#boomike

[snailbutters]

It’s been far too long since I’ve drawn these two

[genovah]

3am doodles 😌🍷

[renaerys]

PPG One-Shot: A Balmy Tuesday in Hell

Taking a break from the prompt requests to wish a very happy birthday to @snailbutters! Tbh I like this idea a lot and I’m tempted to expand on it more. Cross posted on AO3. 

xxx

When Mike went looking for a part-time job to earn some spending money, he had a hard time finding one that worked around his college class schedule. All the good on-campus jobs were taken, and most of the ones he found offsite required him to be up way too early or way too late with very little flexibility. 

The front desk position at the Beelzebob, a local hair salon advertising an array of “wicked styles” for any occasion, was not the most glamorous position, but it welcomed part timers and offered flexible schedules to be discussed on a case by case basis. It was at the tail end of a long week of job hunting with little to show for it, and Mike was tired. Still, he dragged himself all the way there after his three-hour Friday seminar and put on his best retail charm for the interview. 

One of the stylists told him to wait in the lobby while she grabbed the manager for his interview, and so Mike sat in a plush, purple chair and eyed the stack of magazines on the coffee table—HJi, Professional Beauty, NHF, and others he recognized from Googling “how to work at a hair salon” last night. A playlist that seemed to consist entirely of K-pop pumped ripples of bubblegum bass through the speakers and had Mike tapping his fingers on his hip. There was no one behind the sleek, glass reception desk, so Mike got up and wandered over to it. He tried to imagine himself with the headset on, fielding phone calls and helping customers pick out one of the many luxury hair products on the walls behind the desk. He touched his own brown hair—plain and getting a bit long, but styled with a little wax for the day—and worried about whether he should have tried a bit harder for this interview. Would he be judged on his own hair? That seemed reasonable enough—

“This simply won’t do.”

Mike startled at the lyrical voice and turned around to find a seven-foot, red-skinned demon in Lululemons appraising him over an enterprising nose. Which would have been a cause for mild to moderate alarm even in Metroville—a hub for lowlifes, Supervillains, and the occasional monster on a mission out of Townsville farther north—except that Mike recognized this particular demon. At which point he got the pun in the name of this place and smiled. 

“Him,” he squeaked. And then, remembering his high school retail training: “I mean, Mr. Him.”

Him—Prince of Pestilence, Duke of Depravity, Earl of Evil, et cetera—blushed the color of an open wound. “You’re house trained, I see. All right, this way.”

Him turned on his Louboutin heel and headed into the salon. Mike hurried after Him, unsure whether this was good or bad. Him led him to a styling chair and sat him down. A purple salon cape made its way around Mike’s neck with a flamenco flourish, and Him leaned over his head in the reflection. 

“What are we thinking?”

Mike eyed his potential future employer from perfectly curled goatee to artificial mink lashes and hesitated. 

This is a test. 

It had to be. Surely, anyone manning the phones had to know something about haircare in general. If he was to be the vanguard, the watcher on the Wall, he would have to be able to alert his colleagues of the incoming threats and answer questions about how to fend off anything from tangles to split ends. Mike tried to remember the last time he got a haircut; Boomer had been with him, his eye far more discerning than Mike’s. 

“Comb over,” Mike said. 

“Quiff?”

“More faux hawk.” He tried not to think of the heat on the back of his neck, and instead of the sly grin on Boomer’s face the last time he’d been under the scissors. “With a low fade. Um, please.”

Him’s fangs gleamed when he grinned. “Good choice.”

For a demon with claws the size of dinner plates, Him was surprisingly adroit and precise to a literal razor’s edge. In fact, Mike was certain Him must sharpen his claws to get them sharp enough to shave the hair from the nape of his neck, which seemed like a sensible time-saver. Blackpink’s Pretty Savage blared over the speaker as Him coifed and styled the thicker locks that remained on top of Mike’s head, combed to the left in enviable, anti-gravity perfection. 

“Wow.” He touched the side of his head, marveling at the close but generous cut and the perfect blend. “This has to be the best haircut I’ve ever gotten.”

He got up and removed the cape, only to find Him with a broom in his claw. “I run a clean salon, Michael.”

Mike accepted the broom without question. “Yes, sir.”

Him preened. “Good lad.”

“Does… Does this mean I got the job?”

Him flipped his claw. “There will be a trial period. You young people are so used to texting that I’ll have to determine if you’re fit to answer a phone. But, considering your manners, I have a good feeling about you.”

Amazing! “Thank you so much! When do I start?”

“Honey, you’re already late. I have customers waiting.” Him snapped his claw. “Chop chop.”

Mike swept up his shorn hair and the hair around the chair next to his, dumped it all in a bin labeled “Hair,” and ran to the front desk to answer the phone ringing off the hook. The stylist who’d greeted him, Marisol, helped him with the computer login so he could manage appointments and checkout. It was easy enough, a Square card reader and a cash register and a huge logbook of every sale. 

“Middle finger up, F-U, pay me,” Mike whisper-rapped along with Lisa. 

A couple hours later, Him handed him a check for the time worked and told him to be back here tomorrow at 3 p.m. Mike accepted the check, but he didn’t pocket it. 

“Sir, I should tell you for the sake of full disclosure.”

Him peered down at him with his claws on his hips. “Oh?”

This should not be so hard.

“I’m, well, I’m involved. With your son. Boomer.”

Him clicked his claw, and Mike held his breath. 

Boomer had spoken about Him—Baron of Brutality, King of Chaos, Emperor of Enmity et cetera—on just a few occasions throughout their acquaintance. Raising souls from the dead was a hobby of Him’s, apparently, but often his necromantic offspring ended up rotting and were no fit candidates to promenade in civilized society that wasn’t eternally damned and burning. Chemical X cut out that inconvenience, and thus the perfect little boys were reborn, or something. According to Boomer, Him was evil on Sundays, a prolific genius on Tuesdays, and crocheting with his kobolds on Fridays. The rest of the time he was just a normal demon trying to survive in this capitalist post-modern society like everybody else. Anyway, Sunday wasn’t in Mike’s work schedule, so that seemed safe enough.

“I know,” Him said. “You don’t expect me to believe you’d Googled the most flattering hairstyle for your bone structure without help, do you?”

Mike was pretty sure there was a compliment in there, even if it wasn’t for him. “I guess not.”

Him beamed. “Don’t worry. I would never let my favorite son’s romantic life influence the culture at Beelzebob. You’ll be judged before an impartial tribunal of incubi, like everybody else. Now, before you go, I’d like you to dispose of the waste, please.”

Mike learned the value of separating trash that day. Discarded receipts and candy wrappers dumped in the waste bin went into the trash, lunch leftovers went to compost, and cut hair went to sacrificial offerings. 

“Sacrifices reduce our carbon footprint and offer protection against flat Earthers. It’s a proven science, you know.”

Mike supposed it would be poor manners to argue with an ancient evil on his crochet day.

xxx

Boomer was all sly smiles and discreet hand touches when Mike treated him to dinner at their favorite Thai place later that week. 

“So, your job seems to be paying well,” he said. 

“Well enough to take my boyfriend out to a nice dinner now and then.”

“Careful. Spend too much time with Him and your tastes will get really expensive.”

Mike laughed. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll switch majors to cosmetology and join the family business.”

“You know what? He’d probably love that. He tried so hard to get Brick to follow in his footsteps, but Mojo let him mess around on his E-Shares account once when we were eleven and Brick was lost to the finance track forever. I’m pretty sure Mojo did it on purpose.” Boomer leaned in and clinked his wine glass to Mike’s. “Anyway, buy me this dinner before you jump to joining the family business.”

Mike flushed. “I’m—I didn’t—”

Boomer laughed. “Chill! I’m just messing with you.”

The playlist at the restaurant began playing Blackpink’s Kill This Love, and Mike burst out laughing. 

“What?” Boomer asked. “You like this song? You know, Him is really big into K-pop lately. Butch thinks someone must have sold a bunch of souls and made a killing.”

“I know.” Mike kissed Boomer’s hand. “It’s just funny how things work out.”

Boomer smiled. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

Their food arrived, and Mike happily ate his meal across from Boomer. And in the back of his mind, he said a little thank-you to Him and whatever chaotic forces he controlled for reviving Boomer all those years ago. 

It must have been a balmy Tuesday in Hell.

xxx

If you enjoy my writing, check out more of my fics on AO3, link in my profile. I’m currently updating Trinity House and The Alchemy of Us. Thanks for reading!

[thewritingstar]

The World Sucks

Pairing: Boomer, this is a solo fic for best boi (well maybe a little boomerxmike at the end ;)

Fandom: Powerpuff Girls 

Notes: Snippet September #4!

okay so I wrote this from an ask but then when it saved, it disappeared so I had to re-write it so im sorry for losing the ask. 

anyways the prompt was: boomer being done with his brothers, basically angsty boom. I changed it a little bit to incorapte the whole Jojo family so I hope you like it. (I legit couldn’t think of a title)

Tags: @seinlxlx (im sorry the ask got lost but I hope you enjoy this) @unvalley @cupcakesandnightmares (if you would like to be tagged pls lmk :) 

--

He hated this city. Hated the shitty ass high school he was forced into and hated everything else in between. On the rare occasion where the blond would voice his opinion, he was met with a roll of the eyes and a “shut the fuck up” attitude from his brothers. And they wonder why he keeps to himself. 

His brothers were fine. When they weren’t picking on him or being assholes, they were just standard boys who liked to blow shit up and never take responsibilities for their actions, not like Boomer was any better. But he did know when to shut the fuck up, something Brick would probably never know. 

But when you were the golden boy to a genius chimp and literal demon, you really didn’t need to shut up. No, Brick could get away with anything because well, he was a villain who didn’t care for societies rules and only followed them during class time. Boomer would probably describe him as a narcissistic asshole who head is shoved so far up his own ass, he's surprised that his dad’s words even reach his clogged ears. 

Brick got everything he wanted because of his leader boy status and Boomer was fine with that. Butch became the materialistic brat child who would be at daddy Mojo’s beck and call if it meant he got a brand new car or a hundred bucks to blow on weed and a new hook up of the week. 

His older brothers, by measures he's not quite sure of, were the cream of the crop in the villain world. Blowing up shit and taking names, that's what the Jojo boys did best. At least the red and green duo. 

As for Boomer, the rich lifestyle and temptation with objects to steal stuff and “take over the world” never worked on him. As a kid, sure a bag of candy could woo him for a few hours, but as time passes, he stopped caring for it all. 

Maybe it was the fact that entering the school system meant that he witnessed what normal families looked like. Loving parents and siblings who actually got along started to look nice. 

Maybe he wished that his dads would look at him and want to be proud of his decent grades and guitar playing. Instead, he was a creation not for love and joy, but for their own use. He was basically a minion who saw through the facade that his brothers bought into. Maybe he wished he bought into it too so that he wouldn’t feel this way. 

So maybe his hatred of the world was created from jealously. Now he understands why robots shouldn’t get feelings. When your sole purpose is one thing, no wonder he felt like a disappointment. 

The world sucked. His brothers sucked and he was sure that if they weren’t related, they probably wouldn’t even know each other. His parents sucked too. Everything sucked major balls and he hated it all. There was no good left in the world. 

“Hey Boomer!” 

The blond looked up from the journal he was scribbling in. His so called “counterpart” full of sugar and giggles came bouncing towards him with a bright smile. 

“Oh, hey Bubbles.” 

She looked at his journal and to him and offered a small smile. “It looks like its gonna rain.” 

The sky did in fact looked darker than usual. “I guess so.” 

“Well, we wanted to know if you wanna come to the movies with us?” She pointed over her shoulder to where her sisters and other friends stood. “Thats is if you could spare your bad boy reputation to hang with us?” She teased. 

Boomer let out a small laugh before standing. “I think I can mange that.” 

“Great!” Bubbles clapped her hands together and wrapped her hand around his arm. “Yeah know, I think Mike has a thing for you.” She winked at him and pulled him along. 

“Bubbles, I will throw you into a building if you don’t keep your mouth shut.” He glared at her with the empty threat. 

She smirk and made a motion of zipping her lips. “Hey look who I found!” She said as they approached the group. 

“Sup Boomer.” Buttercup gave him a fist bump. 

“Glad you can join us.” Blossom smiled. “I hope the new zombie film is alright with you.” 

“Sounds good to me.” Boomer smiled and he felt himself relax a little bit. 

“Hey Boomer, how's it going?” 

Boomer turned to see Mike and he hoped that no one, well expect Bubbles, could tell that his heart picked up a bit. 

“Uhh, good. Yeah going good.” He said awkwardly but the brunette laughed and Boomer swore he saw him wink. 

“Make sure to save me a seat.” Mike said as he turned his attention back to Robin. 

Boomer nodded and his eyes met with baby blue ones who gave him a knowing glance. 

“Shut up.” He mouthed and she giggled. 

So yeah, the world sucked and he might hate everything. But he had to admit that having friends mad it suck a little less. 

---

I hope you enjoyed :) 

[dogs-over-people]

Totally pointless message: I used to love the heck out of shipping the ppgs with the rrbs when I was a kid (specifically matching them by color). As a teen is when I found the pairings weird since they look like 3 sets of twins. So while I don't hate BlossomxBrick for example, I like seeing her more with Butch or Boomer these days. Ect. for the rest. I'm also cool with none of them being paired up at all too

Hey, it’s not pointless, anon! I know a couple people who find the color code ships too similar in appearance. I’ve grown on some of the non-color code ships, namely Butchubbles and Boomercup. The Reds are my PPG OTP, so I only ship them with each other.

I’ve also grown on ships like Princess x Buttercup, Princess x Bubbles, Princess x Robin (Princess is a lesbean), Mike Believe x Boomer, and Butch x Mitch.

[bee-cried]

@lisathefan

Heather Conan Gray for Boomike, Mike’s pov?

[snailbutters]

Part of a commission that I just had so much fun with lol. Client wants to remain anonymous.

[snailbutters]

This is my monthly contribution to my favorite crack ship.

And yes, I did finalize their designs to this. 👍