He walked out to the middle of the street, facing Ace with his trigger finger ready. All fell silent save some distant noise Ted couldn’t quite place.

Must be the wind a howling down in the canyon, he reasoned. Taking a deep breath, he tried his best to remember everything Booster had told him as he waited for the last toll of noon.

Finally it struck high noon, and the two drew their guns and fired. Ted thought he hit true, but the bullet grazed right off Ace’s shoulder. He quickly dodged as Ace shot at him, just missing a bullet meant for his heart.

“Hey there big feller. I don’t suppose we could settle this with something less likely to fill someone full of bullet holes, could we?”

Ace grunted and cocked his pistol.

“Didn’t think so. Guess I’ll have to follow suit,” Ted replied, cocking his pistol. Ace just stared at him blankly, clearly not following the joke.

Ted grinned. There was a right good distraction, if he did say so himself. Firing another shot and running towards his shop front, the inventor yelled out, “So Ace, what’s it like not playing with a full deck?”

Ace grunted again, firing two shots and just missing Beetle both times. It fell a tad silent, and once again Ted heard a sound outside the rustle of the tumbleweeds in the wind. He frowned.

“Booster, they’ve got an ace in the hole!” He yelled out.

Leaning South-side of the door, Booster blinked. It seemed at first like Ted was bluffing again, but there was something dreadful wrong about his tone. It just weren’t right.

That’s when he saw Ted shoot another bullet that just bounced right off Ace’s skin. Looking down to his own metal arm, Booster understood. Bullet proof. Meaning that feller’s got some mechanical magic working for him too.

He raced into the store, grabbing up two things right quick: Ted’s goggles and a wrench. Then with all the speed his still-healing body could afford him, he ran out onto the street in between the gunfighters.

Booster held up his metallic arm in the noonday sun, the gleam off the metal rending the whole gang blind for a moment. “Royal Flush Gang, you aren’t the only folk ‘round here with an ace up their sleeve.”

“No interference!” King shouted out.

Booster tossed Ted his goggles and wrench, the inventor snatching both effortlessly out of the air. “Then you need to lay all your cards on the table, King, because we’re calling your bluff!”

Pulling his goggles on tight and readjusting Booster's cowboy hat atop his head, Ted made a jump for the lumbering figure of Ace. Jamming his wrench into the juncture between his shoulder and neck, the tell-tale hiss of steam started to emit and the large man fell to his knees. A splatter of oil followed suit.

“You fellers picked the wrong person to set a steam-powered man against.”

Smudging oil across his face as he tried to wipe the residue from the steam off his goggles, Ted stared them down. Holding out his wrench with one hand and his pistol in the other, he yelled out.

“Your house of cards has fallen, Royal Flush Gang. Now you’d best fold quietly or I’ll personally see if you’re flesh or machine.”

Ten dropped her gun from the mayor, and the Queen and King reluctantly held up their hands. But that threat wasn’t quite enough to get Jack backing down. He snatched up his pistol and aimed true for Beetle’s heart. It would’ve struck too, had Booster not jumped betwixt them at the last moment, the bullet ricocheting off his arm.

“Not today, Jack. We hold all the aces now.” Booster said, holding his own pistol to Jack’s head.

Slowly, he held up his hands in defeat. And it was so that Royal Flush Gang finally came to justice that day in Windy City.

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

Several weeks passed and Booster found himself as healed up as he was ever going to be. Normally, he’d drift on to another town; find another saloon to gamble his nights away in. But not anymore. His heart belonged in Windy City. Plus he needed someone to maintain his shiny new arm.

There were two signs hanging proud on the front of Beetle’s store now. One reading quite plain “Beetle’s Machine’s and Weapons” and the other, “Blue and Gold: Heroes for Hire.”

And as news of the defeat of the Royal Flush Gang spread far and wide via Colonel Kent’s paper, it was the second of those that was earning them business these days. Even when a gold rush struck in Arizona, Ted decided he was right fine where he was. After all, according to Booster, Ted Kord owned the finest piece of Gold that you’d ever set eyes on.

Or so the legend says, that is.

(from poisonivory)

[1]


Booster had no blamed idea what he was doing.

He’d gone to Denver, all right. Turned out it was true that the suckers came in by the trainload. No one’d warned him he’d be one of them, though. This time he’d stopped before his last penny ran out. Maybe he was learning something. He doubted it, though.

He still couldn’t say for sure whether it was an angel or a devil that’d led him back to Diablo Wells. Maybe it was just the knowledge that since his mama’s death back in Natchez the one time he’d actually enjoyed himself was on that damn fool’s errand to Helldorado with a ragtag bunch of crazies.

And Diablo Wells was the closest thing to an address he had for any of them. He told himself that was the only reason he’d gone looking for the Beetle and not the Kid or Diana. Damn near believed it, too.

But Beetle’s Machines and Weapons was dark – well, darker than usual – and locked, and according to the gossip at the Alabama Rose, the Beetle hadn’t been seen since just after their trip to Helldorado. He’d gone East, they said, and no one could say for sure whether he’d be back. They weren’t likely to investigate too hard, neither; Beetle hadn’t made many friends with his fancy talk and his strange inventions and that “intelligence inducement engine” of his.

And so he’d wired Gardner at the Pinkerton agency. Just about used his last red cent to do it, too. Unless the Beetle had seriously gone to ground – and Booster couldn’t imagine why he would’ve – it’d be easy for the legendary Kid Baltimore to snoop around and find his whereabouts. He, ah, gently reminded Gardner in his wire that it wouldn’t do much for Kid Baltimore’s legend if word got out about him backing out of a firefight in Helldorado with his quarry in arm’s reach.

Word came back: “BEETLE IN CHICAGO STOP GRAND HOTEL STOP KEEP YOUR FOOL MOUTH SHUT STOP.”

And, in a surprisingly considerate gesture, a second telegram, right behind the first: “LORD DEAD STOP SHOT IN PRISON BREAK STOP THOUGHT YOU’D LIKE TO KNOW STOP.” Booster threw it in the fire and thought the world a better place.

Booster didn’t like Chicago. In the territories he was a well-dressed and exceptionally good-looking fish in drab waters, and whatever extra attention he got paid was of the flattering variety. In cities, though, more and more he was finding that people treated him like just another cowboy. Booster wasn’t accustomed to being just another anything.

‘Sides, the hustle and bustle of Chicago reminded him of home. That was a reminder he could do without.

The Grand Hotel was a sight fancier than Booster’d expected for an inventor who’d barely had two nickels to rub together a few months back. He made himself comfortable in the lobby – as comfortable as a body could get on horsehair, at least – and waited for the Beetle.

Three hours later there he was, still looking mad as a March hare, making the ladies hold whispered conferences behind their fans – Booster guessed mainly to the effect of “What is that on his head?” Booster slung himself up out of his chair, draped himself in the doorway to best dramatic effect, and tipped his hat over his eyes.

“You’re a hard man to find, Beetle,” he drawled as the Beetle passed him.

“Gold?” Booster tugged his hat brim and let Beetle see his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

Booster shrugged. “Oh, you know. This and that.” He looked away. “Some feller said something about ‘truth, justice, and the American way’ a while back. I got to thinking…sounds kind of interestin’, don’t it?”

Beetle raised an eyebrow behind the goggles and gave him a hard look. Booster did his level best not to fidget.

“Well.” Beetle smiled, and it was like daybreak. “I guess it does at that.”


[2]


The Beetle was crazy. Booster’d suspected it before, but now he was just about positive.

They were back in Diablo Wells again. Beetle’d used the money Colonel Kent’d paid him for the book – and Booster was on tenterhooks waiting for that little ditty to come out, make no mistake – to get the store running proper again. ‘Cept now the store was doing booming business, since Beetle spent most of his time in the back room clanging around with his inventions, and leaving Booster to handle the customers. And if there was anything Booster was good at, it was handling customers.

“Don’t you dare swindle them,” Beetle had told him the first time he’d put Booster behind the counter. “Sweet talk them, charm them, be the ingratiating devil you are, but don’t you dare do anything dishonest.”

Booster sniffed. “Why, Beetle. I’d be right offended if I knew what all you were talkin’ about.”

“Don’t play the fool with me, Gold,” Beetle said, waggling a finger in Booster’s face. “There’s a reason the Kid called you ‘grifter,’ and I don’t intend to have you live up to that name in my store.”

Booster spread his hands. “Honest as a preacher, Beetle. Hand to God.”

“Good.” Then Beetle’s mouth quirked. “Of course, that shouldn’t prevent you from being the best salesman possible, should it? After all,” he looked thoughtful, “it’s not dishonest to convince a customer he needs the best we’ve got and should pay top dollar for it, is it?”

Booster grinned back. This was his language. “Not last I heard.”

Beetle smiled – not the brilliant smile, but the wicked one that came out far more often. Booster suddenly realized that he was standing a sight closer to Beetle than one feller normally stood with another feller. “A sight” in this case meaning close enough to feel Beetle’s exhalations against his chin. His mouth went dry.

“Uh,” he started without any real notion as to how he was going to finish that sentence, when the bell above the door jingled, and his first customer came in. Beetle gave him an oblique smile, said “All yours, friend,” and disappeared into the back room.

And that was life in Diablo Wells for a spell. Booster rose early – a habit from back home on the farm – and left Beetle snoring in the little room they’d somehow fit two beds in. By the time he’d gotten the eggs frying and the coffee brewed, Beetle’d stagger out, pour himself a cup of coffee, and Booster would watch him drink it and turn into a human before his very eyes. Then Beetle’d thank him for breakfast, pretty as you please, and promise to make lunch in exchange. Booster would nod and go about his day of working the front of the store, charming his way into the hearts of the Diablo Wells citizenry and clearing the cobwebs from the cash register, while Beetle clanged around in the back room with his toys.

Most evenings found Booster making friends in the Alabama Rose, which was sore in need of a good gunman now that the Kid’d made tracks for Mexico. It wasn’t that Booster was a proper bouncer or anything like that, but after a couple good brawls he’d made it clear to any troublemakers that there wasn’t going to be any rough stuff in the Rose while Booster Gold was trying to enjoy a quiet drink. As Diablo Wells was, for the most part, a town that liked its quiet, Booster’s fists were appreciated, and Booster liked it well enough, drinking whiskey, flirting with a pretty little redheaded waitress named Trixie or Roxie or some such, and steering well clear of the card games. He wasn’t worried that any kind of violence he couldn’t handle would come up – the only real threat in the area was Farley Fleeter’s gang of Madmen, and they mainly stayed on the fringes of town, rustling cattle and picking off stagecoaches.

Maybe it was the complacency that got him thinking, but Booster found himself wondering sometimes what exactly being a clerk in a shop had to do with truth and justice. (He was pretty clear on the ‘American way’ bit.) He’d wanted money and respect; now he had plenty of the first and a fair bit of the second, but there was still something…wanting. He missed the satisfaction he hadn’t felt since Helldorado.

He’d tried to talk the matter over with the Beetle once, but – more fool him – he’d picked a time when the Beetle was in the middle of working out a problem in one of his blueprints.

“Sure we’re gonna do good,” Beetle’d said vaguely, waving a hand at him. “Hand me that wrench, would you? No, this is no good…this is no good at all. I need stronger couplings…” The thing he was tweaking at – Booster didn’t have a better word for it, ‘cept part of the new schooner – broke off in his hand, slicing a jagged line through the fleshy part of his palm, and Beetle erupted in a stream of French curses. At least they sounded like French, and given the expression on the Beetle’s face, Booster didn’t reckon they were endearments.

Beetle squared his shoulders and started to reattach the broken piece, heedless of the blood dripping from his hand. Booster rolled his eyes and yanked Beetle back. He was surprised to feel Beetle’s muscles tense under his hands, stronger than he’d’ve expected and almost like a fighting crouch – but surely the Beetle, man of science and afraid of his own shadow, wasn’t much of a fighter?

“Beetle, you damn fool,” Booster said, focusing on the matter at hand. He was a practical feller, after all. “Wrap your stupid hand up or you’re gonna bleed out all over your new toy.”

“Toy?” Beetle puffed himself up like an insulted hen as Booster rummaged through the chaos of the workshop for a decently clean rag. “I will have you know, sir, that this project is at the very heart of our mission.”

“We have a mission?” Booster asked, coming back with rag in hand. “First I’ve heard of it.”

“For justice,” Beetle clarified, letting Booster wrap his hand up. “Isn’t that why you said you tracked me down so diligently?”

Booster scowled, and tried to ignore the warm heavy weight of Beetle’s hand in his. “First of all, don’t let yourself get all flattered, now. I looked you up ‘cause it was convenient for me. I didn’t exactly go to the ends of the earth lookin’ for your sorry hide.” A lie, mostly. “Second of all, I signed on to work with you, not for you. Now I don’t like to make a fuss. I don’t ask your name or the real reason you wear that fool thing on your head, because I know it isn’t what you told me. I don’t ask how you knew all about Max Lord and his clockwork men back with Diana and the Riders. And I don’t tell tales out of school to all the people in this town who are just dyin’ to know what your mystery is.” He tied off the bandage, but didn’t let go of the Beetle’s hand. “But don’t think I don’t take notice, ‘friend.’ I’m the one made this shop a success when that register was good for nothing but dust ‘fore I came along, but I don’t see my name on that window. And if there’s gonna be any ‘justice’ done by the likes of you and me, I’d like to know about it sometime before you finish your contraption and like as not land us in another mess like Helldorado!”

Beetle was quiet for a long moment after Booster finished speaking his piece. Booster was highly conscious of the pulse beating under his fingers, just out of step with his own.

“The new schooner has advanced weapons capabilities,” Beetle said finally. “I’ve incorporated some of the same technology Lord used on his clockwork men, the ‘thinking’ technology, so that the schooner will be, for lack of a better word, ‘intelligent.’ There are other components to the plan, mostly having to do with handheld weapons for you and me, and I’d like to discuss strategy with you on a case-by-case basis, but the schooner is the lynchpin.” He smiled a little. “I’m thinking of calling it ‘the Bug’.”

The next morning Booster woke early, as usual, to find the bed across from him empty. He sat up, confused. It wasn’t as if he cared to watch Beetle sleep in the morning – much – but the Beetle was hardly an early riser.

The workroom was empty, though there was a pot of coffee on the stove. Booster poured himself a cup and walked into the front room, and there was Beetle, painting something on the window where the “Beetle’s” in “Beetle’s Machines and Weapons” had been.

He squinted at the backwards letters, which were almost done. “’Blue and Gold’?”

“Blue,” Beetle indicated himself with the dripping paintbrush, “and Gold,” and Booster. “Customers should know this shop’s a partnership, after all.”

Booster fought to keep the grin off his face. Failed, mostly. “You want some breakfast?” he asked.

The Beetle tipped an imaginary hat. “Much obliged, partner.”

just read both of those. absolute aces. the mechanical arm throwback was a stroke of goddamn brilliance.

i am going to draw and/or write some cowboy porn no, i think.

>>47497

[3]


Somehow Booster’d dragged the Beetle out of the shop and into the Alabama Rose. Beetle complained good-naturedly the whole way, and the parts of him Booster could see under the intelligence inducement engine turned pink when the whole place went silent at the sight of him, but after a quiet round at the bar the noise level was back to normal and Booster only noticed a darting glance here and there. For his part, Beetle pretended not to notice.

“See?” Booster said, throwing his arms wide. “Ain’t this nice? Joining the livin’ like you was a real live human bein’?”

“I’ll have you know that I have a great love of humanity,” Beetle said with a little smile.

“Oh, sure.” Booster grinned. “You’re about as sociable as a cactus, partner. But it ain’t working so well as you think.”

Beetle sipped his whiskey like it was a fine wine. “Oh, no?”

“No. ‘Cause I’m getting downright fond of you, Beetle.”

“I’m like a fungus,” Beetle offered by way of explanation. “I grow on people.”

“Or some kind of awful sickness.”

“Are you complimenting me or insulting me?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Beetle chuckled and flagged down the nearest waitress, Trixie’s cousin. Melody, if Booster wasn’t mistaken. “Excuse me, miss? Could we have another round, please?”

Melody gave him Trixie’s pretty smile. “Sure can, sir. Comin’ right up.”

That brilliant smile flared out, the rare one. “Thank you.” He watched her walk away. Booster scowled.

Suddenly the double-hinged doors burst open, clattering against the inner wall. Everyone jumped, and Booster caught a glimpse of pure terror in Beetle’s eyes before he turned towards the entrance of the Rose.

Farley Fleeter strolled in, five of his Madmen behind him. Everyone tensed, although Booster could’ve sworn he’d heard a sigh of relief from the Beetle. Like everything else Beetle did, it made no damned sense. In the weeks they’d been in Diablo Wells, the Madmen had made it clear that all they wanted was to cause as much trouble as possible, and their kind of trouble left a high body count in its wake.

“Fleeter.” It was Johnson, the owner of the Rose. “Thought I told you to keep your filthy hide out of my place.”

Fleeter smiled mockingly. “My boys and I just want a little drink, friend. Ain’t that right, boys?” His Madmen laughed and nodded.

“I don’t serve drinks to murderers,” Johnson said coolly. “And I ain’t your friend.”

Fleeter’s smile dimmed a notch, and he raised an eyebrow. “’Murderers,’ Johnson?” he asked. “You’d best watch what you’re callin’ a respectable group of fellers just wants a sociable drink. Them’s fighting words.”

“I’m only sayin’ what ever’one in here already knows,” Johnson replied. “T’ain’t no mystery to us who shot poor Frank Sullivan three nights back, like as if we seen it our own selves.” Fleeter’s face was sober now, or close enough to it as a lunatic could get. “Now you take yourself on out of here ‘fore I send for the sheriff.”

He’d misspoken, because Fleeter looked confident again. “I happen to know the sheriff is out chasin’ claim-jumpers at the moment,” Fleeter said smugly. “So I think I’ll have that drink after all.” And a body’d have to be crazy to keep walking into a saloon packed with men glaring daggers, but Fleeter and his boys weren’t called Madmen just for show.

Booster shifted and let his hand drop closer to the revolver strapped to his thigh, wondering if he could get in front of Beetle and Melody before any shooting started.

But Beetle, much to Booster’s surprise, stepped forward. “I believe you were asked to leave, sir.”

Fleeter blinked at the word “sir.” “Oh, well,” he drawled, the ever-present snigger beneath his words louder now. “If it isn’t the Prince of Wales, boys?” The Madmen laughed. Beetle didn’t flinch. “Now don’t you fret your little head, your highness…or that thing you’re wearin’ on top of it. And they call me mad.” Booster’s fingers jerked towards his revolver again, but Beetle was as unmoving as the land itself. “We just want a drink. We ain’t gonna make a fuss…less somebody makes it for us,” and the way his voice went down on the last sentence was markedly a threat. Booster wondered if he’d be able to shoot Fleeter without tagging Beetle by mistake.

“So you just move aside, your majesty, and we’ll go our merry way.” Fleeter made a sweeping gesture, indicating what Beetle could do with himself.

Beetle didn’t move.

It happened before Booster could blink, otherwise he would’ve filled the varmint with lead first without compunction. Fleeter hauled off and punched Beetle in the face.

The room went dead silent, save for the click as Booster’s revolver – when had it gotten into his hand? – was cocked. Beetle stayed doubled over for what felt like an unconscionably long time, hands to his face.

Then he straightened up, slowly, carefully adjusting the intelligence inducement engine back to its proper place. Booster caught a glimpse of Beetle’s bleeding lip, and – was that a smile?

It was. And Beetle’d never looked wickeder, not even the day they’d met.

“I was so hoping you’d do that,” Beetle said sweetly.

Then he kicked Fleeter in the teeth.

As Fleeter staggered back and fell, one of the Madmen hollered in surprise, and then next moment all five of them were on surging forward. The Beetle was everywhere at once, faster than thought, fists and feet and elbows colliding with the Madmen in staccato of oddly graceful movement. Booster spared a moment to stare in astonishment before cursing, holstering his revolver, and leaping into the fray.

He ducked under a Madman’s swing and socked him in the solar plexus as he straightened up. “Boy, Beetle, you’re just full of surprises, ain’t you?” he hollered over the din.

Beetle used a Madman’s forward charge to throw him over his shoulder and send him flying through the double doors. “Well, I do hate to be predictable.”

Booster turned so that a kick only caught a glancing blow to his side. “This gets through, we’re gonna have a little talk, you and I,” he wheezed.

The Beetle punched a Madman in the throat. “I look forward to it.”

Booster slugged the Madman coming at Beetle from behind, and just like that it was over. Fleeter and his boys lay half in, half out of the Rose, all either unconscious or groaning and in no fit state to keep fighting. Booster stared at Beetle, breathing heavily, confused beyond measure, and opened his mouth to say…he wasn’t sure what.

Then he realized that the roaring in his ears was cheering, and he and Beetle were hoisted up on the shoulders of the crowd, and someone was pressing a drink into his hands. Across the undulating sea of people he saw the surprised pleasure on the Beetle’s face, and as the player piano started up a rollicking tune and the people of Diablo Wells toasted their health Booster grinned fit to burst and wondered what he was worrying about anyway.

And it barely bothered him at all that for all he could recollect Fleeter’d never taken a swing after Beetle’s first kick, but lay there staring like a man who’d sold his soul to the devil years back and had just now remembered it was collection day.

The sun was half-risen by the time Beetle and Booster staggered their way back to the shop. Booster only managed to get his shirt half off before collapsing on his rickety bed and grinning foolishly up at the ceiling. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Beetle doggedly attacking his boots. Booster knew his own boots were a bit beyond his capabilities at this stage – and, judging by Beetle’s difficulties, Booster wasn’t alone.

“How’d you learn to fight like that?” Booster asked, dimly recalling that he’d been confused and upset by it, but now feeling mostly just curious.

“A friend taught me,” Beetle replied with a little hiccup. His voice was almost a drawl, the Eastern fanciness forgotten.

“How come you didn’t…” Booster made a vague gesture. Easier than words. “At Helldorado?”

“Didn’t need to,” Beetle said matter-of-factly. “M’better at other things. Helpin’ you with the…” he made a little finger gun, “…blowin’ up th’schooner, bang!”

Booster giggled. “You’re such a…”

“…charmin’ yet dangerous desperado?”

“…circus freak.”

“Oh.” One boot landed with a thump on the floorboards. “Really?”

“No, it’s just…” Words. Words were not Booster’s friends right now. “I can’t make you out, Beetle, not one bit. Most the time y’talk all uppity, big words and ‘cogito ergo sum’ and I don’t know what all. But sometimes you sound like a boy fresh off the territories. I don’t know nothin’ about your past, or how come all of a sudden you can fight like…like…I don’t even know what that was like. I don’t know…” He trailed off, suddenly exhausted. “Anythin’, really.”

“Well, I don’t know anythin’ about you either, Gold,” Beetle said, grunting as he tugged at the other boot. “’Cept that isn’t your real name.”

“How’d you…?”

“Come on, what kind of a name is ‘Booster’?” Beetle shrugged. “I’m not sayin’ you’ve got to tell me everythin’, or anythin’, point of fact. But if you don’t, why should I?”

The other boot hit the floor. Booster stared at it, and then he told him. He told the Beetle about his mother, and the fever that was going to take her slow and painful, and about the way he fleeced the town’s leading citizens to pay for her medical care and got run out of town on a rail for his pains. He told him about the telegram that reached him two weeks later – “MA DEAD STOP DON’T COME HOME STOP” – and the one three months after that – “SISTER MICHELLE DEAD STOP CAUGHT SAME FEVER STOP OUR CONDOLENCES STOP” – and how cold it was when the sun went out. He told the Beetle – because he couldn’t stop talking now – about just about everything that had happened to him since the day he was born, and then he stopped, and breathed, and said, “And my name’s Michael Carter, by the way.”

There was silence, so long Booster figured Beetle had fallen asleep.

“I was working for my uncle,” Beetle said finally, so suddenly that Booster jumped. “My mother died when I was a kid and my pa when I was seventeen, so Uncle Jarvis was about all I had. But I didn’t mind – I liked working on his clockwork engines, even if I didn’t know what they were for, and I was damn good at it, too. A sight better than Uncle Jarvis, leastaways. Wasn’t smart enough to see what Uncle was up to, but at least I could make machines.”

Beetle sighed, a gusty, hollow sound. “And then Maxwell Lord came along. And the two of them were as thick as thieves before you could say ‘How d’you do?’” Not…not just them.” His voice sounded thick. “Max and I were…friends, I guess you might call it. We…I’ve never known anyone like him. I never hope to again.”

Booster craned his head in the Beetle’s direction, but the windowless room was dark and Beetle’s features were indistinguishable.

“When…when I found out what they were up to, I…it was too late, it was horrible, but I…they…” Beetle took a shuddering breath. “I stopped them. My friend, the one who taught me how to…God, the one who taught me everything, Dan Gar – “

He stopped abruptly, but it was too late. Booster sat up straight, ignoring the way his head swam. “Dan Garrett? Colonel Garrett?” he asked. “The war hero?”

“Yeah.” Beetle’s voice was distant now. “He was father and friend and hero to me, and he…I…they killed him. Max and Jarvis, they killed him, they were going to do abominable things… So I stopped them. Max got away, but I stopped Uncle Jarvis. I…”

But Booster knew what he meant. “It ain’t such a bad thing, killing a man what deserves it,” he said as kindly as he could manage. “Preacher says you’ll burn, but I think you’ll burn hotter for standin’ aside and lettin’ a bad man live to do wrong. I’ve killed men myself, ones who had it comin’, and I sleep fine at night.”

“You ever kill your own flesh and blood?” Beetle asked.

Booster was quiet. “Like enough,” he said finally.

Suddenly there was a rustle across the room. “Excuse me a minute, I’ve got to go throw up,” Beetle said, and rushed out the door.

Booster lay there a long time, fighting off sleep in the interest of asking the Beetle a few more questions. There was a story connected to Colonel Garrett, a big one, but he couldn’t focus just now. If he could just ask Beetle…

But Beetle was gone a long time, and Booster still had too much whiskey in his blood for keeping watch, and sleep claimed him soon enough.

>>47497
>>47499

[4]


It was as hot as Hades that Sunday, and the store was dead. Beetle’d taken advantage of that fact and enlisted Booster to help with the heavy lifting on the schooner construction. But the air was stuffy and stale in the workroom despite the big windows – a rarity in the territories, but necessary ventilation for all the work Beetle did with chemicals – and Beetle was in one of his most mad scientist moods, and Booster was feeling downright persnickety.

He wiped sweat from his face with an ineffectual forearm, bare and sticky since he’d stripped to the waist over an hour ago, and scowled. “Ain’t we done yet, Beetle?” he asked petulantly. “I need a bath something fierce.”

Beetle looked annoyed. “Are we currently flying around in a thinking clockwork vehicle shaped like an insect?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then we’re not done.” He slipped a hand inside the intelligence inducement engine and wiped sweat from his forehead, then bent back over the stained and crumpled blueprints. “It doesn’t fit. Why the hell doesn’t it fit?” A fierce stare at the mismatched jugsaw of iron and steel that was refusing to become a schooner didn’t seem to help. “All right – we’ll try bringing this piece over here. If that doesn’t work…” Beetle tapped his foot impatiently. “Well, come on!”

Booster raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you ‘come on’ me, Beetle. I ain’t moving this oversized wind-up toy by my lonesome.”

Beetle let out an irritated snort, then threw himself against the piece in question. Booster put his back to the other side and between them they maneuvered the heavy sheet of metal into its new position.

Even Booster’s layman’s eyes could tell this was even worse. “Doesn’t look like we fixed it, Beetle.”

“Thank you for that observation, Gold.” Beetle tried to wipe the sweat out of his eyes and wiped his goggles instead. “Dammit.” He stuck his hand inside the intelligence inducement engine again. “It’s warped. Must be this blamed heat.”

“The intell – ?”

“The schooner, Gold. Pay attention.” Beetle kicked a nearby wrench, then swore and hopped a little in pain. “I’ll have to start up the forge again, which is going to make this whole place another twenty degrees hotter.”

Booster stared at him. “It’s gotta be a hundred ten today. The devil himself wouldn’t survive a forge on a day like this.”

“Which means I have to wait until it cools off, which might not be for another month.”

Booster spread his hands fatalistically, fighting his own rising temper at Beetle’s attitude. “Well, y’can’t change the weather. But you can make it a bit more comfortable. Come on, let’s go down to the swimmin’ hole. It’ll be quiet – everyone’s at church.” He forced a grin and gave Beetle a playful shove. “I promise not to dunk you.”

Beetle shoved him back, and there was nothing playful about it. Booster tripped over a few scraps of metal and nearly landed on his rear.

“Dammit, Gold, can’t you concentrate for a minute?” Beetle thundered. “Our whole plan has been derailed until God knows when and you’re hopping all over the place like a child at a circus!”

Booster’s fists clenched. “I don’t much like your tone, Beetle,” he said tightly. “I don’t recollect signin’ up to take orders or insults from you. And I ain’t eager for a fight but if you touch me again I’ll give you one.”

Beetle’s jaw set to match Booster’s, and for a moment Booster thought Beetle might actually take a swing at him, until suddenly Beetle seemed to deflate like the hot air balloon Booster’d once seen at a fair.

“Sorry,” Beetle muttered. “I…sorry. It’s…” He moved as if to wipe his forehead, encountered the intelligence inducement engine, and let out an exasperated breath. “Oh, this is idiotic,” he muttered, and gave Booster a discerning kind of look, the kind a man gives his poker companions before calling his bet. “I trust you.”

And he yanked the mask off.

Booster’d thought after the clockwork men he’d about used up all his surprise, but he found enough left in him to gape at the face on every Wanted poster from New York to California Territory. Posters’d made the infamous Ted Kord look a fair bit meaner, though. And you couldn’t tell from an artist’s sketch that the man’s eyes were blue, or that his hair was a shade of dark red Booster’d never clapped eyes on before.

All the stray wisps of memory Booster’d been trying to gather about Colonel Garrett came together in a flash. Ted Kord, the Colonel’s close friend, had gone crazy and blown him up – along with half a town. He was at large, was not to be approached, was considered armed and extremely dangerous.

He was – dammit! – Booster’s best friend. Only friend.

Those blue eyes, so angry a moment before, were as big and shy as a jackrabbit’s now, and Booster knew his face’d betrayed his recognition. Kord – Beetle – took a step towards Booster, spreading his hands, and Booster had a sudden recollection of Beetle throwing a Madman over his shoulder.

“It’s not true,” Beetle said. “What the papers said, what the law thinks – it’s all Max’s doing. I would never – I loved Dan Garrett, Booster. And my uncle, and Max – God help me, I loved them too. I…it’s not…” He moved his hands, a helpless gesture. “Dammit, I…”

Booster felt dizzy, probably from the infernal heat. Ted Kord was a notorious criminal. The Beetle was his partner – and, Booster couldn’t help noticing, had called him “Booster” for the first time in their acquaintance.

“Michael,” he said.

Beetle blinked. “What?”

“I – you were dead drunk when I told you my name. It’s Michael.” Booster pressed his fingers to his temples. “Michael Carter. I guessed you didn’t remember.”

“I remember everything,” Beetle said softly. Then, carefully, “Do – do you want me to call you Michael?”

Booster shook his head. “No, no, I just…I never told you my name ‘cept then, so…that’s it. But I’m Booster now.”

“Booster, then.” He was closer now, somehow had come closer without Booster realizing it. It should have scared Booster, because he’d seen Beetle fight, had seen Beetle throw a Madman over his shoulder, but though he could feel his breath coming short and fast, it wasn’t from fear.

“If.” Beetle stopped. “If you’re going to leave, don’t…I won’t try to stop you, or find you, or…but don’t give me away.” Booster could’ve touched him just by shifting his weight. “Please.”

If he was going to leave? But – I trust you – and after all Booster was a gambling man and a gambling man was at all times crazy enough to risk his whole caboodle and right stupid besides, and so he grabbed Beetle by the shirtfront and shoved him against the schooner next to them and kissed him, fierce and anguished.

Beetle’s mouth fell open in surprise and Booster took advantage, making the best he could out of the moment before Beetle came to his senses and killed him. He pressed against Beetle’s taut, quaking frame, noted the taste of stale coffee and the way Beetle’s lips and tongue and cheek burned against his in the scorching summer heat. If this was going to be his last moment with Beetle, or his last moment on earth – and right now they were inseparable things – he was sure as hell going to remember every detail as long as memory lasted.

When Booster pulled back Beetle kept his eyes closed and his head resting against the sun-warmed metal of the schooner. Booster watched him struggle to regain his breath, trying and failing to convince his fingers to release Beetle’s shirt.

“Well,” Beetle said finally, and he sounded as Western and unraveled as he did when he was drunk. It made Booster’s throat catch. “It’s about damn time.”

He opened his eyes and smiled – the brilliant smile, bright as the sun. Booster tried to shoot him one back, but clearly Beetle had other plans for Booster’s mouth, because he tugged Booster’s head down and wrapped his arms around Booster’s neck and if kissing a surprised Beetle had been nice, kissing a happy Beetle was about a dozen kinds of wonderful.

Booster fisted his hands in Beetle’s shirt and pressed in further though there was no room to do so; Beetle’s buttons would leave a line of red circles on his chest but that didn’t matter a lick. He felt blunt fingernails scraping his back, the brush of stubble against his chin and realized Jesus, he was kissing a man, and it wasn’t like he’d never thought about it, but thinking wasn’t doing. The fellows had joked about it and Booster had laughed, but he’d never given the matter serious consideration – and with Beetle arching up against him and licking along the line of his jaw Booster knew that this wasn’t the time to consider anything seriously, and as Beetle moved to his throat Booster figured there’d never be a time to consider it seriously, not when there were so many better things to do.

“Beetle,” he said, and let his hips roll forward, just a little.

“Ted, it’s Ted,” Beetle said, made a funny little growl, and kissed Booster’s chin.

“Ted,” and Booster wanted to say it again immediately, and did. “Ted. Christ.”

Beetle - Ted laughed breathlessly. “Not quite.” He cut off Booster’s reply with a kiss, so Booster decided to occupy himself with unbuttoning Ted’s shirt instead. He got almost halfway down before growing impatient and yanking the shirt open. A couple of buttons made dull metallic thunks as they bounced off various machinery, but Ted just laughed against Booster’s mouth and shrugged the shirt off the rest of the way.

And oh, Ted was hard and hairy and rough and it was nothing remotely like being with a woman and Booster, always a fan of variety, cursed his previous narrow-minded thinking and made a solemn vow to never not have sex again.

Booster’s pants were getting uncomfortably tight, and he blessed Ted’s intuitive genius as hasty fingers unfastened the fly and shoved Booster’s trousers down around his thighs. His unmentionables followed suit and there was Ted’s hand, wrapped around his dick, firm and insistent. Booster groaned and fumbled with Ted’s belt buckle even more desperately.

Ted smiled against Booster’s neck. “Not much for doin’ two things at once, are we?” He brushed Booster’s fingers aside with the hand that wasn’t stroking Booster’s cock and started to unbuckle the belt himself.

Booster snorted. “Not my fault you – mrph – invented yourself a clockwork belt in case some rovin’ bandit tries to steal your pants.”

“Well, I like my pants.” The belt fell open.

Booster yanked the fly open. “I’m hatin’ ‘em real bad right now myself,” he admitted. “I think the sooner we get rid of ‘em the better, point of fact.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Ted let go – to Booster’s great disappointment – to wriggle out of his pants and drawers. Booster took the opportunity to shuck his trousers off the rest of the way and attempt to catch his breath. He failed, mostly.

Naked, Ted turned to face Booster. Booster only had a minute to admire the view before Ted tackled him to the floor. Booster let out a yelp like a wounded coyote as he landed on a couple of scattered parts; then Ted’s hips moved and he forgot everything else. Ted’s cock dragged across Booster’s, slick and hot, legs tangled and hipbones hitting hard enough to bruise, and Ted, predictably enough, spouting a million words a minute. “Booster, oh God, nng – yesyesyes, that’s – Booster!”

Booster shivered, groaned, and rolled them over, pinning Ted beneath him. Ted’s eyes were huge, a sliver around the blown pupils as blue as the sky at twilight, and his hair was damp and matted to his forehead. Spots of color burned feverish in his cheeks and throat and, Booster was sure he’d see if he could spare a glance downwards, his belly and thighs, but Booster couldn’t pull back far enough to see, couldn’t do anything but rock his hips forward into Ted’s.

“Ted, Ted,” Booster groaned over the tumble of words from Ted’s mouth, and bit Ted’s collarbone.

“…wanted you, always wanted you,” Ted was saying, “wanted to touch you, fuck you, minute you walked into my store, God, Booster.” He licked at Booster’s mouth, dug his fingers into the shifting muscles on Booster’s back. “Mmprh – please, yes, Booster, so gorgeous, beautiful, yes – nng – yes, please.” The words blended into nonsense in Booster’s ears, babble he couldn’t begin to sort out but in the warm familiar cadence of Ted’s voice, a little rougher and faster than usual but Ted. Syllables, sometimes even words, shot into focus as he rushed by them the way a fencepost suddenly sharpened from a vague blur to something you could see as your train churned by; Booster caught “more” and “sweet” and something he would’ve sworn was “love” if it wasn’t Ted and it wasn’t him and it couldn’t possibly be.

Leastaways he was pretty sure it couldn’t.

The few words Booster could make out were dissolving into keening and as he rocked down and haphazardly kissed any skin he could reach Ted arched like a bowstring and came, a warm wet rush against Booster’s stomach. It made everything slicker, hotter, better, and Booster slid faster across the hard muscles of Ted’s stomach as Ted fought for breath and mumbled nonsense to him.

He felt Ted’s hand slip between their bodies. “Booster,” Ted murmured for the uncountable time, his voice drawn ragged over hitching breath, and kissed Booster’s throat. His thumb brushed the head of Booster’s cock and that was it, Booster was gone, a flare of starbursts going off in his brain like gunshots or fireworks, and through it all all he knew was that he could still hear Ted’s voice saying his name over and over again, as desperate and erratic as the beating of his own heart.

>>47497
>>47499
>>47501

[5]


Farley Fleeter and his Madmen were sure as shooting surprised when a giant steel-and-iron insect came rocketing out of the wild blue yonder. Booster could tell because some of them fell over.

“Yeeeeeeeehaw!” he yelled against the onrushing wind. “Run, you yellow-bellied rattlesnakes! You won’t run far!” As if to prove his point, he fired a line of bullets into the dust just ahead of Farley’s feet. Farley, in a panic already, let himself be herded along with the rest of his Madmen back to their campfire, where they stared so hard Booster reckoned he could see the whites of their eyes from where he stood.

He didn’t blame them for staring, not one bit. The Bug looked damned foolish on the ground, but she was beautiful in the air, all blue and silver and pointy bits. Her body was round, a hollowed-out egg with two seats and all sorts of engines Booster didn’t understand churning beneath. Two machine guns thrust out from the bow, above pinchers that could be operated from within; wings shot out from her sides to slow their descent, her six sturdy little legs folded into her underbelly when she flew, and every bit of available space that wasn’t devoted to the job of flight was tricked out with all sorts of fun surprises.

Ted used one of those surprises now, a voice magnifier. “Throw down your guns,” he said into a tube, and it boomed out like thunder above the Madmen’s heads. There was a clatter as six-shooters hit the dirt like a prairie hailstorm. “Now walk towards that boulder to the east.”

When he’d judged the Madmen were far enough from their weapons, Ted gave the command to stop, then had the Madmen kneel on the ground with their hands clasped behind their heads. Booster kept the guns trained on them as Ted landed the Bug with a soft thwump on the ground and got out. Once Ted had drawn his pistol, Booster relaxed his vigilance and joined Ted outside, after first grabbing a bundle of Ted’s homemade springloaded handcuffs.

“I’ll cuff ‘em,” he said, nodding towards their prisoners. “You stand guard.”

“All right.”

Booster waded into the Madmen and began cuffing their wrists together, perhaps with a little more roughness than absolutely necessary.

“Gentlemen,” Ted said, keeping his pistols trained on the crowd. “Here in the territories, the law is perhaps not as efficacious as it is in our fair cities to the East. However, I can assure you that where the official forces end, my companion and I begin.”

“Oh, shut up,” one Madman groaned. Booster kicked him, and he took his own advice.

Ted eyed his audience, and Booster cuffed a sixth Madman. Five to go, and the next one to cuff was Fleeter himself. “As I was saying, I wish you to ruminate upon this as you await trial – “

“If I’m goin’ on trial, I’m doin’ it for killin’ you!” Fleeter drew something that flashed in the sunlight from his boot and thrust it at Booster. Booster twisted away from it, and felt a hot line of pain shoot across his ribs. As he clapped a hand to his side, Fleeter snatched a pistol from Booster’s holster and fired at Ted.

“No!” Booster yelled, and kicked at Fleeter’s wrist. Fleeter released his hold on the gun and Booster grabbed it and shoved the barrel under Fleeter’s chin.

Bang!

Booster and Fleeter froze. The Madman who’d been about to plunge Fleeter’s abandoned knife between Booster’s ribs swayed on his feet, then fell backwards to land with a thud on the ground, stone dead.

Ted leveled the still-smoking gun at Fleeter, and you’d have to know him very well to see that he was about three shades paler than normal under the intelligence inducement engine. “I believe I said we are not the official forces. Our death sentences are carried out much more quickly.”

“Go ahead,” Fleeter spat. “Shoot me. I’d rather go down fighting than swing for you, Lord.”

Ted started violently, and Booster’s pistol jerked under Fleeter’s chin.

“Thought I didn’t know you under that mask?” Fleeter laughed bitterly. “I know that kick of yours that knocked out my tooth a year back. And I knew you couldn’t be dead. Fool papers out here ain’t more’n gossip and rumors. When you lit out of here even a madman could see you was leaving poor ol’ Farley Fleeter to take the fall for you.” Ted’s face was bloodless. “Well, I ain’t hanging for your crimes, Max Lord. You’d like to pin everything from Paradise to Colonel Garrett on someone, but I ain’t your man.”

Ted sat down hard in the dirt.

Booster swore, and knocked Fleeter out with the butt of the gun.

Somehow they got the Madmen back into town and locked up in the jail. Somehow they escaped the crowd eager to congratulate them and drink their health. Somehow Booster refrained from touching Ted until they were back on the flatlands, far from town and, it seemed, within walking distance of the setting sun.

Then his fingers brushed Ted’s hand, his shoulder, his cheek, uncertain and afraid. Ted stared into the distance.

“Ted?”

“He thought I was Max, Booster. He thought I was…”

“Ted.”

“How could he…I’m not…I wouldn’t…”

“Ted.”

“What?”

Booster grabbed Ted by the shoulders and managed – just – not to shake him like a kitten. “He knows about Garrett, Ted.”

Ted was still drowning in his own horror. “I know, Booster, it’s…”

“Ted, you can clear your name.”

For a moment Ted waved under Booster’s hands; then Ted was in Booster’s arms, shaking, his forehead burning feverishly against Booster’s throat.

“Oh God,” he whispered brokenly. “Oh God, oh God, oh God.”

Then he looked up, and his eyes were bright and fearless.

“I’m free.”

The intelligence inducement engine hit the dust. “I’m free!” Ted crowed again, kissed Booster, and turned a cartwheel. “No more mask, no more hiding, just you and me and…and…”

“Truth, justice, and the American way?” Booster suggested.

“Yes! That!” He stood for a moment, ruddy and flushed in the fading light, and suddenly Booster wanted to weep, though he wasn’t one bit sad.

He’d never known why he wanted to follow Diana Prince. The idea’d struck him, the way ideas did, and suddenly he was leaping through hoops to go risk his life for strangers. And there’d been flying men and metal men and men from outer space and more times than he could count Booster’d wondered just what the hell was wrong with him that made him sign up for this plumb crazy outfit.

He still didn’t know why he’d done it, but he was damn glad he had.

“Come on,” he said to Ted, picking up the intelligent inducement engine. “Let’s go clear your name.”

“Though,” he said as he climbed into the Bug, Ted close at his heels, “I don’t rightly know what we’ll do to top it. What’ll we do after you’re clear?”

“Don’t you know?” asked Ted, sitting down beside him, and his smile was like daybreak. “We’re going to save the world.”

>>47489
Holy shit that file name....God, I love you so much. Bear my children

(from me)

There were many things that the residents of Diablo Wells accepted and have come to expect from other residents of Diablo Wells. Such as Fleeter and his Madmen stirring up trouble outside of town, Miss Lance blowing out the windows of the church during praise every Sunday and explosions and the like coming out of Beetle’s Machines and Weapons shop. Which was why the customer and clerk in the front of the shop casually finished up their transaction before the customer left and the clerk meandered his way to the back to make sure his business partner just blew up a project and not his fool self.

An outcome Booster Gold didn’t expect from an explosion was to find Beetle wrapped in rope and coils and he didn’t know what all, arms stretched up over his head and suspended just high enough from some odd-shaped schooner that his heels were coming off the floor.

Booster gave a low whistle. “Well now,” he drawled, thumbs hooked into the waist of his pants, “this is new.”

“Mr. Gold, I’d be much appreciative if you’d kindly detangled me.”

“Detangle? Can’t a man enjoy the view for a spell?”

Beetle was probably glaring- it was hard to tell with the black powder that coated his goggles. “I’m sure the view isn’t that interesting.”

“You see what I do, you’d figure different.”

The inventor shifted his weight back, trying to pull his arms free. The rope just tightened and, Booster couldn’t help noting, a triangle of pale skin was peeking out from where Beetle’s dirty shirt was being pulled from his trousers.

“Wouldya just get over here and help, Gold?” Frustration (as much about Booster’s lack of moving as like Beetle’s own immobility) was straining Beetle’s words with his dormant territories accent and Booster found he rather liked hearing the struggle of the other man trying to keep his big-city Eastern speech and failing. It reminded him of hands and heat and slick from countless nights doing things they never talked about but kept doing anyway. “We both got more important things to be doing.”

Booster had to concede that point and crossed over in a few quick strides, bringing his arms up. But, instead of going to free Beetle, they went up to pull that ridiculous intelligence inducement engine from his head. It revealed tousled, sweat-curled auburn hair, strikingly blue, exasperated eyes and a disgruntled pout. Booster grinned in return, finding Beetle far more handsome than darkness and moonlight suggested. He wondered if Beetle, lost in the throes of passion, would be even more addicting to watch in the midday sun.

“Gold,” Beetle’s voice was unsteady as Booster moved in, pressing his nose against Beetle’s hair and just taking in the scent of black powder, leather, heat and sweat, of metal and chemicals and coffee. A bead of sweat made its way down Beetle’s temple and Booster’s lips pressed against it, then they brushed against skin until he came to Beetle’s ear where he nipped at the lobe, suckling on it lightly. “Booster,” Beetle sighed and turned his head, giving Booster better access to his ear, his neck and anything else Booster decided he wanted to put his lips to.

They really needed to talk about this thing between them. Just... not right now.

Nimble fingers popped the buttons of Beetle’s shirt, one after another in quick precession, shoving it as open as possible, what with the ropes that looped around Beetle’s torso. Booster didn’t let it deter him none, ducking his head to place open-mouthed kisses to the skin he could get to, letting his palms skim over the wrinkled shirt and feeling the warmth and solidness of Beetle’s body where he couldn’t.

“Booster,” Beetle said in a voice like a sigh, body arching as he tried to push into Booster’s hands and out of his binds, “nrr, wanna feel you.”

“I’m thinking we try somethin’ a little... different.” Booster straightened, letting his lips move against Beetle’s. “You’re one of them scientist types, ain’t ya? Don’t you like exper’ment’n?”

Beetle tilted his head and gave the other man a sweet little kiss that felt far more real, like a jolt going down Booster’s back, than any other kiss they had by simple virtue of it being daylight still. “What did you have in mind, pardner?”

He’d never heard ‘partner’ said like that before. Like something wonderfully sordid and everything grand in the world. “You’ll like it,” Booster said between the kisses he trailed down Beetle’s chest, “I guarantee.” His hands drifted over the body laid out so temptingly before him, fingers hot over skin that trembled in anticipation, down a stomach surprisingly flat and strong for a man that spent all his time tinkering with machines. Everywhere his hands went, Booster kissed after until he was kneeling before Beetle who tried to hold back whimpers and shivers.

Booster nuzzled at the straining material of Beetle’s trousers, breathing in the scent of want and his own arousal flared from deep in his belly, shooting through his body until the only thing Booster was aware of, the only thing the matter was Beetle and all the things Booster could do to him. He mouthed at the bulge, teeth grazing the material, tongue flickering out until the spot was damp and Beetle bucked against him with breathy moans.

It took a bit more focus and steady fingers than Booster was, at that moment, capable of, but he eventually opened the front of Beetle’s britches, pulling them down until a loop of coil snagged them. Which, really, just made Beetle look all sorts of illicitly beautiful half dressed like that and Booster didn’t want anything in the world half as much as Beetle, just like that. Helpless, hard and begging to be touched. Tasted. Used in anyway Booster could think of. Booster dropped a hand, stroking at his own bulge as he took his first lick along the side of Beetle’s cock, then closed his lips over it.

The contours he knew by hand in the frantic desperation of night felt both foreign and perfect against his tongue and Booster sucked hard, lapping at the salty pre-cum beading from Beetle’s slit. He bobbed his head, taking in more of Beetle a little each time until his lips brushed against his fist. Booster pulled back, getting a protesting whine from Beetle which turned into a shudder and groan as Booster licked long stripes over his dick. Working his lips and tongue over ruddy skin, Booster peered up at the man above him. Beetle’s head hung low, occasionally rolling to the side whenever Booster found a particularly sensitive spot. His cheeks were a feverish flush, eyes shut, forehead creased and little begging sounds spilling from parted lips shining wet by a tongue continually running over them, mimicking how Booster’s moved over him. Beetle’s hands were fisted around the ropes and Booster squeezed the base of Beetle’s cock, wanting to see him unravel. Booster’s free hand stopped stroking at the front his trousers and popped the clasp open, taking his painfully hard erection in hand.

“You are a right impressive sight,” Booster mumbled into the circumcision scar below the head of Beetle’s cock, kissing his way down the length and sucking at the taut skin of his balls. “I could look at you all day, all disheveled and undone like this.”

>>47505

Aaaaaand that's the last of the Justice Riders I got.
---

“I hope you’d do more’n just look,” Beetle chuckled breathlessly, eyes opening just enough to meet Booster’s and it was like looking into the embodiment of sex, how dark they were with arousal and want and Booster didn’t think Beetle had any right to look like anything but that for the rest of their lives.

“I reckon I can,” he breathed out, then closed his lips over Beetle’s erection again and took him in. All the way. The move surely surprised Beetle who gave a choked-off cry, hips snapping forward, as if he could drive into Booster’s mouth any further than he already was. Booster pulled back slowly, sucking hard every inch of the way and Beetle sobbed when the heat and wet left him.

“Again,” he gasped raggedly, body tight and straining against Booster’s hand. “God, do that again. Please, Booster, I’ll do anything just- ngggh, yes! S-So good, so wonderful- Booster, you’re everything, please don’t ever stop, just like that, God yes!”

Let it never be said that Booster ever turned down a request when asked so prettily like that. He bobbed his head, lips wet with spit and come and his jaw was probably going to be sore as all hell, but he didn’t give a damn at that moment because Beetle’s hips were snapping forward and Booster’s fingers were digging into the man’s thighs and behind. Booster jerked himself raggedly, addicted to Beetle’s taste and the words that tumbled so raggedly from his lips.

He jumped at the feel of a weight against his head and Booster’s eyes fluttered upward. Beetle had managed to pull his arms free, burying his fingers in Booster’s hair, expression wild and intense and Booster found himself being happily carried away as Beetle took over the pace. His hips pistoned into Booster’s mouth, hands pulling at his head. It was like the frantic rutting they sometimes did late at night or when Booster’s body needed something more than just his hand. Beetle was fucking his mouth and Booster couldn’t help his little moans, panting against Beetle’s dick and sucking hard, anything to keep the steady stream of, “Yes, oh God Booster- yes!” filling the room.

Beetle’s taste filled his mouth as he shouted Booster’s name, hands clenched almost painfully tight in thick blonde hair. Booster’s hand pressed against a quaking thigh, squeezing and rubbing it soothingly, Beetle’s dick softening in his mouth and Booster was somehow a little reluctant as he pulled off. A hand cupped at Booster’s cheek, fingers combing through his hair, gentle and possessive against his skin and Booster couldn’t help but look up and meet Beetle’s eyes. He was happily spent and distractingly disheveled and his eyes held something that might’ve possibly been devotion but completely made Booster come in his hand, pressing his forehead against Beetle’s hip and spilling wave after wave on the dusty floor.

They stayed like that until their hearts stopped racing and their breathing evened out. Booster tucked himself back in his trousers and placed a fond kiss just below Beetle’s navel before straightening his britches as well. Booster stood slowly, legs aching just a bit and he pulled a handkerchief from a pocket, wiping off his hand. Beetle’s hands drifted down from petting his hair and Booster found himself missing them already. They stood, just looking at each other for a moment.

“So...”

“Yeah....”

Then, because Booster was never very good at ignoring little whimsical urges, he leaned in and kissed Beetle. It was a right, proper kiss- or would have been if one of them were a woman and if Beetle hadn’t opened his mouth and turned it into something that made Booster step in, pressed body to body, his arms holding Beetle tight and Beetle’s hands back in his hair as if it were possible for Booster to ever wanted to stop kissing him. They could feel their bodies thrumming again, responding to each other, wanting to see just how far they were willing to go.

The rope that Booster had once thought was about the greatest thing ever was now hindering his attempts to palm his way under Beetle’s shirt and he broke from the kiss enough to growl, “I really need to get you outta this.”

“I can do that,” the other man mumbled in between the kisses he ran over Booster’s jaw and down his neck. “You close up the shop and meet me upstairs. And loose the clothes.”

Booster’s eyes rolled back and he shuddered, his reawakening erection only helped along by Beetle sucking at his neck. “Yer makin’ it right hard to go away, just so’s you know.”

“You’re being here is making it hard for me to stop.”

Booster ducked his head, capturing Beetle in another kiss and sucking on his lower lip. “Okay,” he breathed, “okay, okay, ‘m goin’.” He backed up out of Beetle’s reach, the sound of some metal plates jostling against his knees drawing Booster’s attention. Not that looking at him made it much easier, because Beetle looked for all the world like he really needed Booster pressed against him again.

A coil of rope detangled and dropped to the ground and Booster had to wonder at Beetle’s brainpower that could let him unbind himself while partaking in activities that made Booster’s awareness of the world go on vacation. Then he wondered what it would be like when he had all of Beetle’s attention on him, instead of trying to untie himself.

“I want you in bed and naked in two minutes,” Booster warned before literally running into the shop proper to lock the door. So maybe they still weren’t talking about it, but considering what they were doing instead? Booster was absolutely okay with that.

>>47395
That theory does indeed make sense. Also, why would they mention specifically that Booster died and not Teddi?
>>47386
Well, I picture Teddi splurging on comfort food after Booster died so she's probably chubby. Also she might also have the heart condition, so she was too stricken with grief to continue fighting on. Until she meets Booster and snaps out of her funk, marries him somehow without the Monitors knowing, and makes Rip.

I also have a theory that Michael and Michelle's names are switched(So Michelle becomes Booster and Michael becomes Goldstar if he's saved.)

I also have a horrible plotbunny where...um...it involves a possible Mary-Sue but makes the Rip family more awesome...

>>47507
Mary-Sues are always bad. Always.

>>47511
Good. I'll restrict her to my mind then.

>>47489
I'm always distracted by Ted's wonderful body hair. I seriously love how you draw body hair Insomniac. I would kill for some shirtless Ted being wonderfully body haired...hnghhh.

>>47531
Then I'll surely do that next! Anything in particular you want shirtless Ted to be doing/having done to him/etc?

in the interim, i'm a little drunk and thus this is messy, but it's got cowboys!

>>47536
Make a terrible bear joke. Just the worst possible bear joke you can think of coming out of Booster's mouth. Or Guy's.

>>47537
so would you say he's a teddy bear?

>>47538
GLORIOUS.

I'm laughing hysterically right now oh my god

Dammit- I don't even have the excuse of being drunk to explain this asshatery.

>>47552
All he needs now is the raining cloud on his stomach.

>>47531
remember, it's Totally Not Gay to check out the other justice league dudes between missions.

>>47554

And it's Not Gay to look at your best friend, who is a handsome blond man with a fine golden complexion, and think golden cream-filled tasty goodness. :D

>>47561
You sir, need to brush up on your gay slang.

>>47554

...I want to see them showering together. I kinda have a thing for wet guys.

Or if you did want to draw more cowboys, Booster giving tied-up Ted a blowjob from idiosyn's story because guh.

>>47567
...would you believe i'm actually working on the tied-up blowjob already?
(of course you would, it's me)

>>47386
>Chubby Teddi
FFFFFFF-

The BWAHAHAuthority, Part 2 - http://scans-daily.dreamwidth.org/2089037.html?#cutid1

Authority members with personalities based on the JLI fight bad guys based on the JLI. Who was crazy enough to let J.M. DeMatteis and Keith Giffen near these guys in the first place? (Not that I'm complaining. Definetly not complaining. They should let DeM and Giff parody everything.)

>>47568
beh. did not do this, if you'll pardon the phrase, justice. too tired right now to continue.

showering people coming soon. also: some writeporn is in the works.

>>47577

I'm happy. Ted looks good tied up like that and damn, Booster can deepthroat like a pro.

Promises of showering and writeporn don't hurt either.

3Beetles1Punch.

"IT’S THE BLUE BEETLE CORPS!" Awww!

http://wwtkd.tumblr.com/post/752538721/its-the-blue-beetle-corps

>>47577

Dude- it's got Ted tied up and Booster going down on him. It is AMAZING. (also- totally glee-hee-heeing over the filename)

>>47584

I love that page, and not just because Ted manages to out-adorable Jaime.

>>47577
I love how good at cocknomming you make Booster. <3

Since Teddy-bear has been on my mind since last night, I woke up and did this in one straight shot. And now I shall finally brush my teeth (bleh).
---

Locker room etiquette was something Ted considered himself a pro at (if that was ever a thing one would ever claim pro-dome at). Granted it was mainly because he was chronically self-conscious of his body since childhood, but Ted had developed the act of not-looking-at-any-other-guy-changing-therefore-they-can’t-see-me-either into an art and it worked well for him throughout his life. Even when he actually had a body that made other men jealous.

It seemed that locker room etiquette was different in the future because Booster (who Ted tried to change without as often as possible because the man was shameless enough as it was and Ted didn’t need to see his flawless skin and enviable body in the place of Ted’s greatest insecurity) stepped inside and said, “Wow!”

Ted’s defenses snapped up, turning his back on Booster and bite out a sharp, “What?”

Booster didn’t seem to notice (or care) about Ted’s hackles being raised, just approached Ted, his costume top in one hand, still half dressed in slacks, with curious eyes and said, “You’re hairy.”

Ted, with his elbows tucked in to hide his sides, seethed and glowered, “I never would’ve noticed, thank you.”

The flat sarcasm in Ted’s voice finally got through to Booster because he lifted his hands placatingly, “No, no- I mean I’ve never seen anyone with so much body hair before.” He paused. “Anyone human, I mean.”

“Booster...”

Seeing that he wasn’t making the situation any better, Booster tried again. “No, seriously. In the future, people don’t really have body hair at all. Look,” Booster pulled off his shirt in one smooth motion and Ted couldn’t help a grimace- that was exactly what Ted never wanted to see in the locker room. “See?” Booster spread his arms out, trying to invite Ted’s attention to his body. His tight, cut, smooth, warm, golden body. Ted felt the need to hate him for this.

“Is this really necessary?” Ted snapped.

“I’m just saying,” Booster’s hand went to the fine dusting of blonde hair on his chest, almost invisible for their paleness, “I’m actually one of the more hairy guys where I came from.”

Oh, so not fair. Ted hated this tactic because it was almost always guaranteed to work- damn his curiosity. “What- people don’t have body hair in the future?”

“Some, but not a lot. I never even heard of shaving and waxing being associated with legs and stuff until I came here.” Booster chuckled a little. “That was a pretty weird moment of dissonance.”

Ted couldn’t help his attention wandering a bit. Over the sparse hairs on Booster’s chest to fine, hairless planes of his torso and though Ted knew Booster wasn’t hairy, he never actively acknowledged it before. Even below the naval, where Booster’s jeans rode dangerously low on his hips, there was only a sparse few, slightly darker hairs that trailed down-

Ted dragged his eyes back up to Booster’s face and said, “What, was body hair engineered out or something?”

“Pretty much.”

“Why?”

“To cut down on static.”

Ted’s eyes narrowed, studying Booster and trying to decide if that was absurd enough to be true or just absurd.

Booster, meanwhile, was studying Ted’s body intently, fascinated by the dark hairs there. He lifted a hand and asked, “Can I...?”

A dark eyebrow cocked up at him. “You want to touch my body hair?” Ted asked flatly. Now that was something he never imagined saying ever.

“Well, yeah,” Booster didn’t seem to think it odd at all. “I’ve never seen it so thick or dark before.”

“Fine, whatever.” Blood rushed to Ted’s face and he wondered why the hell he said that. Then Booster’s fingers were light on his chest and all that blood threatened to rush somewhere else. He tried to ignore the way Booster’s hand felt on skin- at first just brushing over the hairs on Ted’s chest and down to where they grew thick on his forearms. He traced back, touch a little stronger like he was petting Ted’s chest, then running his fingers through the curls.

Ted had to clench his jaw to stifle breathless little hitches. Booster leaned in to observe the way the hairs curled, how they lay and his other hand came up, thumb brushing through the hair around Ted’s nipple and Ted willed himself not to tremble, not to moan. Booster’s hands ran down Ted’s chest, following where the hair fanned out and thinned down Ted’s belly. When Booster sank to his knees, Ted couldn’t stop a little gasp, couldn’t stop himself from beginning to strain against his underwear as Booster thumbed the dark trail all the way down to where it disappeared under his waistband. He looked up, eyes dark and intense, and Ted’s breath froze.

Oh God, he was going to ask if he could keep going and Ted was going to tell him yes. He was going to say yes and embarrass himself because he was getting hard and all Booster was doing was touching him. And even if he managed not to say yes, the moment was forever seared into Ted’s brain and he was never going to get it out- of Booster kneeling before him, between his legs, the image of Booster’s bright hair contrasting to Ted’s dark curls, fingertips skirting Ted’s cock as he petted, exploring where the hairs nestled his sack and then Booster’s mouth on his cock, stretched and wet and dark red with his tongue swirling against Ted’s tip-

“Ted,” Ted didn’t know if Booster was flushed because Ted’s thoughts kept turning back to Booster’s lips and- oh God, Booster’s tongue swiped over them and they were suddenly shiny and wet and Ted could feel Booster’s breath ghosting against his belly and Ted wanted to bury his hands in Booster’s hair and tell him <i>yes</i>-

The door slammed open, “-gotta be the stupidest thing the bastard ever- the hell?” Ted’s eyes popped wide as Guy just stared at them and over Guy’s shoulder, Scott’s eyebrows jumped. And Booster was still kneeling in front of Ted, still had his hands on Ted’s waist and for a long, long moment, no one could move.

“Fucking Christ!” Guy yelled, shoving Scott back out the door, “Stop gaying up the locker room! Some of us straight guys gotta use it, too!”

Then, just before the door closed, Scott said, “Just clean up after yourselves, please.”

Another, even longer moment of silence descended and Ted tried to look anywhere but at Booster. Eventually Booster got back to his feet, face just as red as Ted’s felt and stammered out, “Uh, look, Ted-“

Ted turned back to the lockers, trying to think through his flustered, mortified state. “Hey, no worries. I mean- they don’t know what was going on and not like they’re going to listen to what was really happening.” He tried to grin but didn’t trust himself to look at Booster who was still standing just a bit too close. “Anyway, hope that satisfied you.” Because it sure as hell didn’t satisfy Ted.

“...y-yeah. Thanks, Ted.” Booster finally moved away and if there was disappointment in his voice, Ted was convinced it was only because he was projecting his own on Booster. “I’ll see you at the meeting,” he said, grabbing his costume from the locker and hurrying out.

Ted let his head thunk against the locker. Then he grabbed his own costume and went into the back for a much-needed shower.

>>47625

DAMMIT, GUY! Ted was just about to get some!
But seriously, Guy's lines were perfect. I LOL'd.

And can we get more of this somehow? I mean, Ted may be oblivious, but Booster wants in his pants hardcore. Booster has got to try again!

>>47554
DAT BODY HAIR

Also oh man it took me a second to get the little bubbles but then it hit me and I laughed really hard.

>>47625

BWA HA HA this was so perfect! With the sexyness and then suddenly GUY and he starts yelling at them and Scott is totally polite about it and I also vote for a sequel.

yesss i finally wrote something. inspired by that one DCAU comic where ted gets bored and lonely on monitor duty at the JLU watchtower.
***

This was the part of superheroing that nobody ever talked about. Not that Ted exactly fell into this business on purpose, but even so, one goes in with certain expectations, a mental picture from the news stories and the action figures. It's a picture with lots of explosions and heroics and dramatic, save-the-day moments, and the word 'boring' never comes to the forefront.

Whatever he thought he was getting into when he took up the Blue Beetle mantle, it definitely didn't include spending three nights a week watching monitors into the wee hours of the morning. Superman never had to do this stuff.

The fresh pot of coffee he'd brewed, while refreshing, wasn't doing a thing to take his mind off just how long he still had left on this shift, or the almost eerie silence of the Watchtower. In front of him, the screen flickered from one world news station to the next; for half an hour or so, he'd taken it off mute to see if he could follow any of it, but all he'd learned from the experience was that he'd forgotten all the French he learned in high school, and that what little Portuguese he'd picked up from Bea was really not the kind of language they allowed on TV.

He'd started doing the crossword. He'd raided the fridge. He was running out of ideas, and there wasn't even anyone around to talk to, not even---

Ted checked the clock. It was late, but not obscenely late (which was unfortunate, because at least 'obscenely late' would have meant his shift was closer to its end). There was a chance he'd be waking him up if he called now, but then, there was also a chance he was going to go stir-crazy up here, and surely a superhero with cabin fever and an armed satellite was a threat to humanity. He'd understand.

Switching the main monitors back onto mute, Ted leaned over to the communications panel and dialed.

One ring. Two rings. Then, "Y'ello?"

"I'd like a large pizza, extra cheese," Ted said with a grin.

"Uh," the voice on the other end sounded perplexed. "This isn't---waaaait. Ted?"

The grin broadened. "Hey, buddy. Did I wake you up?"

"Nope," Booster answered cheerfully. "Hang on- let me turn the screen on." Booster was one of the few people he knew who actually had a videophone just for the sake of having one, without the excuse of telecommuting or business meetings or any of the other things Ted would be inclined to buy one for. There was a faint click sound, then the picture fizzled into view on the small monitor just in front of him, Booster pulling back from the camera and flashing him a grin. "Working?"

"Read you loud and clear." Ted peered past him. "Oh, you moved it to the bedroom?"

Booster shrugged, settling comfortably on the sheets, chin propped on his hands. "More convenient. So what's up?"

Ted slouched back a little in his own seat. "Nothing. Less than nothing. It's dead up here."

"Up h---oh, yeah, you're on the graveyard shift this week, huh? Yikes. Who's around?"

"Nobody."

"Nobody?"

"Well, practically," Ted amended. "I mean...the support crew's around, I ran into that skinny guy from Engineering down at the vending machines, but otherwise? Everyone's out on missions. Or sleeping."

"Those jerks," Booster said, very sympathetically.

"Seriously."

"When do you get off?"

Ted cringed. "Metropolis time? Three."

Booster made a face. "Yuck."

"It gets better," Ted went on. "I have a meeting at nine."

"Double yuck." He watched Booster shift, tugging the pillow under his head. "You couldn't get out of that? Or this?"

"It'd be calling in favors I don't have," he said ruefully. The idea had certainly crossed his mind, but that was also the thing people didn't tell you about running a company: you still had to show up for stuff. There seemed to be an awful lot of misinformation about both of his professions, when he thought about it. But this was good, this was already an improvement - even if he was just whining to Booster, Booster was being a good sport and listening, watching him contently from the other side of the screen. Ted devoted a moment to enjoying the view: bright eyes, hair damp - fresh out of the shower, probably - and the broad, bare sweep of his shoulders and chest and---

He blinked. "Are you naked?"

"Huh?" Booster blinked right back. "Oh - no. Almost. I was just going to bed." And Booster slept in just his underwear - which was about as close to nothing as you could get, with the kind he wore, snug and high-cut and---Ted willed himself not to picture it, but then Booster grinned and said, "Do you want me to be naked?"

"No!" Ted answered, a knee-jerk answer. "I mean - " He stole a quick glance around, but the room was just as empty as it'd been since he got there, and just as empty as it was likely to stay for the rest of the night. Still, he lowered his voice, adding, "Not while I'm a million miles away. Save it for later."

"For when you get off?" Booster prompted hopefully, grinning. Ted thought about that, then sighed.

"No, because when I get off I'm going to have maybe five hours to sleep and I'm going to need all of them." Not that it was any easy task to turn Booster down - ever - but sometimes there was no way around it. Booster looked appropriately disappointed, then rolled onto his back, gazing up towards the ceiling and speaking up as casual as anything.

"Too bad. I can think of about ten things I'd like to do to you right about now."

Ted felt his ears burn. 'Save it', he meant to say again. Instead, he said, "Yeah?" and bit his lip.

Booster glanced over, smiling languidly, and Ted could see his hand slip in and out of view as he trailed a fingertip in idle circles over his chest. "What, you want me to spoil the surprise?" he drawled, and Ted hated him for that, for how he could seem so completely nonchalant even when he knew - and oh, he knew, he always knew - exactly what he was doing to Ted.

Well, as long as he didn't let this get out of hand...maybe he'd get some nice mental images to mill over for the rest of the shift. That didn't sound bad at all. "You could spoil it a little," he finally said, and Booster's smile widened into a grin.

"So I can tell you that I'd suck you off?"

Ted flushed crimson, ducking down in his chair. "Booster!"

"What?" Booster looked the picture of innocence. "You said you were alone, right?"

"Well---yeah, but---"

"Because that's what I'd do." He rolled back onto his side, gazing right ahead at the screen. "You're always tense when you get back from one of these shifts, so..." He looked thoughtful a moment, then smiled again. "I could give you a massage."

Ted slouched at the thought; Booster was sinfully good with his hands. "You'd do that?"

"Sure," Booster hummed, folding one arm under his head while the other kept drifting lazily across his chest. "I could even use that fancy oil stuff you bought."

Ted closed his eyes to better picture it, picture Booster's warm, unflinching touch, kneading all the kinks out of his back. He'd done it before, and it inevitably reduced Ted to a happy, boneless lump, incapable of worrying about a thing. "Mmm."

"I'd get you nice and relaxed," Booster went on, voice low and smoother than it had any right to be. "Then I'd roll you over and go down on you."

A hot shiver ran through Ted, and when his eyes flickered open he found Booster looking right at him, gaze steady and intent and oh, he needed to tell him to stop, he needed this to end before it got the better of him. Which, if Booster kept looking at him like that, was going to be very soon. But his mouth had gone dry, and Booster apparently took that as an invitation, because he kept going.

"I'd go real slow at first," he murmured, "and I'd take you in deep, Ted. All the way."

Ted's eyes rolled back, and he gripped at the chair's armrest, mind jumping to the memory of how that felt, Booster's throat around him, hot and tight and---"That---that thing with your tongue," he breathed. "Wouldja do that?"

Booster's eyebrows lifted; then he grinned, licking his lips. "Yeah...yeah, I'd get you all the way into my throat, then..." He flicked his tongue suggestively.

Ted groaned. This was a terrible idea. His cock was already straining against his costume, and he was supposed to be working. Not chatting with Booster. Not doing what amounted to phone sex with Booster. And definitely, definitely not reaching down to palm himself through his suit, unable to resist with Booster promising such appealing things. It was only then he realized Booster's hand had disappeared from sight, and there was a flush on Booster's cheeks to match his own. Ted swallowed hard. "Are you...uh..."

For a second, Booster looked puzzled. And then it clicked, and he let out a short, breathless laugh. "Not yet." Then he licked his lips. "Should I?"

"Seems only fair," Ted muttered, glancing down at his own hand, at his fingertips splayed over the now-stretched fabric of his shorts. Booster hummed again, then made a shaky noise that drew Ted's eyes up immediately, and the look of almost startled pleasure on Booster's face made his breath hitch. His eyes were closed, lips just barely parted, and Ted could see as much as hear the quick, slightly unsteady cadence of his breaths. He was ridiculously beautiful. Mindlessly, Ted squeezed his cock through his suit, biting his lip against a groan. When Booster opened his eyes again, they were wild and bright.

"Ted," he breathed. "Hey. Not fair. I can't see your face like this."

Ted faltered; but to hell with it, he quickly decided, there was no one around (and if there were, getting caught unmasked would be the least of his problems right now). Besides, everyone up here knew who he was, and his face was getting uncomfortably warm under the cowl. He had it off and set aside as quick as his hands could manage, and from there they moved onto his belt, and all the while he kept thinking this is still a terrible idea, even as he got it unfastened and pushed his tights down his hips. That was worlds better already, and he sighed his relief as he wrapped a hand around his cock. "God, Booster," he mumbled, letting his mind play with all that fine treatment Booster had offered him. "We shouldn't be doing this."

"I'd rather do it in person," Booster agreed, tongue running over his lips again, and Ted could see his shoulder shifting slowly. The camera cut him off just above the elbow, but there was no mistaking the rhythmic play of muscles, the way Booster's chest rose and fell unevenly, the look of dazed concentration flickering in his eyes. "What would you do?"

Ted took a shaky breath, fingers playing slowly over his dick. "If---If I were there?"

Booster nodded, and Ted fought another groan. He had always been the shameless one, the one who'd do - well, do something like this. "Come on," Booster coaxed, and Ted shivered at the faint lilt of need in his voice. "I know you've got an imagination."

"Sure," Ted conceded - because oh, he was certainly imagining things right now - "but you're the one with the dirty mouth." But Booster looked so eager that he couldn't fight it, and finally he closed his eyes and just blurted it out. "I really wanna fuck you right now."

His reward was a sharp gasp from Booster, and Ted's eyes snapped open to see him shiver, brows creased. "Oh, Ted."

"Yeah," he said, confidence bolstered by that wonderful reaction. "Yeah, I'd---I could---" God, it was so easy to picture and so hard to actually say; why was that? "I'd be on top, and...and...dammit, Booster, you're better at this."

Booster's laugh was quick and shaky, and he nodded against the pillow, hair falling into a disheveled mess that Ted instantly wanted to run his hands through. "Okay, okay, what about...I could get up on my knees, and you could....ngh...you could really go at it, just - just pound me into the bed..."

Ted shuddered hard, eyes drifting down to his cock, then back up to Booster's face as he jerked himself steadily. "Go on."

"Ted," Booster moaned. "Um, I - I could ride you, you could just lay back and I'd - I love that, y'know," he added breathlessly. "Love feeling you, fuck, Ted..." Ted couldn't look away, couldn't take his eyes off the steady motion of his arm or the dark blush on his cheeks, and his mind filled in the gaps. He could as good as see Booster touching himself, picture that big sturdy hand and Booster's cock, hard and dark---

"On your back," he said without thinking, working his fingers just below the head and fighting to keep his eyes open, to keep watching. It was worth it; Booster's breath hitched, and his eyes flickered open, wide and intense and as blue and electric as lightning.

"Y-yeah?" he panted, voice tight.

"With your legs up - up over my shoulders," Ted went on, self-consciousness overwhelmed by the need to see Booster, hear him, just take him in as he came apart. "So we're face to face, so I can - mh - so I can see you, Booster."

Booster moaned again, completely uninhibited, and squeezed his eyes shut. "Fuck, Ted---"

"You're close," Ted realized breathlessly, more a statement than a question; he knew Booster well enough, could always tell when he was almost there, and sure enough Booster nodded hastily and dug his free hand into the pillow.

"Ted, Ted," he keened, sounding desperate.

"Come on," Ted murmured, pulse pounding in his ears. "Come on, Booster."

Booster let out a choked groan; then he ducked his head forward and shuddered hard. Ted watched him shake and jerk, watched his shoulders hitch, listened to his voice dissolve into one short gasp after another.

When Booster panted out, "Ted!", sharp and broken, he lost it.

After the long minute it took to catch their breaths, Ted was the one who finally spoke up. "I can't believe we just did that."

Booster laughed, still sounding a little winded, and Ted looked up to see him smiling lazily. He looked utterly blissed-out, content and relaxed, and Ted wished against anything that he could cozy right up next to him. "I totally just made your night," he pointed out.

"I'm not arguing that."

"Good," Booster sighed, stretching out. "Ngh. Is it three yet?"

Ted chuckled. "I wish. You sure you want me over when I'm done here? I'm probably just going to fall into bed."

"That's fine."

"Okay."

They sat in comfortable silence another minute, then Ted shook his head and fumbled to tuck himself away, straightening his clothes out as best he could. "It's late - I should let you go."

"I guess." There was a rustling of sheets as Booster rolled onto his stomach. "Hey, wanna check the schedule before you leave? See when it's my shift?"

"Sure thing." Ted paused, then allowed himself a grin. "Are you gonna call me when it is?"

Booster chuckled into the pillow. "Oh, great, I'm a terrible influence on you."

"I could've told you that." Ted felt his grin soften into a smile, and had to resist the ridiculous urge to touch the screen, as if it'd be as good as really touching Booster's flushed cheek, his tousled mess of hair. "See you in a few hours."

"Mm," Booster yawned. "Stay out of trouble."

Ted snorted, hesitated just a moment, then pressed the disconnect button. Booster's face flickered from the screen, leaving him with only the monitors for company again, and he sat back in his seat and sighed. Well, if nothing else, they'd killed some time. And he did feel considerably more relaxed than he'd been before.

Switching the monitor volume back on, Ted propped his feet on the console and picked up the crossword.

Superhero business, indeed.

...I wonder what was that black ichor Max had on him at the end. Also is it me or did the chair he was sitting in look like a black lantern construct? I mean Captain Boomerang was shown to be able to use constructs...black blood constructs?

>>47741
Hhgggnnnnn... That was so hot. And the familiarity between them gave me so much warm and fuzz-ness. And I just loved Booster's filthy mouth, but Ted getting into it enough to tell Booster what he really wanted was the absolute best part to me. Excuse me, I'll be rereading this a third time in my bunk. :3

>>47741

You know, I've never really had a thing for phonesex. I think I do now.

It's not porn, but I wrote a little spot of Justice Riders nonsense. I couldn't resist.
There will almost certainly be more of this. It's too much fun to write.

***

This was, all things taken equally, not at all how he'd expected it to turn out. It was just part of life, he'd reckon - he could count on one hand the number of times things actually had gone as planned, and even that wasn't all-around a bad thing.

Judging from the stony silence of his traveling companion, he was just about the only one holding that opinion. Booster squinted at him.

"You got sights on not sparin' me a word for the whole trip, is that it?"

Beetle said nothing.

"Come on, Beetle, don't be sore," Booster tried again, going for placating this time.

More nothing. The train rumbled on.

"Look," he sighed, settling back in his seat. "This ain't even the craziest scheme I ever had."

"I'm sorry, is that somehow supposed to be comforting?" Ah, a response at last - though it came through gritted teeth, and Beetle's eyes were darkly unamused behind those ridiculous goggles of his.

"All's I'm saying," he clarified, "is I've come back from worse'n this before. You and me are gonna be just fine, partner."

Beetle huffed, making a show of turning away from Booster to watch the desert rush by outside. "Oh, 'just fine', well. You've certainly reassured me now. Never mind that neither of us will probably ever be allowed to set foot south of the border again---"

"Hey, now," Booster interjected, absently straightening his hat. "I wouldn't go s'far as to say that. Reckon it's just Cujé-Cujé what won't be like to welcome us back. And anyhow," he added, "weren't as if I had to drag you along. You were right there layin' odds and sellin' tickets with me, as I recall. Hell, the whole damned notion was half your idea to start with."

That just earned a groan. "I know, and I'll never forgive myself."

Booster couldn't help but scoff, leaning forward and reaching across the car to give Beetle's leg a good-natured nudge. "You got no sense of adventure, Beetle, I swear it."

"I'm not a gambling man by nature," he snapped back, "and this was quite a gamble."

"Y'ever notice people only say they ain't the gambling sort when they just gone and lost something?"

"I'm beginning to understand why."

Booster scrutinized his face - as best he could, with that 'thinking cap' of his masking a good half of it. "Even you got to admit we had a good thing runnin', for a spell there. You looked right cheerful when it was all tequila and señoritas far as the eye could see."

"Please," Beetle cut in, "never mention tequila to me again. I'm still trying to remember most of that."

"My advice on the matter would be 'don't'," Booster suggested, with an appreciative little whistle. "You did make a proper fool of yourself, all told. But!" he quickly added, before Beetle's scathing look could turn into a scathing comment or, worse, another stretch of icy silence. "You were a happy fool, no denyin'. Reckon we mighta done real nice down there if..." He trailed off.

Beetle eyed him flatly. "If the locals hadn't lied about the territory? If we hadn't been properly fleeced for every penny we had? Or perhaps if there hadn't been an earthquake?"

"Well, er, all of that," Booster conceded, wilting a little. "Sure. Still, we were havin' a fine time of it, up till that whole mess. And hey, it coulda been worse, right?"

Beetle's eyebrows shot up. "How?"

He had to think about that a minute, then finally shrugged. "Well, we ain't dead."

"I think I'm quite done talking to you."

Booster sighed, and gave up. Beetle was a downright curiosity most days - moreso even than one'd expect from a fella who went about with that manner of contraption on his head. One moment he'd be rarin' to go with whatever wild notion had struck his fancy that week, or he'd be up all night in the shop, tinkering and fixing and on occasion blowing things up. And then he'd get like this, all frustrated and reticent-like. The man could seem sorely in need of some evening-out, but then, taking away that spark of madness might well knock out the brilliance that came with it, something neither of them could afford (and which would be a crying shame, besides). So Booster, for the most part, didn't complain about being woken up at odd hours by the sound of explosions in the workshop below, and in turn, Beetle gave him employ at the shop and a proper roof overhead.

At least, he had so far. Suddenly, Booster was apprehensive. "Beetle?"

A long-suffering sigh. "Booster?"

He shifted in his seat. "We got a plan for what's like to happen next?"

It was a veiled question, but mercifully, Beetle took him at his level word. "We resume business as usual," he said flatly, tugging off the intelligence engine and setting it on the empty seat beside him. "It's going to take some time to recoup our losses on this one, but I've got a few gems I've been saving in the workshop." He locked his eyes on Booster's then, staring him down like he expected him to say something wildly foolish. "No more adventures till we're back on our feet."

And Booster, never one to disappoint, just had to say it. "And once we are?"

To his plain and open surprise, Beetle's lips quirked. It was the barest of things, but there was a smile in there, even as he closed his eyes and settled back in his seat. "Ask me then."

***

and now, as promised, dem showers. featuring chubby, assertive ted!

"Ted---"
"Bedroom, now."
"O-okay."

insomniac, you are an internet treasure

>>47865

DAT EVERYTHING

>>47865
I love the look on Booster's face. I can almost hear him whimper. And Ted just looks so deliciously pudgy and hairy and hnnggg... Ilu, Insomniac.

shucks, you guys.

HEY. HEY IDIOSYN. we are such a dangerous combination. continue writing sexy things.

>>47915

THERE IS NOT ENOUGH LOL IN THE WORLD! I WAS LITERALLY- AS IN THE LITERAL USAGE OF THE WORD AND NOT MISPLACED TERMINOLOGY -ROLLING ON MY FLOOR CACKLING. YOU ARE LOVE AND WIN AND AWESOME AND I WANT TO BUY YOU PUPPIES AND SHIT!

Oh gaaaaaaaaawd! Guy! Scott! Filename! There is no part of this I'm not completely loving!

>>47915

AH AH AH YES YOU NEED TO DRAW THE OTHER JLI MEMBERS REACTING TO TED AND BOOSTER MORE OFTEN IT'S FUNNY


Unrelated note: Since the 4th of July is coming up, I think we need some picnics, barbeques, and fireworks in here. Or just some patriotic stuff. You could probably work cowboys into that, actually.

IS L. RON named after the guy who founded Scientology?

>>47832
> "We got a plan for what's like to happen next?"
>"We resume business as usual,"

Take over the world?

That was an awesome fic! :D

>>47929
Yep. Manga Khan's robot lackeys all seem to be named after sci-fi authors. So far I've spotted L-Ron, K-Dick, Hein-9, and P-Craig.
>>47930
Much obliged! There'll be more where that came from.

>>47923
Fireworks!

>>47923
Unrelated but I just pictured Captain America in nothing but a flag-print thong. Patriotic.

Related. I can so see Ted and Booster somehow tricking Fire into being a human grill and barbecuing stuff on her. Right before she kicks their asses.

>>47954
This thread could definitely use some more flag-print thongs.

Also, contributing with some more Justice Riders

Insomniac, I am pretty sure you are the reason the internet was invented. Or, at the very least, why I've finally started collecting porn. Either way, thank you and don't ever stop <3

>>47958

"Why Beetle, ain't safe keepin' wrenches in yer pocket. Lemme just get that for ya..."
"hrghbl..."

Also- loving the filename.

Someone say flag-print thongs?

>>47965
>>47958
these are both spectacular. i love this thread and everyone in it.

I'm inna doodlin' mood. Someone hit me up on some prompts (because that's so much more important than working on thumbnails, trufax)

>>47970
Black Beetle and Booster?

(.......because there's not enough of them.)

>>47973
>Jaime and Booster.

Make it so.

>>47970
anything with ted being dominant. interpret that however you want. or: anything involving the Bug.