#my body looks like a linebacker and i hate it but at least i’m hot

[zacc-attacc]

Kissing In The Snow: A Javid Fic

This fic is lowkey shit and I might literally post a new one to apologize for this, but have it anyway!

Final Word Count: 3.2k

Triggers: There’s a bit of an anxiety attack, and a reference to self-harm. I put an * before the attack and bolded the self-harm reference so you stay safe! Love you nerds!

The plan was originally to drive through the night. After all, it was a long-term trip, and we both had a pretty uncanny ability to stay awake. Since we had two drivers, we could switch roles every now and again. But we only made it until a few hours after dark. 

I knew there would be snow. After all, especially around New York, there was always snow during late December. But that… That was the type of storm that we hadn’t seen in years. The only time I think I had ever seen that much snow was when my family had traveled to Canada and they were hit with a snow storm. It was magical as a kid in a warm, safe cabin. But now, as an adult, driving on a dark road with the life of my best friend in my hands, it was downright terrifying. 

Jack wasn’t fully asleep when I started to consider pulling over. After all, it was only around 10 PM, meaning he was in the dozing part of the night. It was just dark enough that he couldn’t sketch in his physical notebook, and he had put in his earbuds to try and drift off. He had offered to drive, since he was sure I was sleepy from waking up at 5 AM to pack, but I assured him that I was wide awake. And I really was. Slamming three Bang Energy drinks in the span of two hours would do that to a guy. 

Snowflakes had started to fall about an hour ago. They were small ones, barely making a dent in our view. But the longer I drove, the bigger they got. Bigger, thicker, and falling faster. I knew that if I was outside, I would be soaked within three seconds. 

The wind howled, not for the first time, whistling around the car and nudging it slightly across the icy road in an attempt to push us off. I could feel my anxiety rising as I frantically tried to keep the car on the road while staying calm, but something must have tipped Jack off, because he sat up from where he was curled by the window, stared at the weather, and looked at me with shock on his face. 

“Jesus, Dave, it’s crazy out there!” 

I felt my hands that I hadn’t even realized were clenching the wheel loosen at the sound of his voice. Despite the fact that I had just been talking on and off with him for seven hours, his voice still had a strange habit of making the world seem less terrible. Especially when paired with his eyes, wide, hazel-y green, and worried. 

“Yeah,” I said, hearing that my voice was significantly higher than it usually was. 

“Should we… Pull over? Find somewhere to stay for the night? We can’t sleep in the car, you’ll freeze-”

“I’ll freeze? Last I checked I’m not the only one who can contract hypothermia,” I cut him off, smiling internally at the ‘Mama bird’ side that was revealing itself (a side that normally only showed in dire situations or when one of their friends were injured).

“Yeah, but you’re a string bean. Nothing to you,” Jack pointed out. This was true, but only when compared to him. As the linebacker for Northwestern University’s football team, he had enough muscle on him to pass for a professional bodybuilder. It was funny that he was a football player while also majoring in art, while compared to the other players with their business and accounting majors. I knew he secretly hated the team, but he was playing football for the scholarship to put him through school, so it was either play or starve. Obviously, he chose to play.

I tried to take a left turn, starting to slope softly almost 50 feet away in order to be able to make the turn. It was still almost too much for the car, causing me to need to break completely to avoid hitting a sign that read Joanna’s Nightly Cabins and Bunks, 10 mi. 

I felt my entire body tighten as I tried to steer  without adding any additional momentum to our car careening across the ice. The tires were locked in place, and still sliding like the world’s most dangerous hockey puck. Jack had stopped talking, and was holding his breath right along with me as we continued to slide. Once we finally stopped, I put my head down on the steering wheel and tried not to cry from a simultaneous feeling of adrenaline and relief. 

*********

I was shaking, harder than I had in a long time. I felt Jack’s strong, warm hand on my back, an anchor. He knew how my attacks worked, since he had seen me through middle and high school. They happened a lot less now, but that didn’t make them any better when they did hit, like a freight train of emotion and a loss of control. Where my lungs decided to say “I can’t do this anymore,” and stopped wanting to work. Where my face felt like it was set on fire, and my eyes were watering and I tired to keep everything under control but it all felt so hard and my thoughts were rushing and my heart was pounding in my ears and-

“It’s okay, Davey,” his low voice muttered. 

Davey. 

That damn nickname. The one only he had ever called me. 

He was leaning over the gear stick now to hug me, pinning my arms to my side (I had… Old habits) He was rocking, his hand on my heart as he counted the beats with me, whispering into my ear. 

“Five, six, seven, eight…”

**********

Once we got to sixty, I had calmed down a bit. I could breathe now, at least, and I had stopped crying. 

“I think I’ll drive us the rest of the way. Is that okay, Dave?” Jack murmured. He was still holding onto me tightly, as if I could break at any moment. 

“Yeah,” I said, my voice sounding worn like it always did after an attack. 

The moment I felt him pull away, I missed him. After all, he really was quite warm, and there was a winter storm outside. At least, that’s what I tried to tell myself. 

I opened the car door, and heard Jack do the same behind me. The road was icy, icier than we should have been driving on. Then again, I guess that was kind of the whole reason we were dipping out rather than driving through the night. 

As we were walking, I could feel my Timberlands beginning to lose the battle between gravity and friction. I looked up in an attempt to keep my balance, and saw Jack begin to topple. I instinctively reached out my arm to catch him, and we both spun in some strange, ice dance to keep our balance. Finally, Jack slapped the hood of the car to tether us both, hard enough that the alarm started to beep, shattering the night with its high tones.

Jack looked at me, and down at my arm, which I just noticed had somehow snaked around his waist in the struggle. I dropped it quickly, feeling my face heat up despite the snow, smiling awkwardly. Jack just patted my shoulder, and began to chuckle. A soft, not full-blown laugh at the situation. I found myself laughing right along with him. 

His laughter had always been contagious. 

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“This is delux,” Jack grinned, unrolling his travel blanket onto the singular bunk bed. Joanna’s Nightly Cabins and Bunks turned out to be a dingy collection of cabins owned by an old woman looking to make a buck and offer hospitality to travelers. 

“I’m glad you pulled over, you’ll catch your death in that type of storm,” Joanna said from the doorway, making sure we had enough blankets and brain cells to survive the night. The cabin was small, with a few bunks lining the walls. There was a hot plate on top of a little fridge, but the electricity had been kicked out from the storm, meaning those were both rendered useless. There was an oak door leading to what I guessed was a bathroom, and a light rattling sounding above us for what I assumed was the heating.

“Thank you for having us for free, ma’am,” Jack said for the eight billionth time that night. Joanna just tossed her head back in a light laugh. 

“A sweet couple like you, and three days before Christmas no less? It’s no problem, really. I’m all for holiday cheer. Have a good night, you two,” Joanna said, turning and winking behind her shoulder as she walked away. I made eye contact with Jack, and noticed that he was blushing just as much as I was. We waited a few minutes to make sure Joanna was completely gone to continue unpacking. 

“How many times has that happened now?” I asked, hanging Jack’s scarf over a vent so it could dry overnight. 

“What?” Jack said, turning from making his bunk to look at me, his brow furrowed in confusion. 

“We had a list of all the times… People thought we were dating. Back in high school, remember?” I smiled slightly at the memory, thinking back to all the time we used to spend with each other in high school. 

No one was surprised when we went to the same college, since we had spent so much of high school half joint at the hip. Even our mutual friends were convinced we were secretly dating. It happened enough times that one day, Jack whipped out a notebook and wrote down all the times we could think of being asked. We just kept adding, until college happened and… I honestly don’t know what happened to the notebook. 

“Oh, yeah, that! I think Medda tossed it out on accident… But we have our memories, right?” Jack said, regret flashing in his eyes. I just smiled at him sadly.

“Yeah. So, what time should we get going in the morning?”

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was probably midnight when I heard a loud, metallic bang. 

I sat up sharply, scrambling out of the sheets to make sure that Jack hadn’t hit his head and died from the top bunk. 

“Dave, you okay?” Jack asked, glancing at me from his mattress. 

“Did you hear that?” I questioned, gesturing to the ceiling where I had heard the bang. 

“What?” 

“Some sort of bang… I think the heater went out,” I said, suddenly realizing I couldn’t hear the rattle of the heating anymore. 

“...Shit. Should we get Joanna?” Jack asked. There was a beat of silence as we made eye contact, and it dawned on me that neither of us wanted to wake up this poor old woman to tell her.

This is the height of being gen z. I thought, realizing how screwed we were. 

“It… It’ll probably be fine,” I stammered, sitting back on my bunk. The air was already getting colder, and the wind howled against the cabin. 

“...Get over here. You ain’t getting hypothermia on my watch,” Jack said, rolling his eyes and gesturing to himself. I felt my face heat up for what seemed like the umpteenth time that night. 

“A- are you sure that you’re-”

“Oh, can it Jacobs. I don’t need your sister sicced on me because I didn’t do what I could to make sure you survived the night,” Jack pointed out, sounding mildly annoyed. I would’ve been more convinced if I didn’t see that he was also blushing, and had that look… That weird look he got when he was looking at a pretty girl or guy.

This is totally platonic. I reminded myself, climbing the ladder while holding my blankets. Jack nodded at me, tossing all of our blankets over the two of us. 

I didn’t think I would be able to sleep with him right there, but something about his body heat and the crashing energy drinks was enough to lull me to sleep…

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Davey, you still sleeping?” Jack whispered. My eyes snapped open, and the events of the previous night hit me like a truck. I turned to look at Jack, who was still laying down beside me. 

“Yeah,” I croaked. Jack nodded, and I felt him draw away from me. 

Wait, away? 

It was only then that I realized how close we are. 

And that my head had been practically laying on his chest. 

“Sorry,” I muttered, shifting away from him. 

“It’s okay. Warmth, y’know,” Jack said gruffly, sitting up. I scooched away from him  and climbed down the ladder, the cold air piercing my skin. 

“We should get going soon… I’m sure Medda is ready to have my head for having you out on a night like that,” I pointed out, dashing to the assorted vents that had our assorted winter wear, half-dried. 

“She could never, Dave, you know she prefers you,” Jack grinned, rolling his eyes.

“Well, she adopted you,” I pointed out. “She must’ve liked you enough to want you in her life forever.” 

“She once threatened to take away my dessert privileges if we ever stopped talking,” Jack said, deadpan.

“Those brownies are no joke. I’m glad you were able to put up with me,” I chuckled. 

“I don’t put up with you, Jacobs,” Jack said, self-deprecation seeping into his words. I stopped re-packing, and crossed the room to talk to him, being sure to drive my point home.

“Neither of us put up with one another, kay?” 

“I- damn, Dave, makin’ us have a moment here,” Jack said, red creeping up his face. I stepped back, apologizing under my breath. 

“No, no, it’s fine. You always had more of an emotional range then I did,” Jack shrugged, regret tainting his words. 

A few minutes later, we were packed. Jack and I both had our jackets, scarves, mittens and hats on. 

“I got it,” I said, grabbing the doorknob and pushing. 

It didn’t budge. Not even a centimeter. I shook the door, throwing my weight onto it to the best of my ability. 

“Let me try,” Jack said, grabbing my hand around the knob. I felt a sharp shock, and felt my heart kick into overdrive, pounding in my ears. 

His hands were soft. 

Jack was still struggling with the door, jiggling it aggressively.

“Its just a bit… Frozen,” Jack grunted, slamming the door with all of his linebacker strength. The door flew open, a few healthily sized pieces of ice spaying onto the fine bed of snow.

Jack had opened a door to a winter wonderland. Due to its remote location, Joanna’s Nightly Cabins and Bunks was peak stock photo winter. 

The trees were frosted with white, like they were some sort of cake, or one of Jack’s drawings. There was a big, sprawling field with a few snow dusted cabins. The main house Joanna lived in was mostly cleared (we assumed she had cleared it herself… somehow), but by far the most shocking part was-

“Oh shit, my car,” Jack said, attempting to run across the lawn to the snow-covered lump that was his vehicle. This didn’t work well, since there was almost several feet of snow covering the ground. He had only made it about 10 feet when he collapsed into the drift, his legs having been unable to fight the snow. 

I found myself half-laughing, despite being mildly worried as I helped him up. 

“We are so screwed, Davey,” Jack said, his brow furrowing as his Manhattan twang set into his words. That’s how I knew he was really worried- his accent only set in when he was drunk, sick, angry, or stressed.

“It’ll be fine, I’ll call a plow, or a tow… We’ll find some way out of here,” I assured him, holding him by the waist so he wouldn’t fall. He leaned into me, obviously not against me touching him. Well, really it was his coat, but it still felt nice. 

“How long do you think it’ll take?” Jack asked. I could feel my phone vibrating in my coat pocket, probably the boys and our families asking where we are. 

“I dunno… I might as well call now,” I shrugged, pulling out my phone and tapping on Google to find the number. 

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“Thank you… Goodbye,” I said, just about to hang up when a powdery, cold something hit my back. I swiveled around to see none other than Jack, a small arsenal of snowballs beside him.

“Oh, you did not just-” 

“I did, Jacobs,” he grinned maniacally. I narrowed my eyes at him.

“You’re on!” I shouted, frantically grabbing snow and packing it into a solid ball. The snow was perfect for snowball fights, just the right texture. And I was wearing gloves, so it wouldn’t stick to any yarn on my mittens. 

Jack pelted me with a snowball, hitting my shoulder with a solid thwack! I pretended to fall from the shock of the hit, then rolled towards him, tossing a ball at his neck. It hit him slightly above his collar bone, and I heard him laugh evilly as he ran towards me. 

“YOU’VE MADE A MISTAKE FROM CHALLENGING ME, DAVEY JACOBS!” He yelled, attempting to grab me. I rolled away, standing above him with my superior five inches, and began to dodge snowballs, left and right while making my own. 

“JOKES ON YOU, I LEARNED FROM THE MASTER-- SARAH JACOBS!” I screeched, hitting him in the head with a snowball. 

“BUT I WENT AGAINST THE GREAT RACETRACK HIGGINS!” he objected, hitting my left arm.

“WHO LEARNED FROM SARAH JACOBS!” I shot back, hitting his lower thigh.

“AH, BUT YOU ARE NOT HER!” he pointed out, dashing away again in an attempt to confuse me.

“YES, BUT I AM HER BROTHER!” I said, dodging a ball from my right.

“THE MORE WATERED-DOWN VERSION, I SEE!” he shouted, attempting to dodge a ball coming for his torso and failing.

“OHO, YOU ARE GOING TO PAY FOR THAT!” I yelled, smiling like a fool and running towards him to the best of my ability. He grinned darkly, and I realized my mistake. 

I was attempting to tackle a college football player. First string. 

Before I could even comprehend how terrible of an idea it was to try and tackle a football player as an English major with limited athletics experience, I was on the ground and- 

His lips were on mine. 

Too passionately to be accidental. 

His hand had somehow made its way to my back, and he was holding me like he had in the night. And… It felt right. More real and right and perfect then I thought it would.

I grabbed his face so I could feel him closer. Though I think a part of me knew it would never feel close enough. 

He was doing this thing, I think to keep us warm, where he was rubbing up and down my back to keep the heat. And he kept letting me pull him closer while we just laid there, kissing in the snow.

Kissing in the snow. A romantic concept, one that lovesick teens would only dream of doing. Kissing two days before Christmas. Kissing like it wasn’t the end of the world, like we had all the time in the world. Kissing my best friend. Kissing the man who knew how to get me back when I was drifting. 

Kissing in the snow. Because sometimes, snow and too much time wasted away from each other was enough to make a teenage dream come true. 

And maybe I was okay with a winter teenage dream. 

I was okay with kissing in the snow.

#newsies #newsies the broadway musical #newsies fanfiction #fanfiction #musical theatre fanfiction #musical theatre #jack kelly #davey jacobs #snow #winter #christmas #christmas fic #writing #gay #lgbt #snowed in #cute #otp #javid #jack x davey #jack kelly x david jacobs #jack kelly x davey jacobs #dice writes

[soupsandwichpizza]

My Mistake

“You know you’re going to make a really ugly woman, right?”

 The cold of the mountain air combined with the speed of my Harley was making it difficult to move my fingers on the levers for the clutch and brake. One of the first curves I’d encountered on my way up this mountain had shown me gravel strewn across the middle yellow line as my headlight illuminated it in the curve and now, I was being cautious. But it was only getting colder and I knew from experience on this mountain that if I didn’t want to spend the night up here, I’d better get back down to warmer weather, fast! When the car in front of me got out of the way, it was time to open the throttle. I knew that I was pushing myself to the extreme when my boot heels were scraping the asphalt and I was barely able to hold my bike in my lane. Now, finally, I was being forced to concentrate to the exclusion of everything else. My troubled mind was forced to think about my survival instead of the pain. Until I made it off the mountain at least. The air was warmer, thicker with oxygen, heavy with moisture. But it seemed like no matter how much I challenged myself, a voice in my head just wouldn’t shut up.

 “You know you’re going to make a really ugly woman, right?”

 Earlier…

Pride. I wasn’t feeling it this year. Too many fucked up things had happened to me recently, things that made it difficult for me to have any pride in being transgender, in being a member of the LGBT+ community. I’d been considering letting the event pass while I was home with a bottle of whiskey in my hand like I’d done last year. But I went because I had a friend to go with me and because I knew some other friends would be there, and, well shit… I didn’t have anything else to do. It actually ended up being a pretty good day, and I had worked out of my funk a bit. I was having fun and enjoying the event. And that’s when I saw something that I absolutely fell in love with, a bikini top done in “scale mail” (small metal plates), in the colors of the transgender flag. I REALLY wanted it! I got the impression that the seller REALLY wanted to sell it, I didn’t realize until much later that it was probably a white elephant to them.

I hemmed and hawed a lot, I knew I shouldn’t be buying it. I knew that this was going to be an impulse purchase and given that I’d maxed out almost all of my credit recently, this WAS NOT a good idea. My friends weren’t helping, egging me on because they knew that I really loved it. In the end, I caved like an old wild west movie’s mine explosion and tunnel collapse scene. And because they knew they had a sucker on the line, they threw in a pair of matching earrings. I was hot in my shirt, I had a bra on underneath, and well, this was Pride dammit! I took off my shirt right there and put it on! I should have known my mistake when the saleswoman helping me started telling me what I should buy to extend the ties in back. It didn’t click. Thankfully, I didn’t walk around that way for long, it was pretty much the end of the day for me and my friends.

 “You know you’re going to make a really ugly woman, right?”

 I got back to my apartment and as soon as my ex/roommate saw me with this metal on my chest, she started in with the requests to show her what I’d bought. I’d put my jacket back on for the trip home, so I proceeded to put my things down, take off the jacket, and show her my new bikini top. She laughed. I said something about it, and she told me that she was laughing at the fact that I bought something like it, not about how I looked.

I know better.

One of the things that people can’t seem to realize is that I am FAR more sensitive to the subtleties of human behavior than you could possibly imagine! I KNOW when someone disapproves of me or my behavior. I KNOW when someone is uncomfortable around me. I KNOW when you use words to cover your initial reaction to me. I KNOW when I’m not accepted. I KNOW when you laugh AT me. I KNOW when you’re making fun of me.

I KNOW. EVERYTHING. YOU. THINK. ABOUT. ME. …and quite a few things that have nothing to do with me. Your body language is like reading a book.

I had to develop this ability to sense your true emotions. It’s a survival trait for me. Not knowing if someone accepts me or not, was a life and death situation when I was growing up. If I trusted the wrong person, or was in the wrong crowd, well, getting beaten down was the least of my worries. I was afraid of dying. I was afraid of being murdered. When you are THAT afraid, every day, all the time, you develop some skills to help you with that. So, I can read you like a book, it’s like I look inside you and you can’t hide from me. I know what you feel, when you feel it, and why. Even when you don’t. When you think you are hiding your emotions from me? Ha. Yeah, right. Let me tell you what you’re feeling, how you’re going to react, and what you’re planning to do next. …no, I’m not kidding. If I don’t know you as well, yeah, you get a pass on some things. But if we’ve known each other and spent time together more than a dozen times over a year? I probably got your number….

 SHE. LAUGHED.

 She laughed at me. Not with me. Not because of something I’d done.

 SHE. LAUGHED. AT. ME.

 My ex. My roommate.

 “You know you’re going to make a really ugly woman, right?”

 Those words, that sentence, sealed the fate of my marriage. This was spoken to me when I’d only ever come out to one person, my ex. She said them to me in a moment of weakness I’m sure. She was, after all, losing her husband. But I’m Demisexual and without a connection, trying to be intimate with someone is like offering myself up to a molester or a rapist. So, when she uttered those words to me, when she betrayed my trust in her acceptance of me as a trans woman, that’s when my connection to her was severed.

I tried to not let that be true. I desperately wanted it to not be true. The agony of what I was going through and how I felt like I was losing her was a regular occurrence when I went to my therapist. And I begged my ex to get into therapy as well, either with me or without me. But no matter how many times I asked, no matter how much I begged, she never did. Even now, years later, she won’t do it. She wouldn’t do it for me, she wouldn’t do it for our relationship, and she won’t do it for herself. So, our connection remained severed. And “we” ceased to be.

In that moment of laughter, I saw it in her yet again. Whether she sees me as a woman or not is irrelevant. Because what she sees is laughable, ridiculous, and worthy of being mocked.

I went into my bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror, yup, I looked like shit! But I thought, maybe it was because I was wearing my bra up underneath it? I took it off and, in the process, realized that the straps to tie it in the back were so short, they almost wouldn’t reach enough to tie it. I persisted though. I’d just paid a small fortune for this piece and by all the gods above and below, I was going to look halfway decent in the damn thing!

Once I had my bra off, the bikini top on and adjusted, it did look better on me. But, as they say in the south, “If you put a dress on a pig, it’s still a pig.” You see, I’d gotten to feeling so good that I’d forgotten one of the cardinal rules for being a trans woman who started transition late in life. NEVER wear anything that shows more than legs, arms, and MAYBE belly, if you’re skinny. But wearing a bikini top? It’s the worst of the worst things for someone like me to wear. My chest is at least ten inches wider than it should be. Even if you ignore the shoulders like a linebacker, the width of my chest causes the blessing of my B cup breasts to look more like A cup, probably less. So, what does that look like? Yup, it looks like a man wearing a bikini top and makeup.

That’s probably why she laughed at me.

I’ve learned that there are some things that I have an instinct for and that I should just do them when the mood strikes me. In that moment I knew that I had to leave, I had to clear my mind, I had to get away. If I didn’t, my depression would overtake me, and I’d be in crisis again. I changed quickly, putting on my riding gear, checking the weather to be sure the thunderstorms had passed, and grabbing my cold weather stuff. As fast as I could, I was out the door and firing up my bike. Having no particular destination in mind, I set my GPS for a favorite spot in the mountains that didn’t get much traffic. I’d been there many times, but I’d never taken my Harley up there and I knew the road was insanely curvy. I knew it was getting late, but I’d ridden in the dark and cold many times before.

What I hadn’t done was ride in the dark and cold to the top of a mountain in the Rockies. But I didn’t care, I often don’t these days, because I really don’t have many reasons to care.

 “You know you’re going to make a really ugly woman, right?”

 I used to hate every aspect of my body and I never wore anything less than a tee shirt and jeans outside my home. With transition, with HRT, with surgeries, I’d begun to be okay with how I look. I’d started to want to show myself off a bit more, even if I was overweight and needing to lose thirty or forty pounds. So, my expensive, impulse purchase of a metal bikini top was my attempt to feel… feminine, cute, desirable, and maybe, just a little more comfortable in my own skin. And now it’s hanging in my closet, I expect it will stay there until the day that I get sick of looking at it and I throw it out. Because I can’t see any of my friends wanting to wear it either. There are limits to modern medical science, and they don’t have a surgery that can fix this one. So, yet again I’m reminded that I’m never going to look right, I had forgotten that.

My mistake.

#SoupSandwichPizza #AllTheRiskAndLittleReward #UglyAsIKnowIAm #SpentAFortuneToFeelOkay #DressOnAPig

[unplcnned-variable]

Trans RvB Week - Tuesdayyyyy~!

I was really worried I wouldn’t get this out XD.

Characters: Dick Simmons, unnamed side-characters

Word Count: 587

Warnings: Canon-typical swearing, implied transphobia

I’m putting this under a cut due to implied / mentions of transphobia. Please be warned, read at your own discretion.

“Danaaaaaaa, move!” Aware of the sudden noise, Simmons shifted himself to the side a bit. He faintly acknowledged his friend's presence as she promptly sat down beside him and a few other companions of his. “So, which on is your brother?” one of them queried. “Uh... The one with 36 on his back.” Simmons pointed to one of the linebackers of their team, a tall, muscled being of a man. One of his friends made a cooing sound, leaning back in her seat. Another whistled, much to Simmons' discomfort. “Excuse my language, but damn, your brother is hot~!” the one that had forced him out of his earlier seat exclaimed, pressing one hand to her rosy-red lips. Simmons' eyes followed his brother for a moment before falling down to look at his own body, noting the differences. The chest size, the shape of the waist, hair length. Things like that. He looked back out at his brother, wondering what it was like to have a body like that. Probably amazing. He wouldn't have to wear a bra, he wouldn't have to wear dresses. He could cut his hair and his parents wouldn't yell. For some reason, he found himself loving the idea of living in a body more like his brothers. He barely even noticed the wide grin bursting on his face until a friend pointed it out. “Uh, Dana? What's the grin for?” his friend crowed, making a disgusted face. Simmons' smile wiped from his face as he shot to face his friend, stammering something about “I was just thinking- I was just-” His friend cut him off with a cackle, slapping a hand onto his shoulder. “So, Dana, what were you thinking about? That cute guy in the front?” she gestured to the field. Simmons glanced down at the field, unsure if he should even tell the truth. Taking a leap of faith, he inhaled, and spoke. “I dunno, I just- I mean, wouldn't it be cool to have a body like that?” a ghost of a smile wandered onto his face, as he glanced back to his friend, hoping for a smile in return. He never got one. Instead, he got a stern glare. After a moment, it turned into a giggling mess of a face, his friend, rocking back and forth in her laughter and drawing the attention of his other 'friends'. “What's up?” “What's so funny?” they asked. “Dana thinks that having a dude's body would be cool!” she chortled, getting  snort out of some of his friends. “Seriously, Dana, are you like... Y'know... Trans?” Something caught it Simmons' throat, a wave of realization washing over him. Or at least, he thought so. This was certainly something he had to think about. “Dana...?” His mind was a mess. He couldn't be trans. His family would kill him. His friends would disown him. He'd get kicked out. He wouldn't have anywhere to go. “Dana, girl-” “No- No, I'm not, I just- I just thought that maybe- I don't know-” he sputtered out, the lie leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. A relieved, awkward laugh circulated through the group. “Thank God, Dana, girl, don't freak us out like that!!” someone chuckled. “Yeah- Yeah, I, I won't.” He hated lying about this. But he guessed he didn't have another choice right now. Besides, he had other things to worry about. What the fuck was he going to tell his parents.

#trans rvb week #profanity #transphobia #tw transphobia #trans simmons #red vs blue #please notify me if I've missed a tag #seriously I've never written something like this and I hope it doesn't violate any rules #seriously if you want me to tag anything else in this post #just tell me fam #my writing

[secondhand-sheep-shack]

I Did It!

I hit another milestone/goal for my weight loss. And stupidly this one means more than the others even the big 65# from starting weight.  I vowed to myself (and one other person) the week of Christmas that I was going to hit my next big milestone by Valentine’s day.  I wasn’t at all sure I was going to hit this one. These last 53 days have been stressfilled and there’s been many days I didn’t eat right (or at all). Mix in headaches and knee shit keeping me from doing more than just flat surface walking. I was worried.  I know the guys aren’t going to get why this is a big deal - unless they go shopping for their wives/girlfriends but let me be giddy and you can go on ignoring me. But ladies are going to understand that being able to buy things you haven’t been able to even look at in a few months (years) that are pretty is really fucking important - even if we say it’s not. I know it isn’t a huge goal but my little personal win - was to hopefully be down not one not two but 3 sizes in some clothing (specifically panties, pants and shirts) by Valentine’s day.  V-day is tomorrow. I didn’t do measurements beforehand. I had $20 to go buy myself a new outfit. I braved Walmart (don’t hate I’m only semi-employed and the only place that sells clothes near me that isn’t walmart is out of my price range and sells things in sizes like 00 and 000A (which I swear fits toddlers). But I vowed I’d either be in pants that I own that would fall off - or I’d be down 3 sizes. I vowed I’d be down from a 4x men’s shirt (note I haven’t dropped down in shirt sizes since I started this weight loss because it’s winter and layering is important and I’m again broke) to a 3x womens or a 2x men’s t-shirt. And the big one I’d be down to single digits in panty sizes. I’m sure someone’s reading this thinking TMI - hey at least I didn’t brave putting pictures up. (though there are pictures - and if you ask I might let you see some of them). I hit every goal. Every single one of them. I’m going to fix the pants I have because none of the ones I found tonight were anything I liked. And I bravely bought panties that were 3 sizes smaller. *gulp* and then I put them on. And holy fucking shit they fit! If you followed me for any length of time you know I’m about being happy about your body - but being willing to work to improve it. Real body positivity, not the fat is perfect stuff but real happy change. Being able to buy panties that come in something other than “brief” or “nylon brief” is fucking awesome! Being able to get them home and have them fit without cutting off blood flow to the legs is even more fucking awesome.  I’m not brave enough to put pics of me up here...yet. Someday - maybe.  But I have friends who I trust won’t steer me wrong or hate on me because I’m still on the high end of curvy. I’ve lost hips and abs but my ass and tits haven’t moved. For which I’m rather grateful. Finding I’m going to need a new knee brace is probably the best news of all. I no longer need the custom one I had made because my quads were the size of a linebackers [3 years post-op].  I haven’t ventured near the scale. I wouldn’t be surprised if the number is up but it means I”m converting some of this flab into muscle. Even if all I’m doing is hauling cat litter and garbage and walking the store at work and walking around the block at work and when it’s not 40 and freezing walking the mile around the resort. The full walk is 2.75 miles. That’s my mid-spring goal before it gets stupid hot out.  The even better news - my FNP did a full blood panel - I’m no longer severely anemic. I’m no longer severely vitamin D deficient. I am still mildly anemic and still slightly D deficient but the numbers are improving. My cholesterol isn’t due to be re-checked until my birthday. Given the outstanding numbers from last time she said I don’t have to worry [yes there’s a story if you want it It’s a medical story I’ll happily share because I’m weird]. And my pulse was a happy 59 while waiting and my bp was 80/65 even when she took it - which is normal for me. “you’re the healthiest person I see in town.”  I’ll take it. And I’ll keep going. Because I’m still not happy with myself. Happier. But not ideal.  (if you want stories or *gulp* even if you want pictures - send a message, the latter is entirely at my discretion, being a medical weirdo I don’t mind sharing because sometimes it’s nice to know there’s others out there with the same fucked up issue).

#my goals #weight loss #mine #Valentine's goal #new clothes

[masteroftherebels]

It’s an Economic Downturn, Timmy

Happy Birthday @generatorcat! Yay for 23!!! You are one of my favorite authors in this fandom and I wanted to show some appreciation!!  I hope you have a fabulous day and that this little piece can possibly get you off to a great start! <33

(S/O to @drabblemeister for being my cheerleader when my self-esteem is feeling especially delicate haha ilu)

AO3 Link

Pairing: JayTim (mentioned CassieKon)

Rating: T, for discussion of mature themes

Word Count: 3.7k

~~~

As far as first impressions went, Tim’s was sudden, unwarranted, and above all, intensely embarrassing. In fact, he might even go so far as to say that never in his life had his mind been so utterly at odds with his body. If he could have redone a single moment in his life over again, he never would have woken up today. Instead, he would have slept in, skipped class, and been blissfully ignorant of the way the life of his unlucky doppelganger from an alternate universe changed so dramatically in the space of ten seconds.

Because let’s be real for a moment here; getting a hard on out of nowhere because the new TA did nothing more than walk into Econ 405 and run his fingers through his hair while he introduced himself , literally nothing else, was possibly, probably, most definitely the epitome of humiliation.

“I’m so screwed.”

Drips of deeply mocking laughter fell on his unprotected ears as Tim ground his forehead into the cafeteria lunch table in an effort to scrub the memories from his skull. Beside him, Cassie nearly choked on a forkful of mac-n-cheese as she took pure enjoyment in what was sure to be just the beginning of the inevitable demise of his final undergraduate year.

“More like you wish you were!” Cassie managed to get out in a normal tone before her attempt at calm fully dissolved right back into hysterical guffaws, and Tim had to cling to the tabletop to keep from falling to the linoleum when her mirth came out as a rough punch to his arm.

Across the table, Steph did her absolute worst impression of supportive friend, face going red as she struggled to slow her breathing, lest she join Cassie in her amusement.  Tim snarled at her, just daring her to let even a giggle out, but the threat was empty and the effort as effective as a kitten spitting at a rottweiler; Steph lost it.  “T-Tim, your f-face!” Her cheeks went even more red as she laughed so hard, all sound and air escaped her.

Much to his personal dismay, he’d run into Steph only a few minutes after he’d left The ClassTM and was still recovering, dammit, which is how he’d found himself in his current predicament to begin with.  She’d insisted he join her for lunch – let’s just talk, Tim, you seem stressed – but it was a trap.  A Cassie-shaped trap.

The second moment in his life that he would much prefer a do-over for was ever thinking it would be a good idea to hand feed Cassie the single, most galling thing that had ever happened to him and expect her to be a sympathetic friend about it.  He knew he should have held out until he had Steph alone.  At least then there might have been ice cream and terrible Whodunnit? episodes to soften the blow of being laughed at.

“This isn’t funny!” He hissed at the girls, shoving back at Cassie, the girl barely budging an inch. She smirked at his wasted effort to move her, and Tim’s glare morphed into an incensed scowl.”Freaking bodybuilder,” Tim muttered irritably, only causing Cassie’s smile to grow.

“Tim.”

He cast a wary glance at Cassie and tried to lean back when she dropped a hand on his shoulder.

“You popped a woody because some dude flipped hair out of his face.” A snort of laughter ripped out of Steph for a moment before she could fully contain it, and Tim slapped Cassie’s hand away.

“I know that !  Stop reminding me!” Tim groaned, smacking his hands over his face and dragging them down until the skin pulled below his eyes.  “This year was supposed to be easy—”

“Just like you, apparently,” Steph supplied helpfully.

“Shut up!” Tim whipped his head towards her, only to recoil when he found her right in his face, sprawled halfway across the table with a wicked grin splitting her lips.

“How did you even get out of class without anyone seeing?  Did you have to take a detour to the little boy’s room?” Tim’s face flushed scarlet at the mere memory of the way he’d performed a speedy shuffle of shame out the door and straight to the nearest bathroom, his bookbag clutched fiercely in front of his traitorous crotch.  He hadn't even bothered to collect the syllabus for the semester, afraid that closer proximity to the new TA might induce a bout of spontaneous combustion.

“Relax, Tim, we’re just messing with you.” Cassie waved away his stammering.  “She’s totally kidding.”

“Of course I am,” Steph settled back into her chair.  “It’s not like you actually had to ‘take care of things’.  Though that would be hilarious.”

“I—” Tim didn’t know where to start preserving his dignity, not entirely sure he even could, particularly when his brief hesitation to defend against the accusation had both girls’ eyes widening in shock as they read it for exactly what it was.

Affirmation.

“You actually—!” Tim blanched, beyond gratified when Steph clapped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from completing the sentence.

Cassie hissed at him demandingly, “Oh my god, Mr. Bang-Me-Bangs was that hot?”

“Mr. Bang-Me-Bangs?” Tim laughed in spite of himself.  “How does Kon even put up with you?” Tim deflected desperately, and Cassie dropped back into her seat with a grin so cocky it could put her aforementioned linebacker boyfriend to shame.

“Kon thinks I'm an absolute delight, thank you very much, and if he doesn’t, he knows better than to say so.” Cassie brandished the cheesy tines of her fork close to his nose, making him go momentarily cross-eyed, before she dug the utensil back into her food.  Stephanie rolled her eyes at Cassie’s special brand of humbleness.

Silence crept in for a few seconds before Steph suggested plainly, “You should ask him out.”

“ What!? ” Tim balked, staring at her incredulously as she leaned over with her own fork to steal a few elbows of mac from Cassie.

“What, what ? It’s a good idea.”

“It’s a terrible idea!” Tim fish-mouthed at her, then looked over to Cassie for support, only to receive an indifferent shrug.  How to begin explaining why the mere suggestion sounded less exciting than chipping paint off a wall with his bare, stubby fingernails?  He couldn’t quite find the words to express the absolute disaster such a thing would likely incur.

“Please,” Cassie dismissed his horror, taking a few gulps of Steph’s soda and flicking the condensation that came off on her fingers at him.  “He’s hot, you obviously like him,” her eyes dropped demonstratively to his lap, and Tim abruptly felt scandalized.  “What’s bad about it?”

“Oh, I don’t know, how about the fact that he’s got a super hot girlfriend?” Tim hated himself immediately just for saying it.  An adult crush.  On a straight guy.  How unbelievably appropriate that it happened now, right when Tim was just shy of having his entire life worked out.  He’d taken the quiz.  He had his shit 91% together.

“How do you even know that?” Cassie frowned at him.

“I,” Tim cut himself off, tried again, “I don’t know.  But—”

“Never know ‘til you try!” Steph interrupted cheerily.

“I say this completely unironically,” Tim muttered, “but I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now.” He nearly caved in on himself at the girls’ twin smiles of evil.

“You’re only feeling that way because you know we’re right,” Cassie nodded with an affected air of wisdom.

Steph rolled her eyes excessively and stated, “Tim, you have such a bad habit of assuming every guy you like is straight.”

“Yeah, well, look what happened last time I decided to just go for it.” Tim raised his brows at Cassie significantly, and only ended up earning a burst of laughter from both blondes.

“Oh, come on! Of course Kon turned you down! He was dating me. He knows how blessed he is,” Cassie proclaimed without a shred of modesty. That unsettling predatory gleam came back into her eyes then and Tim stiffened, holding his ground through sheer willpower when she reached out and twisted a lock of his hair around her fingers with a murderously loving intent.

“Besides, Kon told me he thinks you’re hot.  He likes your hair.” Before Tim could even begin touching that bold statement, Cassie’s fingers twined more tightly into the strands and gave them a short tug, tacking on, “Said it looks grippable .”

The complete unlikelihood of that had Tim releasing an unexpected bark of disbelief, and for the first time since this morning, he felt his mood lift a bit. He shook his head free of her grasp, Cassie’s smile softening along with his.  “Either that’s a total lie, or you got him incredibly drunk and asked him leading questions to get to that point.”

“Hey,” Steph chuckled, dragging Cassie’s abandoned lunch toward her side of the table. “They say you reveal your deepest desires when you’re three sheets to the wind.”

Cassie matched her grin and tapped her chin thoughtfully.  “You two would have been hot though, if I hadn’t gotten there first.” She threw her hands up in an ‘oh well’ gesture.  “Too bad I did. I’ll bet you and Professor McFuck-Me-Fringe will look hotter together anyway.”

“Stop with the stupid nicknames. You haven’t even seen him! How do you know he's actually hot and I'm not just insane?” Tim denied it with such a lack of conviction that Cassie’s gaze turned disdainful, and this time, Steph’s eyes couldn’t have rolled harder if they’d fallen out of her head.

“Hun, you got a chub just watching him push hair out of his face. The only logical conclusion is that the guy has the most insanely perfect genes to ever grace humanity if he got you to react that hard...pun absolutely intended.” Both girls dissolved back into laughter at his expense.

“You two are enjoying this way too much right now.” Tim gave the giggling girls a nasty side-eye. “Whatever, it’s still a bad idea.  Even if he is into guys, it’s against the rules for students and teachers to—”

“He’s a TA!  He’s not an actual teacher!” Stephanie argued.

“What difference does that make!” Tim snapped back.

“Now you’re just trying to make up excuses to—”

“Hey, you’re—sorry to interrupt.  You’re Tim Drake, right?”

Cassie’s head flew around so fast over her shoulder at the deep voice, Tim got whiplash just watching, while Steph lost control of her silverware entirely and had to slam her hand down dramatically to prevent it from falling to the ground.  Tim knew exactly how they felt though when both their jaws dropped at the sight of the man standing beside them.

Jason Todd, Tim’s new TA, was no less devastating to Tim’s currently fragile psyche than he’d been in the wee hours of early morning classes. In fact, the effect of what had to be at least two day’s worth of stubble spread across a strong jawline and bold features may have been even more destructive in the natural daylight shining through the cafeteria window, when compared to the harsh fluorescent lighting of the lecture hall.

The deep gray t-shirt with an abstract red slash across the chest was possibly even more form-fitting and tight wrapped around that trim torso than Tim recalled. His eyes zeroed in on sleeve hems hugging unfairly defined biceps and swore he could practically hear the seam stitches moaning with pleasure from the stretch.  An abrupt moment of body envy hit him, entirely separate from his attraction, that dissipated a few moments later.   God, how many hours does a person have to log in a gym to get a body like that?  Not my ideal way to spend time. Tim’s eyes scanned unconsciously along broad shoulders and a strong neck and had to admit, I’d watch, though. I’d definitely watch.

The crooked grin on the man’s face faltered slightly when all of them simply continued to gape in silence at him. “Uh, did I...make a mistake?”

The question snapped Tim out of his momentary stupor, although the rough quality of the man’s voice wasn’t helping the situation. “Yes, sorry, yes. Tim, that’s me. Drake. I’m Tim Drake,” he finished, biting his tongue before he could repeat his own name one more time and solidify his obvious insanity; he could feel the judging look Steph turned on him burn into the side of his head.

The grin came back, a little more smug this time, and Tim could swear – or maybe it was just high, heavenly, thirsty hopes – that the tone of voice was flirty when Jason replied, “You sure about that?”

Unable to suppress his own embarrassment, Tim barely managed to look his new TA in the eye when he nodded and replied, “Yes, I’m sure. You just caught me off guard.”

The smarmy grin turned into a pearly-white smirk, and Tim was positive this time that he wasn’t imagining it when he heard the flirtatious inflection in the return of, “Yeah, I seem to be getting that a lot today.”

The pair stared at each other, Tim incapable of grasping enough words to string together because Jason, once again , chose that moment to drag long, strong-looking fingers through his hair in a graceful swoop. Really? For god’s sake, since when was this a thing for him? Tim barely registered the cough, or the nails digging into his thigh. At some point, Steph had worked her way around the table.

“Umm, Tim?”

When it was clear that Tim had no intention of introducing either of the girls anytime soon, too transfixed by the way the small swath of white bangs curved just so at his TA’s hairline, Steph turned back to the man, who extended his hand out in greeting.

“I’m Stephanie. I’m a friend of Mr. Speechless here.”

“Hey, I’m Jason.” The TA grinned at her introduction, and despite wanting to throttle her with his bare hands, Tim still couldn’t bring words to the surface, entranced by the way the muscles in Jason’s forearm flexed when he gripped Steph’s hand. “I’m the teacher’s assistant for Warwick’s Econ classes this semester.” Jason turned to Cassie, who, like Tim, had yet to appropriately react.  “You must be another friend of Tim’s?”

“Cassie.” Her name came out in a breathy, almost surreal whisper as Cassie slipped her hand into Jason’s larger one, and it garnered a humorous smile from the man.

“Pleasure to meet you, Cassie.” Glancing at Tim, he lowered his voice and asked with that same smirk, “He always this talkative?”

Cassie erupted into the highest-pitched giggles Tim had ever heard come out of her, and it blessedly gave him the ability to look somewhere other than Jason’s face, if only to stare at her like she’d gone completely batshit. Even Jason looked a little stunned. She clapped a hand over her mouth, shooting a mortified look at Tim, who finally managed to find some spine in the wake of Cassie’s utter embarrassment, and he turned to fully face Jason.

“What brings you over to our table, Mr. Todd?”

“Ugh, please, I can’t be more than a few years older than you,” Jason’s lips curled back in a disgusted grimace.  “Let’s just stick with Jason.” He paused, watching Tim assessingly for a second before some sort of decision must have been made and he offered, “Or you could call me Jay.”

Was it just Tim or had there been a strong emphasis on “you” in that offer?

“Jason, then.” He’d work himself up to Jay.  He could barely handle his reactions to the man finger-combing his own hair; Tim would probably implode trying to use an intimate nickname at this point. And it was definitely intimate. Tim could practically taste it on his tongue, the same way he'd say it in the bathroom when— “Did I forget something in class?” He questioned a little harshly, just to choke off his own train of thought.

“Yes, actually.” Jason turned to rummage in his bag, and Tim’s eyes instantly dropped down to the strip of skin showing as the t-shirt shifted and rose with each motion of his digging arm.

Skin...no skin...smooth, tanned skin...no skin...gorgeous, begging to be licked skin…

A sound of success was followed almost immediately by a piece of paper blocking Tim’s fantastic view, and he inadvertently glowered at the sheet without actually processing what it was.

“Whoa, didn’t realize you’d hate office hours that much.”

“Huh?” Tim answered intelligently, transferring his gaze up to find Jason grinning at him with a single raised eyebrow.

“My office hours.” Jason waved the paper, recapturing Tim’s attention so he could see the location and hours each week that Jason had set up for students to come see him for help. “You just tried to eviscerate my selfless offering with your eyes.”

“What! I did not—” Tim snapped his attention back up, ready to defend his insanity, but found himself enthralled by deep teal eyes that sparkled--whose eyes actually sparkle in real life?-- when Jason opened his mouth and laughed at Tim's earnest protest.

“You are too easy,” Jason commented, no doubt in reference to Tim's apparent gullibility. Tim could only agree wholeheartedly that, for Jason, yes. Yes, he would be so easy. In fact, the man would probably never have an easier time even if he walked into a hands-on strip club.

Tim took the paper from Jason's hand, careful not to touch him, as he was fairly certain his entire body would go numb from the contact. His efforts were futile though because the moment Jason let go, he reached up and ruffled a hand through Tim's hair in a friendly gesture.

Time slowed. Tim’s vision blurred as all his senses honed in on the feeling of that large, warm hand roughly carding through his locks. Tim’s entire being turned to jelly from the sensation and the paper floated softly to the floor at his feet. The hand paused. No, keep petting me , Tim’s pathetic brain pleaded.

But then.

Then .

Fingers pulled at his hair a bit, got a grip on the strands, and tipped Tim’s head back a few inches so he was trapped in a stare-off with his unnaturally striking TA, and Jason was just looking. At. Him.

He can’t, Tim’s brain spasmed, unable to quite comprehend that a virtual stranger could so blatantly ignore the concept of a personal bubble, or that Tim would have absolutely zero words of complaint.  And of course, Jason’s head leaned down so he was even closer, so Tim’s brain completely short-circuited.

“Are you feeling okay?” Jason’s brow furrowed with concern as he looked Tim over, who for his part, felt he must be hallucinating the entire situation, it was so surreal.  “You seem a little out of it.” Jason stepped back, releasing his hold, and Tim couldn’t have controlled his lean to follow that hand if his life depended on it.  Jason paused, lips twitching a little at Tim’s obvious motion, but he graciously let it slide.

Tim was certain it would come back to bite him in the ass eventually, so he was only slightly less horrified with himself.

“I’m good. Just, tired.” The excuse felt lame just leaving his mouth, but Tim had nothing. He’d been rendered incapable of his usually quippy mind, and could only do what was necessary to keep his nose above the water.

“I can imagine,” Jason eyed him, obviously not believing it for a second, but Tim was once again forced to be grateful that the man was letting it go. “Well, I’ve delivered what I came for. I’ll let you guys get back to lunch.” With a little wave, Jason turned to leave. “See you Thursday, Tim.”

“What? Oh, yeah, class. Bye.” Tim could only wave absently back because Jason’s smile was devastating when he shot it over his shoulder and walked away.

The moment the TA was out of earshot, all three friends collectively drew a stabilizing breath.

“ Shit , he’s hot.  I completely lost it for a minute there.” Cassie fanned herself dramatically.

“For a minute ?” Steph scoffed, moving back around the table to take her seat.  “I’m telling Kon you nearly dropped your panties in the cafeteria.”

“Don't you dare tell Kon. I will break you.” Cassie growled, fingers curling into harpy claws, though Steph seemed unfazed.

“I’m so telling Kon, you are going to be playing good girlfriend for weeks to make up for this,” Steph cackled.

“I’m so glad it wasn’t just me,” Tim commiserated, pulling a murmur of assent from both girls as they simultaneously craned their necks to watch the last flash of Mr. Jason Todd, Teacher’s Assistant Extraordinaire, exit the cafeteria doors.  The moment his back was no longer visible, Steph shook her head in wonderment and stabbed absently at Cassie’s cooling macaroni, missing it by a mile but obviously not caring in the least.

“That man’s picture is right beside the word ‘rugged’ in the dictionary.” Steph’s eyes flared with heat, and she practically waxed poetic. “He looks like he just got back from logging in the woods, and is casually prepared to fight off a bear and then later take you by the light of the cabin fireplace. The only thing missing is plaid and an axe.”

Tim laughed hoarsely at her over-the-top, but somewhat scarily accurate description.

“That, or he’s straight out of a Chippendale’s show,” Cassie surmised, and all three of them shared a moment of breathless imagination at the very prospect.  Cassie turned wide eyes filled with endless pity on Tim, one hand held lightly to her chest. “Sweetie, you really weren’t kidding. You are so screwed.”

Tim’s head fell to the table once again with a thump, Jason’s office hours scrunching in his hands.  “Oh god. I’m gonna fail Econ.”

~~~

A/N:  Chippendale’s is a male exotic dance club in Las Vegas, for anyone who doesn’t know.

#jaytim #college au #generatorcat

[ijaws]

EA (Electronic Assholes) and SJWare rant...

I’m kinda glad that EA screwed Bioware after Andromeda. It’s literally what they get when they allow SJWs into the workplace on video game projects. However I am aware that EA probably has a few of them there as well... 

Now before I literally get crucified on this SJW-ridden website, I have to say that I literally don’t give a rats ass about what Race, gender, or sexuality you have. Humans are humans. Female. Male. I’m all for equality cause, as I said, HUMAN! HOWEVER... Some of the things that I didn’t like about the game was a little bit of pandering. For instance. The Asari.

Why did they look like they were all the same person... and they were ugly? Wait... why was EVERY female ugly... Except the Angara. They actually were more attractive than the Human... uh... females? If you can call them females. They all looked like dudes with huge chins and shit. Anyway, I just hated how they fucked the Asari up. In the book filled with the concept art, character info, and so on, the Asari were literally MEANT to look sexy, beautiful, and mysterious. The Asari were MEANT to be oversexualized. That was their entire thing! Like Black Widow from MARVEL who would literally have sex with her target to infiltrate and complete missions and shit, as she suggests in Age of Ultron. The Asari are meant to be this sexual race of magic wielding badassery that literally use their bodies to infiltrate, distract, and persuade other races. Now not ALL of them are like this, obviously, but literally their kind, in the Behind the scenes concept book, said that they wanted Asari to be sexy, beautiful, and mysterious. That their head fringes were supposed to mimic the sight of a beautiful model walking out of the ocean. Hence the blue as well. 

That is literally what the CREATORS said. That’s supposed to be canon. Now I understand that in reality, there are ugly people and the Asari would be no exception.... but unless if they took every ugly asari and threw them to the Andromeda Initiative to purge themselves of their ugly sisters, then there is NO way that every Asari looks the way they do.... Either it is the SJW agenda or the lazy modelling lead. 

Then the humans... Okay, I understand, again, that not every human being is a model, but video games are a form of escapism. To escape reality. Why in the world would I want to play a video game where every male in the game looks like their real life models (Handsome and generally good looking) but literally takes the hammer to the faces of 99.999999% of the female characters? Okay, I’m exaggerating. Suvi isn’t that bad.. but other than her... I can’t think of a human that is on, like, even Kelly Chambers level... like... Kelly wasn’t extremely hot nor was she extremely bad. Kelly was NORMAL... and yet I can’t find a normal female in the game that comes CLOSE to being Kelly... 

Oh my jesus, then there’s the Turian and Salarian Character models... Okay, the Turians aren’t THAT bad but I wished I could have seen the diversity of types of Turians as I saw in the originals... Then the salarians... omfg. Like the Asari, they used the same model for EVERY character. Even females... which I don’t think would be right... In the concept art book the females were a little more slender and obviously a little more feminine in appearance... but Tann and his assistant look identical except for skin tones... 

Aesthetics, Sex, and Violence. That’s what sells in general and that is literally human nature. Pretty things, Sex, and violence. Models, Porn, and UFC. Like. That’s how it is and I’m probably overreacting but this is just my personal interpretation of Andromeda. 

So yeah... with what they did with Andromeda hurt me as a fan. As you can see, I literally don’t give a rats ass about who you can romance, who can romance who, and so on and so forth. I really don’t care. I just found that they were pandering with the appearances of the female character models. Like... either they put NO effort into it and didn’t polish the game, or they “Didn’t want to oversexualize their characters” and that’s completely okay. For the humans at least. Asari... at least a good bit of them should be attractive as fuck because in the milky way I could count... maybe... three? that I came across? That were ugly. There shoulda been a ratio of normalcy and beautiful/sexy. Humans? There’d be less of a ratio as every human isn’t to be super models but at the same time every woman isn’t getting hit with an eighteen wheeler only to have a grenade explode in their faces... Just... a good ratio would have been okay. 

I’m only pissed about it cause I see that the male character models are coming out quite normal and handsome... like normal people... but as a male, who happens to be straight, and I see what they did to the Asari and Human Females I’m just... put off by them. None of them are attractive except suvi. None. Their chins are like a linebackers chin and just... ugh... >.< and they all look the same! Like... why... I don’t know. Other than that, the writing was pretty bad in places and good in others. The combat was really nice and the worlds were beautiful as shit. They deserve praise there... but character aesthetics, and some of their writing was... uh..... not so... uh... good... to put it mildly. 

Okay... Rant over.... Summary: Asari and Human Females were bludgeoned with the ugly stick. Males were left alone. Salarian character models were... all the same. Krogans were alright. Nothing too different with them. Turians were somewhat the same but minor differences which was interesting. Then, last but not least, the animations were fucking garbage... along with some writing and shit. I’m glad bioware is coming to a fall with the infection of the SJW doctrine though. I would’ve been terrified to see what the next one would have been like. 

#Mass Effect #Andromeda #Rant #SJW bullshit #SJW #Feminazi #Bioware #EA #Sex and violence #video games #Asari #Humans #salarians #Are you fucking kidding me bioware #SJWare #Mass Effect Andromeda #Mass Effect Andromeduuuhrrrr #anti sjw #gamer gate