#shibascarf

even worse, my dude. it’s a tootsie roll, so it’s FAKE chocolate. my sincerest apologies

Got a request from the lovely @shibascarf to draw that good good boostle height difference

  shibascarf  ive learned so...

i’m crying, sub-drop is v real, and actually like a normal part of coming out of roleplay???? sub-space can be very powerful

  ive learned so many new bdsm terms after viewing...

i’m dying, i have to hear what new terms you learned

first thought: this explains his wardrobe

second thought: oh no what if he has that super rare color blindness that’s BLUE AND YELLOW……… Tritanopia!!!!

booster: we look great!!! blue and gold, at it again!!

ted: (squints eyes at green & violety-grey outfits) im gonna take ur word for it buddy i trust u

ted: (backflips into room and throws hands up) ta-dah!!!! check out my new uniform boost the blue beetle has received an Upgrade

booster: .. …. hon… i don’t know how to say this… but ur the green beetle right now

A2 - blood loss / high fever

“Red.”

An exasperated sigh. Another poke to his thigh.

“You’re red,” Hal accuses, staring at him in betrayal.

“Yes, Harold. I’m red.”

Hal seems to consider this for a moment, before nodding sagely. “Looks good on you.”

Barry presses harder to the gushing wound in his thigh, face feeling warm as he slips out of relative time to tighten the makeshift tourniquet and back in to keep holding the bloody remains of his undershirt to the giant laser hole in one very muscular thigh. He pats Hal’s knee awkwardly.

“Uh, thanks. I try.”

Hal flings his arm to the side, almost whacking him in the face. “You do try.”

“Uh huh.”

“You try all the time.” It still sounds vaguely accusatory. Where the hell is the League? Hal’s getting less coherent by the minute. He leans in close to Hal’s face and pulls up one eyelid to check his pupils.

“Well, yeah,” Barry agrees, cuffing Hal on the side of his head to get him to stop squirming around. “That’s kind of.. the point, I guess.”

He makes the mistake of meeting Hal’s gaze while he’s still a few inches from his face. Hal licks his lips. It takes him a moment to remember what he was doing.

“No concussion,” he says weakly.

“Really?” Hal tries to push himself up but gets blocked by a firm palm to his sternum. He falls back to the ground with a huff. Barry brushes a few stray hairs off of Hal’s forehead and tries not to react (and fails) when Hal turns his face into it with a hum. Jesus christ.

“I know, I’m surprised too,” he responds after he gives himself ten seconds out of relative time to calm down. He scoots backward to check under his undershirt. Shit. Not good. Very not good, judging by the way the tanned skin around the injury is starting to turn blue. He glances behind him, willing the League jet to just show up already. He glances back at Hal’s face.

Hal’s staring at him.

Barry tries not to squirm. “What?”

Hal keeps staring. Blinks once, slowly. Too slowly.

Barry hesitates, heart beating a little faster. “Hal?”

Hal blinks again, tilting his head to the side and narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. He opens his mouth.

“You’re pretty hot.”

Barry buries his face in his free hand, face burning. “Jesus christ.” Typical.

Hal’s head lolls back against the pavement with a whine. “Seriously, do I know you?” He slurs, hand twitching like he wants to point but can’t muster the energy. “You seem really..” Hal pauses, frowns like he’s thinking really hard. “Like I know you,” he finishes proudly.

“You do know me,” Barry agrees, worry lacing every word. Where is that jet? They should have been here by now.

Hal tries to push himself up again; Barry pushes him back down. Hal whines. “If I know you, then why am I-” Hal glances down at where Barry’s holding his undershirt to his leg. His eyes widen. “Oh shit! I’m red.”

“You’re going to be fine,” Barry assures, mostly to himself. He says it again, for good measure. Hal rolls his head to look at him.

“Why are you here?”

Barry blinks at him. “Because I’m keeping you from bleeding out, doofus.”

Hal does that slow blink again, forehead one big crinkle. “But why are you here?”

Barry pauses at that. “Uh,” he responds helpfully.

“I know why I’m here,” Hal mumbles, hand gesturing to his leg with all the strength of a kitten. There’s something peculiar about that way he says that, something.. tired. Resigned. “But why are you?”

“Because..” Barry hesitates, not quite sure how much of this Hal will remember tomorrow. Oh well, he’ll take Hal making fun of him if it means he gets out of this alive. “Because- I care about you, and don’t want you to die.”

Hal’s head falls back, eyes trained on the nebula floating above. “Huh,” he says softly, wondrously. “Weird.”

Barry puts a hand on Hal’s knee, focuses on sending small vibrations into his skin to hopefully accelerate cell growth. “What’s weird?” he questions, voice dropping to match Hal’s tone. Hal just hums, eyes slipping closed. Barry reaches up to lightly slap his cheeks.

“Don’t fall asleep.”

“M’not,” Hal insists, eyes still closed and voice slurring precariously. “M’good.”

“What’s weird?” Barry repeats, trying to keep him talking. The jet should be here any minute, any second now..

Hal doesn’t respond, just squirms around ever so slightly. “Cold.”

Barry looks around for something to cover him with, but- nope, just rocks, far as the eye could see. He looks back down at Hal. He looks absolutely miserable, shivering slightly and lips tinged blue. Okay.

“Okay,” he says out loud, slipping out of relative time to maneuver Hal as gently as he can into his lap, letting his head rest just over the lightning bolt on his chest. He curls his knee up so that he can keep the pressure on Hal’s thigh. He slips back into relative time. Hal’s eyes open and- wow, very brown.

Hal blinks at him once, opens his mouth like he’s about to say something and then- lolls his head so that he’s faceplanted in Barry’s chest, groaning softly.

“You’re so hot.”

Barry glances up at the stars above, looking around for any stray meteor that might decide to end his suffering. Any time now, J’onn.

There’s a weight on his chest and- oh, it’s Hal’s hand. Hal’s thumb, mindlessly brushing against the edge of his lightning bolt. His eyes are closed again. Barry jostles him slightly.

“Stop that,” Hal grumbles.

“Oh, sorry for trying to keep you alive. How rude of me.”

“Apology ‘cepted.”

Barry snorts, free hand finding its way to the back of Hal’s head to attempt to detangle his blood-matted hair. Hal makes a soft noise and rocks his head back and forth.

“Barry.”

“Oh, so you remembered my name, huh?” Hal lifts his palm from his chest and sets it back down.

“Barry. I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying, dumbo,” he responds with just a touch too much fervor. He squeezes the back of Hal’s neck, just for- reassurance.

“Will you,” Hal starts, interrupted by a full-body shiver and makes Barry clutch him tighter. He licks his lips, slowly like it’s taking all of his energy. God damnit. Where is that jet? Barry rubs at the base of Hal’s neck.

“Yeah.”

Hal huffs. “Don’ even know what I was gonna ask.”

Barry squeezes him, tucking his face down into the top of Hal’s hair. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll do it. You just need to stay awake until the jet gets here and I’ll do whatever you want.”

Hal sighs, slumping more against his body. “Dangerous,” he mumbles.

He opens his mouth to question him, but then- there, in the distance. A bright green light. Barry sags in relief. Finally.

“See? Our ride’s here. Nothing to worry about.”

Hal paws at his chest with a weak movement, groaning as Barry shifts to his feet. His eyes slip closed, and Barry runs.

It’s not until he’s setting Hal down onto the medbay cot that he speaks again, reaching for Barry’s hand as he moves to let J’onn have the space he needs to work.

“Stay?”

It comes out half way between a plea and a demand. Barry twists his hand around and brings them both to his forehead. He smiles.