#tim drake has a high metabolism

[cactusracoon]

No one can ever find Tim in the Manor. Ok yeah the place is huge with a lot of rooms but I mean the batfam have looked over the whole place before and still couldn't find him. He has small hiding places that no one can get into or are able to look.

Damian is small yes but he also has muscle while Tim is a 5'3 teenager with the body type of a stick. There's only so many places Dami can look before not being able to fit anymore.

I also think Tim has a high metabolism one reason that he's so small but he also forgets to eat because he's a chronic workaholic.

Heres a picture of Tiny Timmy

I drew him instead of doing my school work

[oathofoaksart]

YOUNG JUSTICE/DC OC: MUNCH “YELLOW JACKET” MARTINEZ

bio under the cut!

BASICS

Name: Taylor Martinez 

A.K.A: Yellow Jacket; Munch, Munchie, Jacket, YJ

Age: 16 [S2], 18 [S3]

Gender: Transgender Male 

Orientation: Homoromantic Homosexual

 Race: Metahuman 

Ethnicity: Afro-Latinx, Black-Colombian

Location: Dakota City, Michigan

Hometown: Dakota City, Michigan 

 Skin: Dark Tan, warm undertones 

Hair: Black 

Eyes: Dark brown; glow fully yellow while actively using metagene 

Height: 5’10

Build: Lean with sinewy muscles

Distinctions: Has a large collection of hoodies and jackets, specifically of shonen anime merch. 

 RELATIONS

Parents: Gloria Martinez and Jamal Winston, Danielle Seymore [step-mother] 

Siblings: Tori Winston [younger half-sister] 

Friends: Virgil “Static” Hawkins, Jacklyn “Ferro” Ericson @generalfandomsofthefreak, Raquel “Rocket” Irving, Eduardo “El Dorado” Dorado Jr., Jaime “Blue Beetle III” Reyes, Karen “Bumblebee” Beecher, Malcolm “Guardian III” Duncan, Asami “Sam” Koizumi, Tye Longshadow, Roy “Arsenal” Harper, Tatsuo “Irezumi” Sumioka [@Triskata], Bart “Kid Flash II” Allen, Gi “Riot/Geode” Flores [OC], Shizuka “Oni” Amachi [OC], Tim “Robin III” Drake, Forager “Fred Bugg”, Violet “Halo” Harper, Brion “Geoforce” Markov

Partner/s: Richie “Gear” Foley [ev.]

Misc.: Augustus “Icon” Freeman, Jefferson “Black Lightning” Pierce, Ivan “Ebon” Evans, See-More, the HIVE 5, the Meta-Breed gang, the Blood Syndicate

Affiliations: The Team, Taos Metateen Youth Center, The Titans [ev.], S.T.A.R Labs [formally] 

 PERSONALITY

Personality Type: ESTP-A [Assertive Entrepreneur] 

Temperament: Choleric-Sanguine 

Alignment: Chaotic Good 

Passionate | Social | Upfront | Risk-prone | Defiant 

 Smart-mouthed, openly opinionated, and with an apparent lack of volume, Munch quickly cements himself as the class clown in any group. He enjoys living in the moment, a truly free spirit with an infectious energy. He is the textbook extrovert, finding himself to be bored out of his mind if not sharing with others, leading him to have quite the large group of friends and acquaintances. He’s notorious for poking fun at anything and anyone, but has no problem sincerely apologizing once he realizes he might have taken something too far. 

As a hero, Munch takes after his namesake, the Yellow Jacket wasp. Quick, nimble, and particularly aggressive, Jacket revels in the comic book hero lifestyle of kicking butts and taking names. His energy blasts aren’t his only weapons, he has as much fun slinging insults and burns as he does physically taking someone down. He certainly enjoys the attention of being a hero in a celebrity sense, but Jacket sees his role as a chance to inspire others to fight the good fight in any capacity. 

Hot-blooded as he is, Munch struggles with controlling his emotions. He can be easily frustrated, especially when things aren’t as straight-foward as he is, and blisteringly fierce when angered. It takes an ungodly amount of coaxing to get him to let go of past grudges due to his tendency of being bullheaded. 

 ABILITIES AND WEAKNESSES

Metahuman Biology: Metahumans by standard are more durable than humans. While not by much, Jacket exhibits increased strength, speed, reflexes and resilience. 

Plasma Manipulation: Jacket’s metagene allows him to create, shape, and otherwise manipulate plasma matter

Plasma “Stingers”: By shooting short blasts of plasma energy, Yellow Jacket creates his signature “stingers,” the potency of said stingers can vary from shocks to explosions. 

Variants include plasma beams and large spheres, but they currently require more concentration and stamina to use

He can also use his stingers to push him off surfaces as a kind of super-jump and can sustain limited flight mobility

Plasma Shields: Jacket can create small shields, enough to deflect low to medium powered attacks. Large shields require significant effort to shape and contain, once he’s made one, he’s stuck sustaining it. 

Inventory

Flight Belt: Jacket can fly thanks to the inertia belt made by his mentor Icon, based off Rocket’s Inertia belt. Since it was not made of the same material as the original belt, it allows only for flight and a decent powered body aura. 

Goggles: Jacket’s goggles feature different kinds of vision including: Telescopic, Microscopic, Infrared, and X-Ray

 Weaknesses and Limitations

Energy Stamina: Jacket stands the risk of overexerting himself if he pushes his plasma control too far. The reason why he tends to stick with short blasts is because they take much less energy to conjure. Attacks such as beams, energy spheres, and large defensive shields can potentially wear him down to unconsciousness if the strain is too much.  

High Metabolism: Similar to that of a speedster; Jacket’s plasma energy tears through his calorie reservoir. He needs a rather high end amount of food to sustain himself properly or else his energy suffers. 

 HISTORY

16-year-old Jamal Winston and Gloria Martinez figured trying to force their relationship made having to take care of their newborn far more painful than it had to be and called it quits. They continued co-parenting with both opting to drop-out of high school, Gloria a fulltime mother and Jamal picking up a fulltime job. Eventually the two managed to assuage any resentment towards each other and made steps toward genuine friendship, both turning out to be equally dedicated and loving parents. 

Taylor, named Clara at the time, enjoyed school. Not so much the actual studying as the playtime and socializing, but he was a bright student. In middle school he discovered a love for track and kept at it when he entered high school. Taylor was doing well, but struggled with his self-esteem in connection with fitting in with girls. He’d always been masculine and known a tomboy for nearly all of his childhood. His parents never had a problem with that, but he was picked at by other family members. It wasn’t until high school where Taylor discovered himself as trans, which both gave him answers he’d been looking for and terrified him as he had no idea how to go about this with his family. 

The topic of LGBTQ+ matters rarely passed through his household with his mother or with his father and step-mother. None of them openly expressed homo or transphobia, but Taylor had met enough extended family anti-LGBTQ+ and that stopped him from broaching the subject. Still he began looking into subtle ways to get a "head-start" on transitioning, including buying a binder and teaching himself natural voice changes. 

But Taylor was publicly outed during a family get-together, when a few of his younger cousins rifled through his belongings and brought with them the attention of Taylor’s uncle. When the situation turned into an all out yelling match and nearly physical, Taylor ran off. It would be the last anyone would see him for the months to come. 

While wandering around Dakota City, Taylor was abducted by the Reach and experimented on, the stress and torture he endured all the while activated his dormant metagene. He was eventually rescued by a team of young heroes while deep in the Western Pacific Reach mobile base, recognizing a past classmate, Virgil Hawkins. The two stuck close out of familiarity as they were eventually shifted over to S.T.A.R. Labs in Taos. 

They spent a month or so under the eye of Dr. David Wilcox, building resentment over being treated as lab rats alongside Tye Longshadow, Eduardo Dorado Jr., Asami Koizumi, and Nathaniel Tyron. It was during this time that Taylor’s commonly used nickname of ‘Munch’ came about because of his extreme appetite due to his metagene and at that point Taylor hadn’t chosen his name yet. The group, sans Nathaniel, then came to agree their stay at S.T.A.R was over and escaped. 

Their party was joined in by Jacklyn Ericson, unknown to them a hero known as Ferro and Team member, and were soon approached by Lex Luthor who offered them security in exchange for favors against the Reach. Little under two weeks later, the gang were fighting their way through the heart of the Warworld to rescue the captured heroes caught in stasis. Munch was on board with Nightwing’s invitation onto the Team, he’d always looked up to the Justice League and heroics called to him, but left with the others at seeing Arsenal’s dismissal despite him leading the rescue. 

Munch wouldn’t involve himself with heroes until their group until the League reached out to Jacklyn; they needed as many hands on deck. The Reach had activated field disruptors around the world which would eventually tear Earth to shreds if not shut down; Munch was paired off with Rocket to shut down the disruptor in Chile. Munch couldn’t hide his joy at being paired with Rocket, he’d been a fan of hers ever since she started off in Dakota City as Icon’s protégé. The two got on well and Rocket extended another invitation onto the Team stating their hometown could do with another hero, this time Munch accepted. 

He would take on the mantle Yellow Jacket and when Rocket’s former mentor Icon returned to Earth, was taken under his wing as a mentee. He and Virgil, who had also accepted the invitation onto the Team as Static, became the new generation of heroes in Dakota City. 

Just in time too, as from the shadows rise a threat spreading across the city’s metayouth, the Metabreed. 

  NOTES

Munch does eventually make it back to his parents, who have been been running themselves ragged organizing search parties for him. 

Because of his color scheme and insect motif, Jacket tends to be confused as Bumblebee’s protégé instead of Icon’s. Not that it’s cause for insult, but Karen and Munch note they wouldn’t make good partners. 

Munch comes to find out of another super in the family, although not of the heroic kind. His step-cousin is member of the H.I.V.E 5, See-More. 

He enjoys various shonen anime, occasionally reading the manga if he likes the anime enough, his favorite being the Dragon Ball franchise. He makes a nod towards this during the escape at S.T.A.R when Virgil asked him if he could blast open the door. When Munch’s first few blasts don’t cut it, he tries a larger beam in the only way he knows how, via Kamehameha.

Yellow Jacket has become very active on social media and has a notable following, much to Icon’s annoyance. 

Munch has recently taken up being a peer counselor at S.T.A.R Taos alongside Ed Jr.

[badacts]

crack in the ceiling/where the light bleeds in

Jason has a problem. Tim solves it because that’s his job in this family. Also on ao3.

The effects of the Lazarus Pit don’t last forever. Just ask Ra’s.

The thing is, Jason thought that might be a problem he’d have to deal with later. Like, ‘towards the end of a natural human lifespan’ later, in the event that he reached old age in his round two at all. Instead, he’s twenty-four, and he’s pretty sure he’s dying.

Or worse, not dying. It wasn’t, after all, the Lazarus Pit that brought him back to life. It just restored the function of his brain and everything that makes him himself along with it. Which he now seems to be losing.

So far, the extent of his problem-solving has been some quiet questions about the Lazarus Pits that still exist and also determinedly not saying anything to any of the bats. Of course, keeping it on the down-low from them precludes acting crazy in front of them.

Which is why, when the becoming-familiar need to puke comes over him while he’s working a case with Nightwing, he bolts.

“The hell?” he hears from behind him. “Red Hood!”

Jason ignores him, rapidly regressing from ‘feared vigilante’ to ‘scared animal’. By now, he knows the drill: first, the faint roll of nausea, followed by confusion, and then the visual hallucinations. Sometimes he hears shit, too. Then it’s followed last of all by the pain of his brain trying determinedly to break itself apart.

Pain is just electrical impulses. A reaction of the body - just the workings of fancy machinery, or maybe fancy meat. It’s the other stuff that scares the shit out of him. Particularly the shivering loss of control.

He can’t afford it. He can’t ever, ever afford to lose control.

He goes to one of his quieter places, with the entrance through a slanted skylight on the roof. His hands feel a thousand miles from his head as he fumbles through setting the security system. His vision is sparking, bubbles of light bursting and then dimming again too slowly.

The sliver of rational thought left to him wonders if this time will be the one he can’t come back from, but the rest of him is consumed by the need to get somewhere dark and quiet and just wait. He takes off his boots and the too-heavy outer layers that are chafing at his skin and setting his nerves on fire. Once he’s mostly stripped down, he lowers himself cautiously onto the mattress in his windowless bedroom.

In the dark, with his eyes closed, it’s almost like having a stomach bug, if he discounts the sense of impending doom. He breathes, and breathes, and determinedly doesn’t lose it.

*

He wakes with a start when the lights come on overhead. He makes the mistake of opening his eyes, and the resultant bolt of pain drags a sound disturbingly close to a whine from between his teeth.

“Fuck,” someone says, too loud. “Jason?”

Jason doesn’t reply, forcing an arm up to cover his eyes. The return of the darkness helps, but it also makes him aware that he’s breathing too fast. He wishes he could stop: it hurts.

“Photosensitivity,” Tim says more quietly, either narrating the work his big brain is doing, or, in a more likely scenario, telling the others exactly what’s wrong with Jason. “Rapid respiration. Nausea, if I had to guess.”

Fingers ghost over his brow, and then prod less gently at his chest and abdomen. He flinches away from the touch to his belly. “ Don’t .”

“Diffuse abdo pain,” Tim says. “Don’t touch? Sorry. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

He sounds awfully relaxed, for someone who’s in danger. Jason remembers vividly before - Tim underneath him, breathing blood, and the sick and overwhelming sense of victory that he had won out over his replacement. Not caring that the kid under him might die. Hoping for it.

He can’t blame the Pit for his thoughts, not really, but it can take some of the responsibility for his lack of inhibitions, control and morality. These days, he’s pretty happy that Tim Drake is alive and kicking. He really, really doesn’t want to be one to put him in a grave.

“Go away,” Jason grits out. Each muscle in his jaw feels like high-tensile wire.

“One moment,” Tim says, followed by the distinctive click of an earpiece being muted. “I’m not going anywhere, Jay.”

The desperation sweeps over him like a tide. Thirty seconds ago, he couldn’t have imagined moving. Now, he forces through that and lunges at Tim.

Then he’s face down on the floor and retching, not quite sure how he got there. His head -

“Easy,” Tim is crooning, like he might have been going for a while. It has to be a tone he learned direct from Dick. “Yes, thank you, B. That’s very helpful.” And that tone is the result of years of dealing with Batman. “ Yes, B.”

There are fingers at Jason’s sleeve then, pushing it up, and then a pinprick in Jason’s arm. Tim says, “Ondansetron administered. Give it a minute.”

Jason lies there, trying not to inhale his own sour breath, feeling the right side of his head throb in time with his heart, until his stomach actually starts to settle. It feels like fifty years - with his metabolism, it’s probably more like ten minutes. He empties a sigh into his floorboards.

“There you go,” Tim says. He sounds like he’s talking to the victim of a violent crime, not Jason. “I’m going to help you back onto the bed, okay?”

His hands wrap around Jason’s forearms, and he starts to pull Jason up. But wiry muscle aside, one hundred and fifty-some pounds of Tim doesn’t have a hope of moving Jason if he doesn’t want to be moved. And he doesn’t.

“...or not,” Tim says, and capitulates by settling a blanket over Jason - being careful to avoid trapping his arms - and then raising his head to settle a pillow underneath it. It’s not much movement, but it still makes stars go off behind Jason’s closed eyelids. He bites back another groan.

“Your head hurts, huh?” Tim asks, because he’s some kind of detective or something. Jason would roll his eyes if he could. “Have you been knocked out recently?”

“No,” Jason says, and then a fragment of his familiar refrain: “Helmet.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tim’s definitely rolling his eyes. “What does it feel like? The pain?”

Jason presses his fingers into his right eye socket. Then he flicks them out to mime an explosion. “Throbs.”

He doesn’t need to see Tim to hear his metaphorical ears prick up. “Oh, shit. Did you see things, before it started to hurt?”

“Lights,” Jason admits. It’s less creepy than admitting that he also hears bubbling like boiling water, on and off, just quiet enough he can almost ignore it right before the pain kicks in. “They’re green.”

“Good,” Tim says, which absolutely wasn’t the response Jason expected. There’s more rustling, and then Tim says, “Little prick.”

“Fuck you,” Jason replies, letting Tim stick him with another needle, and then, when Tim snorts, “D’you have to do the clinic run too?” That was something he did once or twice when Bruce felt he needed the education - assisting Leslie at the clinic. Nothing makes you as appreciative of working on other bats as helping treat civilians. Normal people.

“Only when I really pissed him off,” Tim replies. “I’m going to roll you over now. Try not to puke on me.”

“Not gonna puke,” Jason replies, more out of stubborn will than any actual faith in himself. However, his stomach stays settled, though he keeps his eyes firmly closed.

“You’re lucky I brought my kit with me,” Tim mutters, more to himself than to Jason as he resettles the blanket. “What were you going to do next time you get a serious wound? Put a bandaid on it?”

Jason’s first aid kit is perfectly adequate, though maybe a little sparsely stocked right now. Normal people just don’t carry prescription anti-nausea medication on their person. Jason can’t think of a way to communicate that without moving his jaw, so he just gives an unamused huff.

There’s a ruffle of sound, and then the distinctive soft shick of someone pulling off their domino. “It’s just a matter of waiting it out now.”

“What?” Jason mumbles. He’s assuming Tim isn’t waiting for him to die - not even he would sound so cool about that - but he’s not entirely clear on what it is they’re waiting for, or doing, or what Tim just injected him with. It’s just that now the creeping anxious nausea has faded, it’s hard to worry about anything beyond the pain and the way his whole body feels like rocks shoved in a sack.

It’s the light - even through his eyelids, it’s uncomfortable. He’s just about to demand Tim turn off the overheads when a hand drops over his eyes, leaving him in blissful darkness.

“Sorry,” Tim says. “I need the light in case you actually are having an aneurysm. Do you get headaches like this a lot?”

Jason’s slightly offended by Tim calling it a headache. His brain is breaking. “Sometimes.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re having a migraine,” Tim says. “Have you been to a doctor?”

That question is frankly fucking laughable, and both of them know it. Jason mumbles, “I’m dead.”

“And as you like to tell us, you wear a helmet because you already died of head trauma once,” Tim says. “People with past TBIs are more likely to have migraines.”

“How’d I know that?” Jason’s slur doesn’t sound pissed off enough. Skipping the consonants hurts less though. “Didn’ finish high school.”

“Neither did I,” Tim points out.

“Nerd.”

“Loser.”

“Probably.” At least they’re in the same boat. “Migraine, huh?”

“Pretty sure,” Tim confirms. “If you were having a brain bleed, I reckon you’d be dead by now. Again.”

“Lazarus Pit. Thought m’head was broken,” Jason mutters faintly. He doesn’t mean to say it, would never admit it to Tim Drake in a million years. It’s just a moment of weakness.

“It is,” Tim replies, on the shadow of a laugh. “Not like that, though.”

*

The after phase is a real trip.

“Euphoria,” Tim observes. “Decrease in pain, plus all the dopamine your body has been pumping out - instant high. Same thing happens to new moms once they’ve pushed their babies out.”

“Thanks for that,” Jason rasps. He’s in bed now, though he’s working on blocking out how he got here. He’s already going to owe Tim for tonight, but he draws the line...right there. “Seriously, you can leave now.”

“No can do,” Tim replies. He’s still in his uniform, though he’s ditched the cape and the armed over-vest for just the pants and a slick-fabric undershirt. It makes Jason’s gear look clunky and old-fashioned by comparison. “I’m on baby-sitting duty.”

Not even the slow haze of hormones can dull the bite of irritation at that. “Fuck you.”

“To be clear, I don’t think you’re going anywhere right now,” Tim clarifies. “I’m just here for everyone else's’ peace of mind.”

“Anxious freaks,” Jason mumbles, though not unkindly.

“You can hardly blame them. It’s never a good sign when the Red Hood disappears without a word,” Tim says cheerfully.

Despite himself, Jason prickles. “They that worried for the safety of Gotham’s criminal element?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tim snorts. “They’re worried you’re going to get yourself killed. Again.”

Jason doesn’t have a reply to that. Sensing that, Tim continues, “I actually think you might be right about the Lazarus Pit. You thought it was wearing off, right?”

“Right,” Jason confirms after a moment, though grudgingly. Stupid detective brother.

“It might be,” Tim says. “Just enough for your brain to remember that it got seriously injured back then. Or you might have a different trigger. There’s something here about diarying your episodes and trying to figure out the causes from that.”

Jason doesn’t have to look to know Tim is scrolling through his phone where he’s sitting cross-legged on the mattress next to Jason. He said something brisk about being close enough to ‘monitor’ when Jason tried to shove him off, and he’d given up. His head doesn’t hurt anymore, not precisely, but he still feels wobbly-necked and fragile.

“Triggers?”

“Storms, specific kinds of food, stress,” Tim lists.

Jason opens his eyes specifically to give Tim a dubious look. “Stress?”

Tim looks back at him just as dubiously. “How many hours sleep do you get a night?”

“Fuck off,” Jason replies, and firmly closes his eyes again. Stress. Jesus Christ.

“I’ll get you a headache journal for Christmas,” Tim says lightly, and then, “So, why’d you try to beat me up?”

“I always beat you up.”

“Not tonight you didn’t. We don’t reward points for effort in Gotham.”

Oh. That attempt at beating him up. Jason mumbles, “Don’t know.”

“Whatever.” Tim can fit a lot of scorn in that tiny body of his.

“Maybe I just don’t want you around,” Jason snaps, sharp as he can make it right now.

Tim, predictably, rears back to give Jason one of his lizard-glares. It doesn’t last long though, fading into something a bit more evaluatory. He says, “You can’t make me leave.”

Jason sputters, caught between the desire to laugh derisively and the desire to get up and shove Tim out the window he came in through. Before he can pick, Tim lays down on top of the bedcovers on the empty side of the mattress.

“Hey, this bed is really comfy,” he says, as though he isn’t constantly being found asleep on hard non-bed surfaces across Gotham. Jason once found him napping on a rooftop.

“I’ll give you the website of the place I got it off if you go away,” Jason attempts.

“Like I couldn’t find it myself,” Tim scoffs, scrunching himself down into Jason’s pillows. “Hey, pass me that blanket?”

“No,” Jason replies, pulling the blanket in question tighter about himself. It’s his favourite, warm and soft, and the weight of it on top of him is already making him sleepy despite Tim’s rudeness.

“It’s okay, I don’t need one anyway,” Tim says.

“Seriously, go away.” What is the world coming to? The only brother Jason should have this much trouble getting rid of is Dick.

“Babysitting, remember? And when baby sleeps, so does sitter.” Tim pats kindly at Jason’s blanket-covered elbow. Jason kindly doesn’t strangle him for it.

Yet. He doesn’t do it yet. Because there’s a tickle of nervousness in the pit of his belly about having someone else sleep so close to him, and not out of fear for his safety, either. That on top of his incomplete acceptance of Tim’s migraine theory has him lying stiff in his blankets when Tim finally reaches over and flicks the lights off.

“Big spoon or little?” Tim asks, which surprises Jason so much that he actually laughs. “Go to sleep. You’ll feel better afterwards.”

“Did WebMD tell you that?”

“Nah. Everything is just always better with more sleep,” Tim replies, and then yawns. “Shh.”

Jason manages about five minutes of his commitment to stay awake while Tim’s breathing slows and evens out next to him. He’s warm and comfortable and his head doesn’t hurt anymore, and he might not be dying or going crazy after all. The closer he gets to sleep, the easier it is to believe.

He’s nearly asleep himself when Tim, sounding far more awake than Jason would have expected, says, “I’m not scared of you.”

He probably should be. That said, they’re Robins - not scared of much. Jason mumbles, “Go to sleep,” and promptly follows his own command.

[fatcatsarecats]

a little bit of amnesia!Tim

—

The world comes to him in slow, churning waves. Tim squints at the ceiling as he tries to blink away his bleariness.

His pillow is plush and soft—that’s the first thing he notices. It smells like fresh sheets, specifically the laundry detergent he uses at home, and something warm, earthy, and comforting. He’s lying on his side under a duvet and there’s a heavy arm slung across his waist. That’s the second thing he notices.

In all honesty, it’s not too strange to wake up and find a limb thrown over him. Whenever his stunts becomes a bit too careless, or whenever his teammates need a little touch to ground them, he usually finds Steph, Cass, or any of the Titans huddled under his sheets. Cass is a bed hogger, Steph likes shoving her cold feet under his butt, and Bart, especially, is a bit of a spooner. Thus, an arm hugging his waist isn’t the strangest thing he’s ever woken up to.

His body aches, the way it usually does a day a particularly strenuous workout. His arm twitches in protest as he reaches for his phone on the bedside table and frowns at his screen.

His phone screensaver is a picture of Jason—Jason sleeping, in his grey-blue turtleneck, face planted into a pile of books on a table.

It’s not that it’s a particularly bad photo. In fact, Tim might even say that Jason looked cute snoozing without a care, his rough edges softened in sleep. It’s the fact that, the last time he checked, his wallpaper was of the Bat-Cow licking a disgruntled Damian. Someone must have been tampering on his phone without Tim knowing, and that knowledge bothers Tim completely.  

His bedmate rustles behind him. The arm around his waist tightens, pulling him flush against warm, solid muscle.

Tim resists the urge to melt into the cushioning heat.

Someone’s nose, slightly chilly at tip, buries itself in the crook of his neck, and nuzzles up the mouth pressing a kiss behind his ear.

“Morning,” a voice grumbles, rough and deep, and in no way at all like Bart’s in the mornings.

A cold breeze brushes against the back of his neck. Tim’s whole body stiffens.

Still drenched in a sleepy haze, the mouth drags itself a leisurely trail down his neck in way that’s more familiar and sloppier than Tim’s ever had with anybody and—this is definitely not Bart.

Tim jabs the body behind him with his elbow, before throwing himself out of the bed. An ‘oof’ behind him, followed by thud as Tim smacks against the floor, his legs tangled in the bed-sheets.

It’s only as he’s scooting his back to the wall that Tim finally recognises the voice mumbling his curses.

“Tim, what the fuck?” Jason asks, one arm rubbing his rib, his words still slurred with sleep.

Tim just barely stops his jaw from smacking onto the ground.

What is going on here?

“All right, I get it,” Jason says, combing a hand through his messy hair. “You’re not a morning person. Seriously, though, would it kill you to pull your punches?”

“I—uh—what?”­ Tim asks.

Jason flops onto his back. “That actually hurt, you doof. I’m going to need, like, a million back rubs to get over that.”

“What?”                                               

“Ugh. Whatever,” Jason says. He pats the mattress. “Come back to bed. I want to sleep a little more. We don’t have to get up till ten today.”

No response from Tim. He stares at Jason and the line between his eyebrows crease grows deeper and deeper as each second passes.

Jason pokes his head up. “Tim?”

Tim’s aware that he could sound paranoid, but that’s never bothered him before. The picture in front of him is unsettling. Discordant from their usual tone of interactions. Everything seems too genuine; the cuddling, the confusion, the kissing—the sensations are too nuanced and full for it to be a hallucination.

Jason in bed, his hair rumpled and sticking up, a small growth of beard on his chin. He’s like an open book, unguarded and vulnerable. It’s strange to see him like this when the Jason that Tim knows would never let Tim see him as anything other than a sharpened blade or a finger on the trigger of a fully loaded gun.

Even when this Jason is confused at Tim’s behaviour, he still smiling at Tim’s like Tim’s the cosiest thing Jason’s wanted to hold since he’s woken up.

“Babe?” Jason asks again. “What’s up?”

Babe? Tim thinks. What the heck?

“Tim?” Jason asks.

“I don’t think I’m your Tim,” Tim blurts out. “ I have no idea how I woke up here, and I have no idea how to get back. I think something must have happened and I’m another Timothy Drake Wayne from another universe.”

“Right,” Jason says. “This is why you should never steal Bart’s protein bars. They really fuck you up the next day.”

“Jason, I’m serious.”

“So am I.” Jason shakes his head. “Bart’s metabolism isn’t something to mess around with.”

“Jason.”

The desperation must have broken through in his voice. Jason frowns at him.

“I’m… I’m not joking about this,” Tim says, rubbing his face wearily. “We’re not together in my world. I’m not sure if we’re even…”

“Even what, Tim?”

Tim pauses. “I’m not sure if we’re even friends,” Tim finishes weakly.

Jason stares at him, his frown growing more and more pronounce. Then, “Lift up your shirt.”

“Excuse me?” Tim says, folding his arms.

“Your scars,” Jason says. “Just trust me, okay?”

“Right,” Tim says, but he doesn’t move. “Trust.”

The bad word. The cursed word. Saying that things between Jason and Tim are terse in their universe would be an understatement.

They aren’t enemies, but, like Tim said before, they aren’t friends. Trust was handled on a case to case basis, usually strictly for the field, and that’s how they liked it. Other than that, they’d hardly crossed paths

It’s not like Tim can’t understand Jason’s feeling of anger and rejection—he can to a point. Resentment is an ugly, complicated, torn wound that bleeds more painfully with time, and it’s hard to discern where it spills over from Bruce and Dick to Tim at times. Tim, his replacement, whose obsessive qualities models after Bruce, and Dick, whose more like Bruce that Dick likes to admit.

Still, even if Tim understands, he’s still wary. Hard to be anything more when you’ve been someone’s emotional punching bag in the past.

Jason thins his lips, and there’s a tic in his jaw.

If Tim isn’t mistaken, Jason seems hurt.

Staggered, Tim blinks, completely blindsided.

But he couldn’t be, right? Jason would never put Tim in a position where he’d have any kind power over Jason, much less enough power to hurt him.

Then again, Tim had just woken up in Jason’s bed. This really isn’t his Jason, is it?

“Tim?” Jason asks, and this time his voice is softer.

Slowly, Tim walks closer until the fabric of his pyjamas touches the side of the bed. He lift his shirt up, but he doesn’t take it off. Having to hold it there gives Tim something to focus on, a barrier between him and the intense way Jason’s registers each mark on his skin, .

He turns around to show the scars on his back when Jason asks him to, and he can feel Jason’s gaze burning a trail on his back A promise of heat touches his skin before it quickly disappears and cold air brushes where the heat passed.

“Sorry,” Jason says. “May I?”

Tim nods, and he can feel the rough pads of Jason’s hand trace over the shape of his scars and his tight skin.

Jason’s touch is careful, Tim thinks, a little dizzy from the realisation. Almost… reverent. As if Tim is someone precious and sacred to him.

“None of these are off, not even by a millimetre,” Jason murmurs. "There's a high change you must be from our timeline then; the odds of encountering every incident in the exact same manner that it led to your scars to form identically is unbelievably small. And now that I’m thinking about it, you do look younger. What was the last thing we did in your timeline?"

Tim thinks on it. "We had an overlap on our cases," he says. "You got shot. I stitched you up, and then you cried during the first two seconds of Happy Feet while we were waiting for Cass with food.”

Jason chuckles. It’s a little strained. “That was fun,” he says. “I was in so much pain.”

It was really funny; Tim was recording a blubbery Jason extolling about the beauty of fluffy penguins until Jason had sat on him like a super heavy, violent, drug-addled cat and threatened to paint Redbird highlighter orange if Tim hadn’t deleted it.

Since Redbird is his baby, his one true pride in this bleak, desolate, depressing world, Tim had complied…

To Jason’s knowledge.

“You did?” Tim asks, surprised. “Have fun, I mean. I knew about the second bit because your voice cracked when you saw how ‘round’ and ‘soft’ the penguins were.”

“That would be,” Jason pauses, almost in surprise, and rubs his jaw with one hand, “huh, that was almost four years ago.”

“Four years ago?” Tim squawks. “How…?”

“You still have the video,” Jason says. “It took me a while, but I found it.”

Damn. And Tim thought he was so sly.

Jason chuckles at Tim’s expression. “Oh yeah, you’re not as sneaky as you think you are.”  

That was some priceless blackmail material. Tim couldn’t just delete it. He just made drug-addled Jason think he deleted it, when actually, he sent a copy to his wireless cloud and now every device in his ownership has the incriminating video.

That aside, it was the most positive interaction they’ve had in months.

Tim can hear Jason’s thoughts halting to the same stop. His mouth dips into a small grimace, and Tim’s own smile falters.

Jason sighs, and his face twists into something exhausted and worn. Even though they’re four years apart, surely Jason shouldn’t look so old.

“You’re really not my Tim, are you?” Jason asks.

Tim doesn’t have the heart to tell Jason what he already knows, especially not with the tired way Jason’s rubbing at his own face.

“God, sometimes I really hate our job,” Jason mumbles. “Guess we have a lot of work to do.”

Minutes ago, he could feel a smile forming at the edges of Jason’s mouth when he was pressing kisses into Tim’s skin, and Tim knows he means more than just sending him home.

“Yeah,” Tim says. “We really do.”

[the-sweetest-dragon]

Character Sheet

Once again, this is a reworked character because she wasn’t fleshed out as much when I first created her.  A huge thank you to @incorrectbatfamiliaquotes for helping me again.  You’ve been a huge help :)

_______________________________________________________

Full Name: Mirabella Ann Baker

Nickname: Bell

Ethnicity: American, originally from South Carolina

Birthday: April 16, 1995

Age: 25

Zodiac Sign: Aries

Basic Personality: Bell is the embodiment of southern charm.  She is warm and loving, like an angel sent from above.  Mirabella is a bit of a partier and likes to drink, which has settled a bit since she’s moved into Kaia’s apartment.  She is very open about her sexuality and enjoys the opposite sex a lot, though she has had some not so nice encounters while drunk.  

Deeper Personality:

Far too kind: will not turn anyone in need away, whether they truly need it or not.  

Really, really, enjoys the opposite sex: we love a girl who’s open about her sexuality but sometimes makes impulsive decisions when trying to secure a new man

-Once cosigned on a house with a guy only for him to turn around and break up with her HOURS after signing the deed.

-Bought another one an entire bar because he said he liked their beer the best.

Mirabella will occasionally black out and make terrible decisions.  She’s gotten a hold on it in recent months, but it still scares her every time she can’t remember the previous night.  

Best Friends:�� Kaia Dragoumis and Stephanie Brown 

Kaia was someone that was forced upon Mirabella when they were fairly young.  Their families were old friends from their college days.  When Kaia went mute, Mirabella made sure to learn ASL to be able to communicate with her, surprising Kaia greatly.  They have a great relationship.

Stephanie, Tim Drake’s wife, was introduced to Mirabella a few months before their wedding and they immediately hit it off.  They enjoy getting together for a movie night and relaxing.  Stephanie admires Mirabella’s grit and warm personality, while Bell admires the strength of Stephanie’s moral compass.  Tim is jealous of all the time Bell spends with Steph and constantly complains to Kaia about it.  

Family: Joanne Baker, Mirabella’s mother,  is a self-made billionaire with a hit fashion company.  Mirabella has no siblings and no real father figure besides her mother’s constant conquests.  Her mother has groomed her to take over the company one day, but Mirabella hates her mother because of the way she runs her company.  The company makes their clothing unethically, by using child slavery in foreign countries to make cheap clothing then turning around and making a huge profit off of bad clothing.  Mirabella is trying to take the company from her mother but was cut off at nineteen when she spoke up about how harshly Joanne treats her workers.  

Job: Mirabella is a creative girl who never went to college.  She makes money selling handmade jewelry and clothing online. 

Love Life: Mirabella prefers quick but serious relationships.  She falls in and out of love easily; very hard to keep pinned down but would love to one day settle down and raise a family.  Bell identifies as heterosexual.  

Hobbies: Bell’s hobbies include sewing, making jewelry, creating new fabrics to use for clothing and designing clothes. 

Favorite Food: Our lovely southern lady is a huge fan of oysters.  Insert gross face here.  

Favorite Color: Sunlight yellow

Political Viewpoint: Bell doesn’t really have an opinion, tries to keep herself out those types of discussions because they make her uncomfortable.

Basic Description: Mirabella is pretty in a traditional sense.  She has an adorable button nose and pretty green eyes.  Bell keeps her strawberry blonde hair in a fat braid down her back while she’s working but when she leaves the house she’ll wear it loose.  She is a tiny woman, barely five foot two, and is stick skinny.  Mirabella has a really high metabolism that makes it extremely difficult to gain weight and would love nothing more than to be able to plump up (she’s very jealous of Stephanie’s boobs).  Some part of her clothing is always covered in strings from cloth or paint, so she rarely cares about what she’s wearing.  Bell isn’t one for makeup but when she gets dressed up, she goes all out.  She speaks with a slight Southern drawl that reminds many of Kristin Chenoweth.  

Dress Sense: Mirabella likes to keep things simple, but usually wears long dresses with a sweater or a loose top and pants.  She loves heels so she feels taller.  

Favorite Song: Why Did It Have to Be Me by ABBA

Favorite Outfit: A pair of loose fitting, linen pants and a flowery yellow shirt that she made herself.  Always paired with her favorite pair of wedges.  

Short Term Goals:  Help Kaia become a lawyer and take her mother’s company from her.  

Long Term Goals: Become a successful business woman by reforming her mother’s company.  Bell would also love to settle down and raise a big family with someone she loves.  

Favorite Musical: Mamma Mia because she loves ABBA and the story is so compelling and beautiful.

Last Relationship: Mirabella’s last relationship was a mess.  He was very good looking, but also a heap of trouble.  He stole some of her valuables and sold them to pay off his gambling debts.  That was two years ago and she hasn’t had a real relationship since.  

Fears: Bell is scared of dying alone.  Her previous lifestyle got her into some trouble before, and dying was a possibility.  She regrets being so unprepared for adult life and her previous choices, so she strives to make every day as good as she possibly can.  Mirabella has a fear of heights and becoming her mother, which kind of goes along with the fear of dying alone.  

Favorite Snack:  She loves peach ring gummies.  

Fatal Flaw:  Mirabella is a yes person.  She physically can’t say no, and it’s something she has to continuously work on.  

Habits: She gnaws on her lip when she’s thinking.  Kaia has to carry multiple chapsticks in her bag for Bell’s poor chapped lips.

Life Motto: When someone says you can’t do something, do it twice and take pictures.  

Favorite Movie: The Notebook 

Prized Possession: Her first completed article of clothing, which is a mini skirt that no longer fits.  She made the fabric herself and designed it; she wore it until the seams busted. 

Religion: Bell is Baptist and goes to church every Sunday. 

Role Model: Audrey Hepburn is her role model for many reasons.  She’s classy and well educated, as well as an incredible actress.  

Favorite Book: To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

[gheckoe]

JAMES’S CURATED QUALITY FANFICTION PRIMER

for @rev0lutions-of-ruin, who tumblr does not like letting me tag

foolish bird avoids ao3 for years and misses out on the Good Shit, but it will be okay! she has THIS now. ft. DUMB LONG-WINDED CAPTAIN AMERICA MOVIE EXPLANATIONS, because i don’t think you would watch those movies willingly.

lots of selection - pick and choose, but if you don’t read “out of the dead land” i will be very sad. just treat this as really weird queer genre fiction and you’ll be alright. fics with pornographic content are marked as such, but said content is easy to skip as long as you can pick up on the warning signs.

we’re gonna start with the funny stuff.

nanananana BAT-DAD! (no ships, just bruce being a dad. safe for work and hilarious,)

who needs therapy when you have microsoft excel.

tim drake (robin 3) is a transgender teenage disaster. and bruce wayne is just generally a disaster. (same series.)

okay, now let’s get kind of sad. but not TOO sad.

nananananananana BATMAN (and superman)

this one made watching batman vs. superman worth it. not quite. but kind of. it’s fantastic.

i forget what happens in this one but i know i enjoyed it!

snk? why this, james. why this.

bad show, i know, but. formative experience. i figured out i was trans by projecting my feelings onto jean kirchstein. (not sure how, that’s just what happened.)

this one is stupidly fucking huge, in first person, and still isn’t finished.

included by virtue of some weird nostalgia. it’s half a million words long. try the first few chapters; i can’t guarantee anything that happens. don’t fucking judge me.

boring, punch me in the feelings already. more angst!

STEVEBUCKY

i don’t think you’ve watched the captain america movies, so i will explain them.

the saddest, gayest shit you will ever see. will fuck with your heart, ideally! but (as per always), skip the porn. this fandom is really big on it. UGH.

BUT it’s based off of movie adaptations of comic books, so the backstory is... ridiculous. i will summarize it for you. (tumblr ate this so here goes again)

THE DYNAMIC/history/massive goddamn ship manifesto

two guys, sitting in the great depression, two feet apart because it’s not socially acceptable to be gay

steve: tiny, blonde, always mad and big on SOCIAL JUSTICE. gets into fights for SOCIAL JUSTICE, despite growing up in the great depression when SOCIAL JUSTICE was not a commonly-known phrase or a common thing. he’s a bit of a shit, and he gets into shit. with his scrawny lil fists. he has all sorts of chronic illnesses but somehow manages to survive in a time with shitty medicine, and grow up to get into MORE shit. likes art, but is (partially?) colorblind

also he’s VERY HEAVILY coded as trans.

bucky: taller, brown hair, very popular but secretly a bit of a nerd (loves scifi, and is good at math). likes dancing, girls, and getting steve out of situations that he’s clearly over his head in and talking shit about it after. a bit of a charmer, etcetera.

there are some good fics from this era (”pre-war”) but idk where they are in my bookmarks. will update later.

so wait, what happens?

bucky gets steve out of dumb situations (like fighting a guy for talking during a movie) for pretty much all of their life. childhood friends until after high school-ish.

BUT, bucky is either drafted into the us army (it’s wwii now) or enlists, and steve is left alone in brooklyn, new york, to get into shit, without anyone to bail him out or prevent him from getting into MORE shit. so he finally manages to lie his scrawny, ill ass into the army, and (as one does) volunteers to get experimented on by the american government.

wait, what the fuck

comic books, okay. don’t @ me.

steve manages not to die! he finds a really pretty, badass lady to bisexually fawn over in the army (peggy carter is a fucking miracle), the experiments are a success and he ends up BIG and cured of all his ailments and with superfast metabolism (no alcohol) and superfast healing. he’s made it! (he basically just got really fast, unrealistic HRT hahaha)

... except the army can’t replicate the embiggening process they did with steve because the scientist that did it got killed, and steve is made into a glorified prettyman mascot to sell war bonds, instead of going to punch nazis, which he would be better at. he is a terrible mascot.

meanwhile, bucky has a shitty goddamn time in the european theatre. it’s terrible. he gets kidnapped by the EVIL SCIENCE NAZIS and put in a freaky camp and experimented on, poor guy.

you said you ship them, right? they’ve barely interacted so far, man. what the fuck.

alright alright i’m getting to it

steve the dancing monkey (in his words) is doing a Morale-Raising tour in europe for the troops and they hate it and he hates it. he discovers that... oh shit... bucky and his regiment (?) have been kidnapped by HYDRA! (the science nazis.)

naturally, he of little training MUST go save bucky, because the people that actually know how to save people know that it would be pointless to try. but steve “dumb shit” rogers will do it his own damn self. don’t @ him either. it’s the 1940s so he doesn’t have a phone.

steve will walk to austria, if he has to!... but he actually just gets a plane ride there, from peggy carter the badass and some other guy who’s not that relevant right now.

he KICKS NAZI ASS, SAVES THE PRISONERS, and MAKES MEANINGFUL EYE CONTACT WITH BUCKY ONCE HE FINDS HIM IN THE EVIL SCIENCE NAZI EXPERIMENTATION ROOM. bucky’s so out of it that he barely even tries to question why his old friend is suddenly hot  TALL.

steve and the lads walk back from austria, and he is a Bona Fide War Hero and not just a mascot. he has the stylish grime and everything. on the way, he realizes that the lads are pretty cool, and assembles a Diverse Crack Squad of Guys That Really Wanna Kill Nazis from the cool guys he just met. upon return to wherever they were earlier, steve is made a REAL CAPTAIN now, and his Diverse Crack Squad is at liberty to... go kill nazis.

bucky tags along. he is very handsome and talented at math, so he is a SNIPER and saves steve’s dumb ass (from getting shot by nazis, instead of getting punched in the face) like he used to. the Diverse Crack Squad gears up to take down THE WORST OF THE SCIENCE NAZIS, on a train in the mountains! they can change the course of COMIC BOOK WWII!

you said it was tragic. show me the tragic.

the TRAIN INFILTRATION does not go as planned, and bucky is knocked from the train and falls to his cold, painful, (presumably) death. steve can’t watch.

they catch a REALLY BAD SCIENCE NAZI, but it is a very hollow victory. steve goes and tries to get drunk in a blown-up bar where he hung out with bucky and they were really queer together.

the OTHER really bad science nazi now has a plan to BLOW UP COMIC BOOK NEW YORK! steven will NOT allow this to happen.

he’s also kind of given up on life. he has a flair for the dramatic, and also the ambiguously suicidal.

not that being ambiguously suicidal adds to the Dramatic Romance of this. it doesn’t, and that would be creepy. the point is that steve rogers has a LOT of issues, including the ones that science can’t cure.

this SPECIFIC PLANE is headed towards new york, full of explosives. steve manages to get aboard the plane... and doesn’t even try to escape. he crashes it into the water in the atlantic ocean, saying goodbye to peggy on the radio as it hits. he is also presumed dead. it’s... basically a suicide attempt.

flash forward seventy-some years.

wait, wasn’t he in the avengers?

steve rogers is found inside the frozen plane encased in ice in the ocean. he’s revived (super healing, woop) and... doesn’t say anything, because he’s really not up to expressing feelings.

he has a TERRIBLE time. all of his friends are dead or old and went about their lives without him, and he’s alone in a confusing new world. (but the food is better, vaccines are good, and no polio.) he’s not fantastic at making new friends, because, as shown by him and bucky’s entire relationship, he’s a bit of a sad introvert and just picks one person and... holds on.

blah blah avengers one blah blah, new team and fighting BAD THINGS. but steve is too angsty to make friends. he joins the new security organization that peggy founded, SHIELD, without really inspecting it that well because... he didn’t plan to be alive past flying the plane into the ice, much less in the 21st century. he doesn’t know what he’d do otherwise.

idk that sounds a little slow

he has DEPRESSION. it is a little slow. but it’ll pick up! (not emotionally.) now it’s very anti-establishment action flick. enter CAPTAIN AMERICA (2): THE WINTER SOLDIER.

steve makes a friend. actually, two! sam and natasha are wonderful, and they have some things in common. but steve obtains friendship while realizing that SHIELD is corrupt to the core and actually infiltrated by HYDRA, so he and his new friends have to... burn it to the ground. he “died” (or tried to) to stop HYDRA, and it’s still here and worse then ever. things feel pointless.

to make it worse, he’s fighting this creepily effective impersonal masked assassin on a bridge and oh fuck, oh fuck it’s bucky and didn’t he die years and years ago and his arm is METAL what happened to him, and he’s pretending not to recognize steve.

HYDRA is planning to eliminate sources of resistance for their new world order via shooting them from the air, so steve has to take one specific FLYING DEATHMACHINE down. he does, and brainwashed HYDRA bucky, the winter soldier, is there to stop him.

steve makes an appeal to emotions. “bucky stop you can’t do this”

bucky is confused, but he’s been programmed to do this.

steve tells his coworkers to JUST SHOOT THE DEATHMACHINE DOWN ALREADY, because he’s... given up again. he’s very talented at equating heroism with self-sacrifice/suicide. but he disables the DEATH part of the DEATHMACHINE without it getting shot down.

bucky has been trapped underneath a beam, but steve’s with bucky till the end of the line, even if bucky is brainwashed and lacking memories. steve drops his shield in the water and falls.

it’s another attempt to die. stop that, steve. go to therapy.

bucky doesn’t remember who he is, but he jumps after him. steve is very injured from his fight with bucky, and wouldn’t have survived the fall, but bucky drags him to shore and... leaves.

steve wakes up in the hospital with his new friend sam. they’re going to track bucky down, even if it takes forever.

ISN’T THAT FUCKED UP? isn’t that sad? it’s terrible. now, fics. most of them are after ca:tws, because that’s when the ship got popular. a lot of them center around Finding Bucky and Getting To Know Him Again.

there’s a lot of sappy sad let’s-teach-bucky-how-to-be-a-person-again-and-get-steve-to-be-less-sad but i like the ones that are like sad action movies, or sad queer movies, and less like sad romance movies. my bookmarks are a mess, so here’s the best stuff i could dredge up.

out of the dead land: this one kills me every single time. there’s something terribly cinematic about it. but, as fandom is wont to do, there’s porn near the end. skip that part. ew. it’s an introspective scifi action epic, with just enough identity issues to make you want to cry! READ IT, IT’S IMPORTANT.

this: alternate universe, sans steve “dying.” epistolary. sad, as far as i can remember. (i’d rec the rest of this series but i think it’s best if you read this one first?)

courtroom/media fic. what if the winter soldier got arrested after the movie? (cap fandom does this kind of fake-media thing very well. i just reread it. it’s still good.)

this one isn’t exactly groundbreaking, but it’s a different take on the fandom’s typical post-winter soldier bucky interpretation. quite short, 100% safe for work.

in this one, steve successfully gets drunk, makes some friends, and gains some coping skills. good for dark humour. there’s porn somewhere but i’m sure it’s easily skippable, otherwise i wouldn’t have bookmarked it. not 100% the best thing every but it’s pretty fun.

if you aren’t team s/b all the way then we can’t be friends, but here’s some other marvel stuff i guess

lesbians, ballet, feelings? it’s a rarepair but it’s pretty lovely. au, no background knowledge required. basically a beautiful indie film that’s kind of oscar-bait. you will like this one, i think. there’s probably porn somewhere.

trans black widow. (that chapter only, not sure what the rest is). not very well-written and i have terrible memory but i’m 75% sure it made me cry.

ENJOY! or try to. don’t feel obligated to. but please at least TRY out of the dead land, it is groundbreaking.