#my god. worlds top ten most repulsive men

[mp100days]

081 - divorced man but he hasnt even been married yet

[wandering-travesty]

Off To The Races

 Zeke’s life wasn’t supposed to be like this. His father would have a spontaneous brain aneurism if he saw the daily goings on of the younger Yeager’s household on his days off. Horrid amounts of smoking outside, snow or shine, day-drinking without a second thought, and lonely, not by choice. He had honest-to-god tried to live the life his father wanted for him. He married a woman straight out of law school and knocked her up a few months after. They raised that kid for a year then repeated the process. They lived, laughed, and loved for a few years, then, as a surprise to no one, the divorce came along. His wife had run off with a lump sum of money and started a new life out of state. He got left with two kids, substance abuse issues, and a law firm to run. He was stressed, depressed, and by the holiest powers above, was he horny. 

 Ignoring the horniness for a moment, everything changed when you came around. Every inch of his world brightened, almost like a light at the end of a tunnel. You gave him some form of hope, and reminded him that life wasn’t all doom and gloom. You were still in college, looking for some extra funds to help pay your tuition; a lawyer that doubled as a father of two was the perfect target. You had shown up in your prettiest outfit, almost as if you were showing off for him. Being the kind of man he was, Zeke couldn’t help but hire you. Some sweet, fetching little thing coming up to his decadent doorstep in a tiny little tennis skirt and begging to take care of his kids? That was something he could never turn away. 

 So, you became the official caretaker of Zeke’s little angels. You truly adored looking after them while their, admittedly handsome, father slaved away at his big, important law firm. You rang the doorbell right as the kids were waking up, Zeke greeting you at the door already dressed in one of his repulsively expensive suits. You talked over scones and coffee and made the kids just about anything they wanted. He would leave, and you would get the kids dressed and out the door with ample time to catch the bus. You’d clean the house, make yourself some lunch, play with the family dog. The golden retriever was just another cliche. But you still loved the mutt, especially since every family member loved him, too. You could tell because Zeke had named him after some long-dead baseball player, meaning he would be enamoured with the thing no matter what.  

 It was fun, picking up on little details about Zeke, or Mr. Yeager, as you called him. He loved baseball and would talk about it for hours on end if you let him, and he hated strawberry icecream for some unexplained reason. He was the face of success for his entire life, from being a star pitcher on his little league team back home to captain of the debate team in high school; he had never really failed at anything or gotten robbed of what he wanted. He was a winner in everything he had ever tried. He had mentioned how high-strung his parents were, and how they’d gone through a divorce of their own when he was young. He and his step-brother never got along that well, and had actually turned out to be very different people. His family life was anything but smooth, and he feared his kids would look back on their childhood in the same light. You guessed that’s why tonight was happening. 

 “Alright, I’m entrusting my children, dog, house, and painfully expensive belongings to you for the night.” He was dressed to the nines, hell, the tens. He wore an umber sport coat, mustard turtleneck sweater, a thick black belt, grey slacks, chestnut oxfords, and the most expensive golden watch you had ever seen. His flaxen hair shined perfectly in the low light of the entranceway; it was official: you wanted to fuck him. Rather, you wanted him to fuck you. You wanted him to fuck you stupid and make you squirt all over that pretty watch, and his even prettier face. 

 “I’ve got it covered, Mr. Yeager.” His youngest son wrapped his arms around your legs as the dog rubbed his head into your palm. “Knock ‘er dead!” You gave him your cheesiest smile and thumbs up. He chuckled at you as his eldest son grabbed your free hand. 

 “You’ve got this, Dad!” He cheered, starting to drag you to the living room. 

 “Thank you, Atticus. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He gave a weak smile, turning to leave through the large oak door. It was awful, how badly he wanted to stay there with you and the kids. He wanted to chase Atticus down the hall as the rest of you ran after him, laughing all the way. He wanted to put on some old, boring movie only he wanted to watch and feel your breath on his neck as you fell asleep just after the kids and dog sitting on the floor below you. He wanted to feel your warmth in his bed. He wanted to see what you looked like backed up against a wall. Heaving after an especially passionate kiss. With your legs over your head, screaming his name. The sweat dripping down your face as you came undone beneath him. The little whimpers you’d make as he pulled out of you and cradled you in his arms. He wanted you, not this random woman off of some shitty dating site. He didn’t really want the booze, or the men, or the women, or the money, or the white picket fence, or his father’s approval; he just wanted - no - he needed you. Your game of cat and mouse, seeing which playful “sweetheart” or coy little “Mr. Yeager” would be the one to tip you over the edge of more than friends.  

 “Zeke? That’s you, right?” The tall blonde woman in a sleek black suit walked towards him with an outstretched hand. She could’ve easily been a full foot taller than him. Interesting.

 “Yes. Yelena, correct?” But she wasn’t you. He just wanted to get this night of false wining and dining over with so he could come home to you. You in his big, expensive house. Better yet, his big, expensive bed.

 - 

 You sat and watched the clock after the kids went to bed. It ticked and tocked, back and forth, over and over. It had been about an hour since you’d put them down for the night. You couldn’t wait for Zeke to get home for much longer. Butterflies buzzed through your stomach when you heard the doorbell ring.

 “Mr. Yeager?” You opened the door to the sight of your employer with his shirt halfway unbuttoned, glasses falling off his face, and hair an absolute bird’s nest. 

 “Hey, beautiful.” He purred, slumping onto your shoulder, trying and failing to be smooth. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in my house, huh?” He looked up at you over the rim of his glasses. The way his eyes glimmered a dark shade of teal lit your entire body on fire. Feeling his full weight on top of you only made it spread farther.

 “Babysitting your kids, for starters.” You maneuvered your bodies to have his arm wrapped around your shoulder as you dragged him back into the house. “Apparently I’ll be babysitting you, too.” You mumbled, just then realizing exactly how muscular he was. You sat him down on the leather couch and started to walk to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. You didn’t have much experience with alcohol, but you believed water helped with it somehow.

 “Damn. Loving the view from back here, gorgeous.” He leaned forwards with his elbows on his knees, licking his chapped lips. You jumped at the sudden compliment. You couldn’t remember him being so…dirty before. You walked a little faster than you already were, wanting to get away from him before you made a stupid decision. You poured a tall glass of water, walking back to the couch where Zeke was now lounging, legs spread far enough to leave barely anything to the imagination.  

 “Hey there, doll. Got somethin’ for me?” He giggled, lowering his head from where he had been resting it. His eyes were something to behold, and the deep rooted confidence and downright cockiness behind them only served to make you shiver. You shuffled closer, a bit skittish at the sight of the beast before you. 

 “It’s just water.” You sat down on the table in front of him. “It’s supposed to help with your metabolism, I think.” Your voice was a higher pitch than usual, feeling an odd pressure in your throat every time you spoke.

 “What a smart little thing you are.” He praised. It felt genuine, and you started to feel hotter. You handed him the glass, trying your best to avoid eye contact. He took the glass, and almost as if he had sensed your intentions, took your chin between his fingers and forced you to look into his deep, ocean eyes. He leaned back a bit, giving you a better view of his exposed chest. There was a light layer of golden hair overtop of his expansive chest, and it seemed to trail down the rest of his body. You wanted to find out if that was true. Still holding eye contact with you, he tipped the glass and send the water spilling down his shirt. You knew that wasn’t just drunken clumsiness, but a calculated measure to get in your pants.

 “Whoops.” He said, eyes cold and emotionless as his words. “You better clean that up, sweetheart. We both know I can’t take care of myself in this state.” You moved closer to him, hands unsure of where they were going. You were shaking a bit, and you didn't have a towel on you. You decided the best course of action was to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way. You felt down his chest, gently tugging on his nipples. He let out a soft groan as you continued to feel him up. 

 “You’re gettin’ a little handsy there, baby. You want something from me?” He pet your hair as you moved further down on his chest. You kissed and gave kitten licks, appreciating every inch and curve of his muscular form. You couldn’t get enough of him, try as you might.

 “I fuckin’ knew it.” He pulled you by your hair to force you to look at him.

 “Filthy little harlot.” He squeezed you cheeks, forcing your mouth open. You looked confused until you felt a glob of spit hit your tongue. You swallowed like it was second nature. 

 “You’re just here for my dick, huh?” You continued to kiss and lick down his abdomen, savoring every ounce of him you could; the smell of cinnamon, menthol, and saltwater hit your nose, intoxicating you further and further the more you breathed him in. “I bet it’s all you think about. Especially when those fingers rub that pretty little cunt until you cum all over yourself.” You let out a whine, signifying exactly how right he was.

 “Yeah.” You dragged your tongue up his six-pack, savoring the slightly salty taste. “Think about you every night.” You licked a stripe down the same line you had just gone up. “Only way I can get to sleep.” He smiled the warmest smile you had ever seen him produce. Such a sweet little thing for him, getting off to thoughts of him railing you silly in order to have a good night’s rest. Your submissive, horny mind was so focused on him you couldn’t get to bed without him. You were perfection in human form. Truly a goddess sent from above. He would worship you in the most degrading way possible.

 “I knew you were dirty, I just needed to force you to show me.” He continued to pet your hair like you were some kind of beloved family pet. You felt so small under his touch; so fragile, as if one touch could blow you away forever. You loved the feeling more than life itself. You felt like you could never live without it again. Touching yourself while thinking about him wouldn’t do the trick; not after you had felt the real thing.

 “That’s it, honey, kiss me like you mean it.” He teased, knowing exactly what was running through your head. Sure, he was no master of seduction, but he had bedded plenty before, and he knew exactly how talented he was. He had learned from years of experience; years you hadn’t yet lived. You would learn it all from him. Those little college boys he could smell on you every so often wouldn’t cut it anymore. He was meant for you, and you for him. He knew he already had you trapped, but playing with you was so fun. Poking and prodding and mocking you all while you worshiped him like he had hung the moon in the sky.

 “You love this body, don’t you, slut?” He pulled your hair suddenly, earning a yelp that went straight to his aching cock. “You know, I’ve only been keeping in shape for you. I knew from the moment you saw me that was the main appeal, and lord knows I’d go through hell to keep you around.” That was true. He knew others would settle for mediocrity, but a flawless little angel like you deserved better than mediocre. You needed someone to match your talent, beauty, and wit. He didn’t believe he equaled you in anything but maybe wits, but still, he was good for you. At least, you seemed to think so, considering you were giving tiny kitten licks to the tip of his recently freed dick. The tip was red, swollen, and leaking a sinful amount of precum. You sucked it all up, taking the engorged head between your plush lips. You felt like heaven, but the ache in your pussy felt like hell. You slowly began to go the full length down his cock. Zeke was right: you had messed around with college boys before, but none were as big as him. Your gag reflex wasn’t prepared, causing you to choke and sputter on it. Zeke grinned slyly.

 “Say my name, sweetie.” He wanted to treat you right, but it was so enjoyable to indulge his sadistic side.

 “Mr. Yeager.” You choked out. You knew how much he enjoyed that title; the feeling of authority it brought him made him hard as a rock every time. He groaned in pleasure, sending shivers down your spine. That knocked him off his rhythm for a moment, but he was right back on you the minute he regained some sense of self.

 “The kids are right upstairs, peacefully sleeping, while you choke on my dick like a dumb little slut.” The thought made you feel so dirty. You shifted on the ground, squeezing your thighs together and trying to get some friction. “And you do it so well, baby. I couldn’t ask for better.” He sighed.

 “That’s it, pretty girl, don’t hurt yourself down there.” He slowly pulled you off his cock by your hair. He didn’t want to admit it, and really didn’t show any signs, but you had him on the verge of cumming down your throat. But he didn’t want his precious seed there. Hell no! He wanted you stuffed to the brim and properly bred.

 “I’ve wanted you for so goddamn long, you don’t even know.” The look on tour face was something beyond pleasure or pain. It was a mix of both with a side of...fear? “What, scared of taking something this big, doll?” You shook your head.

 “Don’t worry, daddy’ll get you nice and wet for him.” He slowly came to hover over you, lifting you up and sitting you down on the couch. He spread your legs, undoing the button of your shorts with his long, thick fingers, bringing his mouth to your zipper and pulling it down with his teeth. He pulled them down your legs, bringing his face to your core. You felt hot on his mouth and nose. He licked a wet stripe up your clothed core,

 “God, you taste like honey, sweetie. I’m so fuckin’ lucky.” He pulled your panties to the side, relishing in the sight of your puffy pussy. You were beautiful in the murky yellow light of the room. You folds shimmered with slick and he could see your cunt clench around nothing, so obviously desperate for his dick. That’s right, his dick. Only his. From now on.

 He dove into you, savoring your tangy flavor. Pussy was a taste all its own, each having new, intense, rich tastes he could barely describe. To be perfectly honest, Zeke was a sucker for a wet little cunt in his mouth, and you were the perfect subject. Every suck to your clit, every kiss and lick to your folds, every darting flick of his tongue into your aching little hole; it had you moaning and whimpering like a ditzy little slut. Your mind was hazy with ecstasy.

 “Don’t get too loud now, dollface. Don’t wanna wake the kids now, do you?” His words brought you back to Earth, forcing you to remember you were being eaten out by a father of two. It felt so filthy to know you had been bringing up his kids, acting as a faux wife, and now you were being treated like one, eaten out of your mind and promised a thorough breeding.

 “Not that I don’t believe you would get off on being watched. I bet you love that idea, huh?” You jolted at the words and the sensation of another kiss to your cunt. “It might sound a little sick, but I could invite my brother over, see if he has as good a taste as mine.” He’d be willing to invite Eren over for a test run of…you? You knew they didn’t get along, so it was surprising, but that only turned you on even more. Imaging them fighting over you like hungry wolves on the hunt. They’d ravish you without even thinking. If this was Zeke, held back, on his own, you could only yelp and whimper at what kind of monsters the two of them would be together.

 “Nah, that little shit doesn’t deserve you.” He smirked into your sopping wet core. Eren never appreciated the finer things in life, still to young to understand the joys of pussy eating. No, he was more for the fuck and chuck kind of lifestyle. You deserved better aftercare than a point towards the door. “Some of the guys at my firm, however. Bet they’d turn you out real nice. They’re all just about as big and pent up as me. We could all show you a real good time." That would be about…three, four, even five of him? All fucking you at once with the same vigor and deep seated intensity. You head buzzed at the thought. "You’d like that, wouldn’t you, whore?” You couldn’t keep up with him in this state. You were completely fucked out without even being fucked at all. Before you knew it, you were cumming all over his gorgeous face and beard. He was taken slightly aback, but he licked it all up in five seconds flat. He was a professional.

 “Answer me, doll.” He delivered a harsh slap to your thigh. He enjoyed the ripple it gave and the red mark his hand had left.

 “Yes, Mr. Yeager.” You stuttered out, barely above a whisper. Torturing you would be fun, but not tonight. No, he needed to be thorough with your pleasure and ensure you would never leave his side again. He gave a few light slaps to your slippery pussy, making your thighs shake and mouth move without making a sound.

 “That’s what I fuckin’ thought.” He slowly stood up, giving you a perfect view of the shining god before you. His body was something sculpted by the old masters; a true work of art. Before you could fully appreciate the image of perfection in front of you, he bent down just a bit, pushing your thigs back as far as they could go, squishing your tits under them. He enjoyed the way your pudgier parts stuck out, giving him more parts of you to pinch and suck on as he fucked into you. His was no doubt the biggest cock you’d ever taken, and it wasn’t easy to have inside of you at first. Your walls clamped down on him so tight it was almost painful. But as he slowly pushed in and out, pleasure began to overtake the pain and you started to loosen up just a bit.

 “Just relax, sweetie. Daddy’s got you.” Of course he had a daddy kink. It made perfect sense, as did yours. Hearing him say that in that truly comforting tone made your head spin with pleasure.

"God, you are so fucking tight." He continued to fuck into you at a savage pace, not seeming to care if you screamed or cry, rather relishing in the fact that you were. You were so young and tight and sensitive, it drove him mad. He was sure he could never go a day without your pussy again.

"You fit me like a vice, sweetheart. You trying to milk me dry? Huh?" Your mouth was hanging open, drool spilling out. It gave him ample opportunity to spit in your mouth once again.

"Swallow it you filthy slut." He lightly tapped your face.

"This is exactly how I wanted you." You could barely hear him, blanking out at the intensity of his continuous pounding of your poor little cunt. "Been thinking about this for months."

"Might just knock you up, sweetie. You already take care of my brats so well, what's one more?" You squealed at the thought. He wanted you to have his babies. He wanted you to be his new, permanent play thing to fuck and fill up every night.

"Yeah. I wan' your babies." You slurred your words, inebriated by the feeling of his cock filling your tight little cunt. He gazed down at your fucked out form, finding a sick sense of pleasure in how far gone you were all thanks to him. You moaned far too loud for someone in a house full of kids. You couldn't hold back, he just felt too damn good.

"You gonna cum, little girl?" He had almost a mocking tone when he asked that. You nodded your head, squeezing your eyes shut. He kept up the pace, abusing your g-spot, not letting up for even a second. He set out to make you feel incredible; like the perfect little plaything he knew you to be, and he wasn’t going to let his slightly aged stamina get in the way.

"That's it, you look so pretty, baby. What a good little slut." He looked down at you with heated intensity. "My little slut." He continued his brutal pace almost as if you had never cum at all.

"Oh, 'd you think I'd quit just 'cause you finished? No fuckin' way." You squealed as he continued to thrust inside you, still drunk on the idea of being full of his cum. You wanted him more than you had wanted anything in your life.

"'M gonna make you squirt all over me. Ruin this nice, expensive couch." You were screaming his name at that point, unable to form a thought that wasn't Zeke and his perfect dick.

"Such a fuckin' cocktease all these months. This is what you get for it. Tummy full of my cum." He slowed his pace as he looked into your eyes with the intensity of a man drunk on desire.

"All those times you flipped your skirt up so I could see your cute little panties." He thrusted into you harder than he had before. "All those times you called me Mr. Yeager in that innocent tone that drove me up the wall." He thrusted harder than you had ever thought possible. You felt him hit your cervix. "Every time you acted like you didn't know what you were doing. Like you didn't know what I wanted." He continued to pound into you. You felt so full, so good.

"You're getting tighter, baby. You gonna squirt while daddy fills you up, huh?" His pace was brutal and you were seeing stars.

"That's it, pretty baby, cum all over me. Let me fill you up." He humped into you a few final times before shooting his load into your cunt. You screamed at the feeling of your cum squirting out of you as his cum squirted into you. You were so dizzy and so full. You were happy. You were safe and taken care of and filled to the brim by the man you loved most.

 “Hey.” You saw Zeke’s stunningly handsome face look down at you. His cheeks were flushed, forehead sweaty, sculpted chest heaving. But his eyes were transfixed on you with a look so filled with love and passion it made you feel like you were floating. “How you holding up, princess?” That was a new name…not that you minded. “Didn’t go too rough did I?” He panted in between his gentle words, the main drawback of giving it your all.

 “Actually.” You huffed a bit, just then realizing how difficult it was to talk, or move, or breathe. “Think you coulda’ gone harder.” He chuckled, the same look of complete infatuation lingering in his oceanic eyes.

 “Yeah?”

 “Yeah.”

 “You sure?”

 “I’m tougher than you’d think, old man.” He laughed at you, appreciating how you could still be the sweetest little thing he’d ever met after being pounded half to death.

 “Alright, I’m not even thirty, you little minx.”

 “Calling me a minx isn’t helping your case, Zeke.” His eyes lit up with recognition.

 “First time you’ve called me that, angel.” He smiled like an idiot in love, because he was one.

 “Maybe it’ll be the last, if you keep acting like such an animal around me.” You slapped his shoulder with as much strength as you could muster, which was basically none.

 “Well, if you don’t like the rough treatment, how about I treat you like the perfect angel you are? Treat you to a nice, warm shower and a cuddle session with yours truly. How about that?” He gently rubbed your cheek, taking in how wonderful your afterglow was.

 “Sounds nice.”

 “Alright, let’s go, angel.”

 “Okay, Mr. Yeager.” You giggled at how quickly his face darkened and lips tightened into a frown.

 “Ever the tease, you are.” He carried you to his shower bridal style, no doubt a sign of things to come.

[migleefulmoments]

Oh my God. So now people in Hollywood are threatening Darren and Chris's families if they don't comply? Tinhats are saying they wouldn't be surprised if someone died in a freak accident to put Darren and Chris in line. How long before they bring up Chris's mom and start getting suspicious?

Anonymous said: Damn it’s real dramatic over in CCLand today. Abby’s “anons” are talking about how someone must have threatened to kill Darren or Chris’s family if Darren didn’t get married. And then we have Abby saying that no matter what happens she won’t abandon them. Yeah, she is definitely setting the stage for claiming someone threatened to kill Chris if Darren didn’t have a baby with Mia. She knows a baby is coming eventually and she can’t let go of her CCThrone.

It’s da Mafia, my friends! 

They are so full of themselves-and so dramatic- it’s terrifying. 

I keep saying that Abby is writing a Telenovela and damn does she love the drama. She’s also desperate to keep her storyline going and there just isn’t a logical reason WHY Darren would be in the closet and married to Mia at this point unless you go for “big threats”. Abby has suggested this vague“threat” theory before but nobody else picked it up so we never had such scary-hilarious promises of allegiance to Criss and Colfer. This is exactly the kind of pithy, over-the-top emotional digging into a cause that social media was made for- the kind in which you have no actual impact but you blog the hell out it like you matter.  

One of the biggest issues with the CrissColfer storyline is why should we be sympathetic to ccDarren and/or ccChris? They are both successful, famous, wealthy, powerful men. Abby’s never-ending criticisms of ccDarren are becoming a problem. While she always blames it on “his team”, most people don’t find it so obviously his team’s fault as evidenced by her Nonnies who then get a lecture on HOW it IS his team’s fault. Of course, nobody is controlled by their employees and ccDarren and ccChris aren’t victims or children. 

Abby delights when she can claim that ccDarren is treating Mia abhorrently because it fulfills her hatred of Mia but nobody else feels so delighted. For instance, she claimed he was trying to pull her in the water during a New Year’s Eve embrace. 

I’m guessing, and we are missing the moment inbetween d goes to dip her so she things she’s getting her kiss but in fact tries to throw her in the water.(X)

The sane among us are disgusted by a claim that he would try to drown his wife. The same goes for ccChris when he publically bullies and shames Mia on social media and his books. Abby’s love of hating Mia often overshadows her need to keep ccChris and ccDarren as victims. 

The basis of CrissColfer is that both men want to be famous and work in Hollywood for the big money and they can’t tell their truth without fear of losing everything. After ten years, both men are no longer the “inexperienced, naive, innocent young men who made bad choices when fame was flashed in their faces” and Abby needs a new spin in order to keep her followers emotionally invested. Throw in a storyline where both men are just trying to stay afloat after their families were threatened and WHOA man, you have two very compelling characters with sympathy through the roof.

Anonymous asked: Let's not forget that with the wedding being the lesser of two evils, one of the threats could have gone far beyond you or C would never be working in this industry again, like you said, the people in power will do anything to hide their sins and there really is no limit, who knows a threat on his (or C's or other family) live could have been made. It sure as hell wouldn't be the first time someone dies in a freak accident because they have dirt on someone (Chris already lost his mom in a freak accident. I can’t imagine he would ruin his entire life over the fear of losing someone else when he understands that life is precious and you can’t control what happens to family members. Or the other argument is why would he allow someone to control his life when the easy solution is to go off to NYC and become an author.  Leave Hollywood behind for the man he loves and living an authentic life. It doesn’t seem like that hard of a tradeoff to me)

ajw720 answered: Nonnie. I’m really starting to question. And m has her family and SS on her side. That’s a lot of power and ruthlessness. (I'm always fascinated by the power that Abby imagines Mia’s family has. If Chris and Darren are powerless then why is the head of Vera Wang’s company so powerful? Mia’s dad owned a small chain of small music venues. He’s likely loaded but not in the BIG powerful world of movers and shakers. As for Sunshine Sachs- they are very powerful and healthy but there is little incentive for them to risk it all by getting involved in little unknown Darren’s love life by closeting him).    

I’ve decided. No matter what they throw at us, while i may not be able to watch as closely, I’m not abandoning them unless there comes a point I think it’s willing. I don’t see that happening. What is happening is not about straight. (What “they throw at us”? This isn’t about you, Abby. Nothing about CC is about you. You’re just a lonely, unstable fan sitting in her living room all alone obsessing about Mia and fabricating outrageous stories about a family you don’t know and a man who doesn’t care about you. I’m curious, what would convince you that he’s willing? You already said you wouldn’t believe him if he told you he loved Mia.  You’re destinated to come out the loser because you refuse to see or accept reality.)    

It’s about hiding sins. If it were just straight as I have repeatedly said it would be done better and with someone that actually makes d look good. (So she’s twisting the story to be about hiding sins.  I’m not sure how forcing the farce to continue is a good strategy to ensure you don’ get caught. It seems like a cut and run strategy is better- preferably with big payoffs. Lots of us DO think Darren does look good. It’s only the people obsessed that he’s gay who don’t like him).

I just hope they have finally aligned with the right people to help them (How would this work? Either Ryan and Sunshine are terrified of their role coming out, all-powerful and threatening his family to keep it quiet OR there are people to align with who can help but not both because people who threaten others' lives for their own interests aren’t going to show up at the negotiation table willing to work out and deal).

flowersintheattic254. @ajw720 I’ll state publicly that I’m with you on that. I’m not going away unless I see it’s willing. Right now it doesn’t seem to be and frankly the more I learn about Holly/wood and how people are manipulated and abused the more I think it isn’t a choice or a very unwilling one. (Why would Darren and Chris stay there if it is that bad?  If Hollywood is one big cesspool then reasonable people would get the hell out of dodge, do something because living in that environment will turn you into that kind of person.  Also, I just have to add that the Catholic Church has an abysmal record on sex abuse of women and children so if anyplace is manipulative and abusive, it’s Abby’s church)

leka-1998 Totally agreed.

I feel like every day I get more repulsed by what the people in that awful industry are capable of.

notes-from-nowhere If it is possible, the more I know, the more I feel compelled to stand up against this habits and fight back. (How exactly will you do that? I’m fascinated and can’t wait to hear)

Nothing will change overnight. Not D’s life, not the ones of the others in his same situation but we can do something. And as much as we could, I’m sure, we will. (No shit sherlock, you’re 10 years  inand no end in sight)

I will accept defeat the day D will show me, without a doubt, that this is what he wants for his life and not matter if right or wrong, I will respect his choice. To date, I don’t think we are even close to that. Time will tell. (Again, what can Darren do to prove to you? He married the woman he’s dated for 8 years, he opened a business with her, he gushed about the wedding, and he travels with her everywhere. When he tells you how he feels about her you all instantly dismiss his words as being contracted or “Mia wrote them”.  You refuse to SEE what is so plain in front of you. I cannot imagine what he could do that would convince you.)  

In the meantime I will keep doing what I do now. (which is lie, twist facts, post Glee photos as CrissColfer, make stupid comparisons, and blow some up Abby’s ass).   

Anonymous asked: I agree about HW and who knows what kind of nefarious shit goes on. The problem I have is his parents not intervening in this . I get there is probably blackmail at this point but surely his parents can see this can’t go on. I’m afraid it’s affecting his family at this point and I would think his dad would take the reigns at some point and say enough. This is the only thing that tells me it’s short term and there is an escape date. I don’t see his parents accepting something permanent.

Do they have a choice though nonnie? That’s the question. How are they more powerful then the heavy weights he’s up against? What has been threatened? I have an idea of where I think this is going but I don’t know and I’m firm there’s 2 distinct paths, one is freedom. The other is too horrifying for words. And I think by the end of the year we will know. (She is sure they will be divorcing after the anniversary and Hollywood airs.) 

Because no doubt this has gravely hurt d and his spirit. And between c and his parents, i’d think they are doing everything to help him win. All parties on his side have to be petrified. Because even if there’s a positive plan in place, what’s to stop it from changing? Because I reiterate. D was going to come out tied to ACS and it went nightmarishly wrong. And he’s well being and safety are at stake for as long as she is tied to him. (She reiterates God Damnit! She KNOWS she was right!!!!!!! WTAF? No, he wasn’t going to come out. He’s told you he’s straight and there is no reason to suspect he’s lying. I love the comments about his safety as long as Mia is around or his image as long as his team is around-He’s fucking thriving. When is the shit going to hit the fan? He won the top four awards, has his own show on a new platform, has a big Broadway show coming, has a Ryan Murphy Netflix show that he helped co-create, Elsie is amazing, StarKid had a very successful year, his wedding is all over the “top celeb weddings” lists, he was busy AF this year and he just bought a $3 million house. It’s been a decade-when will this bad stuff start? ). 

Anonymous asked: I do fear D is in this for the long haul unfortunately. It has slowed down for her a bit post-nuptials but unless this show with RM is serving as an out, I don’t see how D will ever get out of this. We also need to remember she knows too much too at this point. It’s not that easy to get someone with the amount of info she has to just go away. If she’s intent on riding coattails, there may be little D can do to get rid of her. I hope I’m wrong. I want to see him win. But it doesn’t look good. (What does ccMia know that she can use against him? That would mean he’s done something wrong but according to cc lexicon, it’s all done against him, he’s the victim. If anything he would have dirt on her to use) 

I can’t believe how naive I was to think it was as simple as d&c saying no. I doubt that was ever an option and they learned that, after months of fighting post encagement, in the cruelest manner. Honestly I’m feeling almost more heartbroken today then on feb 16 because I’m finally seeing the horrifying reality of HW.Nonnie. Despite the fact that I don’t trust him, I’m praying that RM saw that it serves his agenda and reputation to help d as it would rehabilitate his character much more than to continue to hurt him, because at this point I think he’s the only person that has the power to get him out. Now we wait and see. (I don’t see how Ryan Murphy can serve as both Mafia boss and his savior but I understand that he’s the only one that could possibly play that role right now. There are no other gay Yoda’s in Darren’s life with enough cloud to be the “savior” so by process of elimination, Ryan is the one). .   ’t see how Ryan Murphy can serve as both Mafia boss and his savior but I understand that he’s the only one that could possibly play that role right now. There are no other gay Yoda’s in Darren’s life with enough cloud to be the “savior” so by process of elimination, Ryan is the one).    

I can’t believe how naive I was to think it was as simple as d&c saying no. I doubt that was ever an option and they learned that, after months of fighting post encagement, in the cruelest manner. Honestly I’m feeling almost more heartbroken today then on feb 16 because I’m finally seeing the horrifying reality of HW. (So basically, the original cc storyline isn’t holding up anymore after the end dates passed for coming out- Glee ended, the 8-year contract expired, Hedwig ended, ACS started, filmed and ended, Awards season came to a finish and now you’re hoping the anniversary is the lucky date.  But you need to explain why Darren and Chris have so much power and still are not together so you’re going for something bigger and more sinister.  The problem is that while Hollywood has a seedy underbelly, you can’t take one person’s story and extrapolates it to everyone. Judy Garland may have been drugged but they didn’t know the effect of drugs back then like we do know and the military gives the pilots “go” and “no go” pills to help them perform to this day under close medical supervision)  

[captainjackfuckingbarakat-blog]

So I’m working on an Ian/Mickey fic, but refuse to post it, until I’ve got a rough draft completed. Now, I’m not very far in it right now, but with college right now, motivation dwindles. So, I thought I’d post a snippet (ok, not exactly a snippet, it’s a few thousand words long...), and hopefully get some feedback on it.

Enjoy!

Felicia’s hand was flung in front of her, the diamond on her finger glinting with the sunlight beaming through the window and reflecting off it. Ian dug into the depths of his memory, for any recollection of a boyfriend, but he found none. He’d known the fiery auburn haired girl for three years – their first meeting definitely left them a story to tell. Despite the length of their friendship, Ian could only remember Felicia single, even last night she’d been eagerly grinding against some guy. “Oi, don’t be thinking too hard there.” She spoke with a thick British accent; she’d only moved to the states three years ago, shortly before meeting Ian, and she did nothing to cover her origins.

           “You’re just telling me about this now!” Ian seized her left hand, eyes glazing over the rock that took up half of her finger. Felicia had been a mysterious woman from the beginning, and had no problem constantly throwing him for a loop – like the ex-boyfriend she’d left behind with their infant daughter when she was 18.

           “He only proposed this morning. Sorry I decided to have celebratory sex with my fiancé to tell your sorry ass.” Felicia yanked back her hand, flashing one more adoring smile at her ring finger before shoving it into the pocket of her black romper. “Oh come on, I’ve told you about Mickey, dark and handsome. Haven’t I?” Felicia threw a gob smacked hand to her forehead and her face flushed. “Ey Ian, forgot to tell you, there’s this bloke I’ve been seein.”

           “Well jeez Felicia, surprised you didn’t wait until I was walking you down the aisle.” Ian had always been one to tell her about his latest fling, however he’s pretty sure she stopped paying attention at guy number 5, and that had only been a month in. He used to believe every guy would be the one, but after a harsh break up with a guy he’d dated for a year, he jumped off that train.

           “Who says you’re givin me away?” She put on a serious face, arms crossing across her chest in dismay, but they both knew that unless she was having the wedding in London, Ian was the only one that fit the job. Felicia’s mom had passed years ago, and her dad was barely hanging on since then, cancer eating away at his lungs. Her only brother stuck around to care for their father, while she’d run away at 16, and only went back for her mother’s funeral – he hated her. “I wanted to wait till it got serious. It got serious, then I forgot.”

           “Probably a few too many lines of coke. I told you that shit isn’t good for you.” Ian tutted his best friend – she was a party girl, but Ian figured out how to maneuver around it. He always let her do her thing, and did a good job at standing up to peer pressure. He had a lot more restraint than his older brother Lip, who was 24 and already a raging alcoholic. Ian was past his party days, and had enough on his plate these days without the booze and drugs plaguing him.

           “Good thing my fiancé don’t care how dumb I am. He loves me regardless.” Felicia flashed her ring again, if only so she could stare longingly at it, as if the man who’d given it to her would appear upon her wishes. “Tomorrow,” she pointed adamantly at Ian. “You’re taking me out for a celebratory drink.”

           “It’ll have to be an early drink. I go in at five, won’t be off until well after midnight.” Ian’s work hours were shit, and the job mundane. He crossed his arms all night as he worked as an intimidation technique at the fairytale, a gay club in Boys town. That’s how he’d met Felicia, a rowdy patron who was way too drunk, and he hadn’t taken a single step up the latter in three years. At least he still have a steady flow of cock, his one remaining vice – he’d even given up cigarettes along the way, allowing his lungs a break from nicotine and weed.

           “Pick me up at two for an afternoon cocktail.” Felicia shook his hand as if that were normal behavior – what, were they setting up some sort of business deal – the two friends had been more of huggers. “Tonight, it’s back to my fiancé, so you’ll have to party hard without me.” For Ian, that meant one beer in the privacy of his crappy apartment in the heart of Chicago, streaming Netflix through the night.

~

           “So, you have got to tell me about this guy.” They had been at the bar for all but ten minutes, with Felicia trying to distract him with crazy coworker stories – she worked reception at a law firm. The girl was already sipping her way through her second glass of whiskey, while Ian had taken a few sips from his Coca-Cola. The bartender had given him a dirty look when he turned down even a beer with minimal alcohol content. He was ready to find it a maddening bar like in the movie Coyote Ugly that would spray him down with water for his choice. “Come on, what’s his name again?”

           “Mickey,” Felicia said with a slap on his shoulder. “He’s the one.” She had always claimed not to believe in love, always cynical about the future, which likely explained why she’d kept this quiet. Boyfriends had only fucked her over in the past. “He’s fucking short, only an inch taller than me, but he never complains when I wear heals. He’s got these stupid tattoos on his knuckles, but somehow I find them endearing.” She went on, and Ian admired the look of love glowing from his best friend. He used to dream about something like that for himself, before he learned that no one would really care about a lunatic. He thought he’s had it with Jacob, but a year into their relationships, and Ian’s meds went haywire, and he was committed for a week. He returned to an empty apartment.

           “I think I’ll ask his sister Mandy to be my Maid of Honor. She’s a kickin girl. Maybe you can be a bridesmaid! We’ll deck you out in a pink frilly dress.” Ian rolled his eyes, because no matter how gay he was, he wouldn’t be caught dead in a dress. “We’ll make you look so good, Mickey might even take his eyes off me and find you so attractive he leaves me at the altar.”

           Ian waved his hands in refusal. “I don’t want your straight fiancés affection.” There were enough guys that wanted to fuck him not dressed as a girl. He didn’t need to dress in drag to attract men’s attention – oddly enough, gay guys still seemed to dig that.

           “Whatever. You don’t know what you’re missing. He’s got a great cock. He’d tear your ass apart.”

           “Oh come on, I don’t need to hear about your sex life. Now I’ll be staring at his dick when I meet him.” They both knew that Ian was a top, not gold star, he’d fucked around more than he wanted to admit sometimes, but straight cock in his ass was repulsive. For all the guys Felicia never told him about, Ian told her in gory detail about the guys he’d fucked – she was the only person he ran to when he bottomed for the first time without getting paid for it. She always drowned him out with alcohol.

           “Who ways you’re meetin him? You ain’t even invited to the wedding Ian Gallagher.” Felicia waved to the bartender for a refill on both of their drinks, even though he wasn’t quite halfway through his soda. “Fine!” She cried as if Ian had been begging her for the last second of silence. “You can meet him. But no acting all high and mighty just cause you can attract classier guys than me.” This fiancé of hers was Southside, one of the few things he managed to catch while absently watching her lips move. Ian had been born and raised in the Southside of Chicago, but ran and didn’t look back much after he joined the military at 18 – even if that hadn’t worked out for him.

           “Oh come on. That’s a low blow. Just because I hate my family doesn’t mean everyone from the neighborhood is like them.” Ian was 23, not some baby that didn’t understand how the world worked. He had his qualms with his family, but kept it between them. Felicia knew as little as he could get away with telling her about the other five Gallagher kids, and the only thing she knew about the deadbeat parents, was that Monica was dead. “I’m sure he’s a great guy.” He better have been good to Felicia, because she never deserved an asshole for a husband.

           “I’ll set something up when he ain’t working. He works construction; it’s fucking shitty, but as least he makes money.” Ian understood; before he’d gotten the job as a bouncer, he’d sifted through some pathetic jobs that paid the bills, and allowed him to live as far away from his siblings as he could. He hadn’t wanted to chance running into them after he’d left for good when he was 19, upon his diagnosis of bipolar disorder. They looked at him the way they looked at their mom – he was fucking insane.

           “Mickey will hate you. He thinks straight edge guys like you are pussies. Guess he’s not exactly wrong, with you at least.” Felicia knew better than that. Ian had a lot of demons that followed him, but mostly his mental illness; it made him weak in too many ways. It stopped him from partying along with his best friend, and left him home most nights. “We’ll have to get you to help with the wedding, god knows I don’t know shit.”

           “And I do?”

           “Duh, you’re gay.” Ian had never been a stereotypical gay man, but that didn’t make him any less of a fag. He’d never fucking paint his nails, or where make up. Ian would rather spend a day bulking up at the gym; all this after hiding his sexuality for a good chunk of his life. In the Southside, with all the uneducated bigots, racists, and homophobes, it was a death sentence for a gay man to even walk down the street.

           “Hey, shut your face. You’re on your own with the wedding. I’m just showing up to make sure you don’t trip on your dress. Wouldn’t want to make a fool of yourself on your wedding day, in front of your husband to be.” Ian finally managed to finish off his coke and put down money for both of their drinks. “Good talk. Can’t wait to meet the guy that puts that smile on your face.” He hugged her tightly as a formal goodbye, and headed out into the burning Chicago cold, and his beat up red Ford that barely ran anymore.

~

~

~

           Felicia and Ian hid together in a dimly lit corner booth, both drinking a beer, albeit Ian was a lot more cautious with his beverage. The brit had insisted they go to a steakhouse, and fill up on a twenty-five ounce steak, and one of each of the deserts for the three of them to split. The best friends saved eating out for special occasions, so that when they did, their bill was well over one hundred dollars, accompanied with a twenty dollar tip. It was just like when he was a kid, and Fiona would run into a bit of extra cash – usually they stuck with buffets. The restaurant was far from fancy, but it was their go-to place, and a couple waitresses recognized them – they only went about four times a year, but they’d been doing so for three years now, and the staff seemed pretty consistent. The booth they sat in was busting apart at the seams, and Ian pressed himself to the wall to avoid sitting on the slash across the middle of his side.

           “So, is Mickey just imaginary?” Ian pointed to the empty spot beside Felicia, and the third, unmoved menu. They’d waited an hour, and his best friend insisted they wait to order, because he promised he’d come, and Felicia still had faith in him. So Ian filled up on the bread the waitress kept bringing buy, and finally ordered himself something other than water. He’d done his best at attempting to not point out Mickey’s obvious tardiness, how bad of an impression Ian was getting of the guy.

           “He’s jus’ runnin’ late. He’ll come!” She was adamant about it, and Ian had no choice but to shut up and sit back with his nearly wasted friend. Felicia was moping, but refused to lose hope on her fiancé, and ordered herself another drink every time the waitress came back. There was a full glass of beer at the seat beside her that she’d ordered along with her first drink, but she left it, because he was fucking coming. Felicia pulled out her phone as her mope broke out into a fattening grin. “He’s jus’ parked. I told ya ‘e was comin’.” He was glad to be wrong.

           Ian hadn’t even seen a picture of the guy, so he hadn’t realized it was Mickey headed their way, until he slid in beside Felicia. His arm fell over her shoulder, and Ian recognized the knuckle tattoos, the only physical attribute she’d given him – this hand read fuck. Their lips slotted together in a brief greeting, and Felicia followed it with a hard punch to the shoulder. “That’s for bein’ late dickhead.”

           “Fucking bitch.” There was a small amount of scruff on Mickey’s chin, and his mop of hair was black, with a hint of something lighter there, and those eyes were a stunning shade of blue – Felicia’s dreamy talk hadn’t done them justice. “I’m sorry,” he spoke softly and ran his thumb over her cheek. He spared a glance across the table to Ian, directing his apology to the both of them. Mickey kept his right arm securely around Felicia’s shoulders, but reached his left out for Ian to shake. U-Up was scrawled across the four fingers in the same unsteady spray of unprofessional ink. “You must be Ian. This one talks about you a lot.”

           The handshake was strong, but not threatening, like he’d gotten from other guys when he’d befriended their girlfriends – if Ian was straight, he wouldn’t have a hard time stealing someone’s girl, the amount of times he’d gotten punched assure that. “You’re Mickey,” the redhead pointed out. “Can’t say I knew much about you before, but she’s talked non-stop these last few weeks.”

           “I wasn’t sure she’d ever let me meet you. So, what is it? You don’t seem like someone she should be hiding.” Mickey didn’t say a word when he picked up the lukewarm beer, and finished it in a few long gulps, slamming it harshly back to the table and motioning his finger at someone walking by for another. Pothole duty must have really done a number on him. “I thought my family was crazy, but this girl’s just as batshit insane.”

           They put their orders in five minutes later, and another round of bread was brought around to their table. Ian laid off this time, but Mickey was quick to slather butter on a slice and shoved it down. “This bitch packed me an apple for lunch, can you believe that. How is that supposed to stop my stomach rumbling while I pour concrete into holes? I’d get it if she was a health nut, but an apple is like two fucking calories and no protein.”

           “If you wanted a cook, you shouldn’t be marrying her.” Felicia had tried to make Ian a can of soup one time when he was low – she hadn’t realized that it was a lot different than the flu at the time. She got him moving pretty quickly when his microwave exploded, and she’d tried to heat it up, can and all. “She’s also a slob. Glad it’s you she’d marrying and not me.”

           “Doesn’t sound like you swing that way anyways.” Felicia had always mouthed off about how much a fag Ian was, which usually led to her attempting to set Ian up on dates. He wondered if Mickey had almost been the culprit of the setup, before she realized he was straight and falling head over heels for her. “Must’ve been hard. Southside ain’t the breeding ground for pride parades.” Ian wondered what had been done right for someone that was so obviously dragged deeply into the drugs and violence of that neighborhood, to turn into a guy that could casually sit across from Ian. He still didn’t feel safe walking in his own neighborhood without a knife in his pocket – everyone knew that the redheaded Gallagher was batshit crazy and gay, because the drunks liked to talk.

           “Did you get out?” Ian wasn’t doing much better than his siblings, but he could at least say he managed to move a few blocks away, and officially out of the Southside, even if his roots were still bred in his bones. He avoided that old rickety house on North Wallace, and the memories that dragged with it. The last time he’d gone home was when their mom died, otherwise he made everyone come to him.

           “Kind of. Spend a lot of time back there. My sister’s still there, with our older brother, but I don’t really live there.” Ian recognized the pain their upbringing instilled on everyone, and they could easily swap war stories. They could decide whose parents were worse – he knew Frank and Monica were tame compared to others, even with both of them fucking off all the time, the drugs, and the bruises Frank occasionally gave Ian. “Of course, this girl had her life set with a rich daddy in London.”

           “My father’s money doesn’t say shit about me,” Felicia quipped – she’d never gotten a penny. Each person at the booth was equally broke, despite her background. Felicia had ran off at sixteen, and had only seen her father a handful of times since. “In fact, thing we might have to dine and dash.” They’d done it once, but Ian had felt so guilty, that he’d gone back and left a hundred dollar bill on the hosts’ podium, because he’d had the money to pay. It was a lot different from when he was ten, and Frank and Monica took the five kids they had at the time to some fancy restaurant. Their mom had just come back, after she’d left five years ago, and the group of them obviously didn’t belong – should’ve been kicked out right away for their appearance, because they were definitely too poor to afford it. Frank had ushered him, Lip, and their five year old brother Carl through a window in the men’s restroom.

           “Need I remind you, the cops hate me enough,” Mickey announced, easily dismissing Felicia’s possibly serious idea. “Southside, man. The Milkovich name is akin for trouble.” The last named sparked familiarity in Ian, not that he remember any of them, except maybe the father.

           “Any relation to, uh…Jerry?”

           “Terry,” Mickey nodded. “Afraid to say I’m his blood. I’m his son.” Ian didn’t remember much about the guy, but Ian had seen him hanging around the Alibi, and Frank slurred about plenty of their fights, Monica might have fucked him too. Kev told horror stories about the different shenanigans the Milkovich patrons had gotten into, none of them the innocent childish type.

           “Seem like a handful,” Ian nodded in sympathy, but didn’t spill into the dramatics about their asshole fathers. Frank was a pathetic drunk that left his oldest daughter to raise five kids, and Ian would never forgive him. Even if Ian had found out that his biological father was one of Frank’s brothers, rich and everything, the real dream for anyone that grew up like them. Ian had learned of this when he was fifteen, and much to Lip’s dismay, he refused to confront his father, because he already had his family. Ian Gallagher was never one to take the easy way out. “So, you were unlucky enough to fall for Felicia,” Ian commented with a breathy chuckle. “Are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

           “Couldn’t ask for a better girl to spend my life with.” Mickey’s right arm had still been comfortably around Felicia’s shoulders, and he squeezed her close as he gushed about her. “I’ve lived with a girl like this one all my life. Guess it was just a test run, so I was ready for the real thing.” Mickey seemed genuinely happy, and it shown in the way his smile sparkled in those ocean blue eyes, and his face split as he let out gentle laughs. Everything told Ian that that was the kind of relationship he’d been dreaming of since he’d understood what it meant to be in love. He was glad Felicia was getting her fairytale ending.

           The arrival of the food halted conversation, as the couple seemed starved. Ian had made the mistake of filling up on the complimentary bread, and instead pushed his food around while participating in the conversation between bites. He laughed along with the jokes, and hung off Mickey’s childhood stories, sharing some stupid comments of his own. Nothing was really serious at the table. Ian knew as soon as Mickey stepped in, the dynamic between them would be changed, and they’d now be a trio. It wasn’t something he was ready to give up.

Ok, if you made it through that, please shoot me a message, or reply to this post. I’m just looking for either reassurance that it’s good, or ways to improve.

[jackswimmermann]

You Know I Was Down For You...Chap. 1

Fandom: Check, Please! Pairing: Adam “Holster” Birkholtz/Justin “Ransom” Oluransi Rating: T Note: I’ve made some edits to the first couple chapters so I’m reposting them on my omgcp sideblog along with the latest update, stay tuned~

Ransom was quite for a long time. Holster tried not to panic. Tried not to let the dread settle over him again. It was a lot to take it, that was all. Finally, Ransom caught his eye. He was smiling.

“You’re gonna be a Falconer.” Holster grinned.

“And you’re going to Harvard, baby.”

AO3: x

[Chapter 2][3][4]

Adam left the meeting with a NHL scout, head spinning. A few months back he had started hearing from scouts in a few different cities across the country. Something he never expected even just a year ago. Sure Adam considered himself a good hockey player but, hell, it wasn’t like he was Jack “Son of a Goddamn Legacy” Zimmerman. He was just Adam “Holster” Birkholtz, one half of one of the best pairs of D-Men to ever grace the world of NCAA. Or at least to grace Samwell.

And sure, what little hockey-playing runt didn’t one day dream of being a professional athlete? But he had to be realistic now, he was graduating soon. He was supposed to be looking into jobs and praying to whatever god was listening that his degree wasn’t a waste of four years and tens of thousands of dollars. Not looking into honest-to-goodness National Hockey League Teams. Autopilot took him across campus and back to the Haus. He stomped the snow off his boots on the porch, shaking off as much as he could from his coat in the process. Inside the Haus it was warm and it smelled like vanilla and beer. It was a rather repulsive combination and yet it made Adam think of home more than anything else. Peeking around the corner he spied Bitty in the kitchen. Something was in the oven, unsurprisingly, but for once the blond had a textbook open before him on the table while he cleaned up. Adam thought he could sneak past but Bitty looked up just as he pulled away from the entrance way. “You’re back early! I thought you said you’d be gone most of the afternoon.” Bitty greeted him with a smile. Before Adam could stop him he was bustling around the kitchen. And before he knew it Bitty had him seated at the kitchen table with a plate of goodies in front of him. “Uh yeah I uh…finished up early.” Adam mumbled. At least with a mouthful of cookies he could feint good manners and avoid answering questions.

Adam still wasn't quite sure why but he hadn’t told anyone on the team that he was being scouted. Not even Rans. It felt like a betrayal, keeping such a huge secret from Ransom but there was something so bizarre about the whole ordeal he couldn't bring himself to talk about it. Besides, if Ransom knew he was considering signing with a team, he would drop everything to help weigh the pros and cons of the teams that had reached out to Adam like the team had done for Jack last year. Adam couldn’t ask him to do that. He had too much on his plate already, worrying about finishing classes and deciding on a medical school to transfer to. Dread settled on Adam's shoulders as he thought of Ransom. Rans would want him to pick the team that was best for him but he couldn't help but wonder about what was best for both of them. They hadn’t discussed it, but Adam had been looking into job openings in the cities he heard Ransom talk the most about. Adam had researched businesses closest to Ransom’s top five school choices. They were “Ransom & Holster” the idea of them being separated was…unthinkable. Adam as a NHL player would throw a wrench in all of that. Adam didn’t realize he had eaten everything off his plate until he reached for something else to distract himself with and it was empty. Startled, he looked up to see Bitty, watching him with a rather bittersweet smile. “You’ve got the same expression Jack had this time last year.” Bitty observed, clearing away his plate. Adam froze, a lump in his throat. There was no way Bitty could know, right? “You’ll figure it out Holster, whatever it is that’s bothering you.” Bitty continued. His back was to Adam while he tackled the dishes in the sink. “And you know you never have to do it alone, we’re all here for you.” Adam ran a hand over his face, hoping Bitty couldn’t hear his shaky breath over the splashing water. “Thanks Bits. It’s just…there’s a lot to think about.” Bitty nodded, humming his agreement. After a few minutes Adam stood up from the table. He was going to go up to the attic and…not think. It felt like all he had been doing for days was thinking and worrying about what he was going to do. Even the kegster they threw that weekend hadn’t been enough to fully distract him. So mind-numbing television it was. “If no one here can help, the seniors might offer some different insight.” Adam stopped, one foot on the stairs. He almost wondered if he imagined Bitty’s last comment but when he backtracked towards the kitchen Bitty turned around to face him. “It’s just a thought, but Jack and Shitty already did all this crazy, deciding-what-to-do-next drama. And sure, Jack knew he was doing hockey, and Shitty knew he was going into law, but there were still a lot of decisions to make.” Adam didn’t say anything and Bitty turned back to the sink. “It’s up to you, but a little bird did tell me the Falconer’s practice finishes early tonight.” Adam elected to ignore the smile he saw on Bitty’s face when he checked the time. _X_

Two hours and roughly five episodes of 30 Rock later Adam was standing outside Bittle’s door, hand poised to knock. Adam still felt odd telling the team about the offers he had received, they still felt unreal to him, but if anyone would know what he was going through it would be Jack “Hockey Robot” Zimmerman. At least to some degree. Adam could hear Bitty talking to someone (Jack) but his words were too muffled for him to understand what he was saying. Adam’s hand dropped. He was losing his nerve. But then he heard voices downstairs. He had to do this. He had to talk to someone to get everything off his chest, before he crumpled under it. Ransom would be back in an hour. He had to do this now. Adam knocked. Adam could hear Bitty say something else. Then the muffled sounds of someone moving things around. Then, oddly, it sounded as if Bitty was unlocking his door. Adam had knocked to be polite. He hadn’t even considered the door might be locked. Before he could dwell on it, the door swung open and Bitty was peering up at him. At first there was confusion on the shorter man’s face but a moment later realization dawned and he opened the door wider without a word, to let him in. Bitty’s laptop sat open on his desk, Jack’s surprised face watching them from the Skype call Adam had just interrupted. Bitty turned back to the computer with a smile. “It sounds like the frogs are home, and I just tried out a new recipe this afternoon, and I don’t know if it’s ready for mass consumption yet, so I had better go do damage control.” Bitty lied. Well, it might not have been a lie in his mind, but Adam and Jack both obviously didn’t believe there was anything to worry about if their expressions were anything to judge by. Bitty ignored them both. “I don’t want you to be bored staring at my empty room so why don’t you catch up with Holster?” Adam seriously hoped he imagined the wink Bitty sent his way. There was nothing discreet about this exchange. “Y’all have fun, I’ll be back in a few.” Giving Adam an encouraging smile and pat on the arm, Bitty left the room, pulling the door shut behind him. Adam settled himself in Bitty’s desk chair. It was not positioned for someone of his size but he didn’t want to mess with the settings. Hopefully this exchange wouldn’t be long enough to make the hunch to his back actually start hurting. Bitty obviously hadn’t clued Jack in to Holster’s need to chat based on the confused expression on Jack’s grainy image. “What’s up, Holster?” Jack was trying to sound casual but it still felt like he was using his “Captain voice," reaching out to make sure all the players were feeling 100 percent. Adam thought he and Ransom were doing a pretty bang up job of being co-captains but neither of them had quite mastered the “Captain voice” the same way Jack had. Adam studied the pixelated image of Jack. Adam didn’t recognize the backdrop but if he had to guess, Jack was somewhere in his new apartment in Providence. And despite his confusion Jack looked happy, happier than Adam had seem him in a long, long time-if ever. Suddenly everything was pouring out of Adam. The dam had opened and there was no stopping it. Jack took it all in stride, not batting an eye at the offers Adam had received or when the conversation took a 180° because Adam had remembered something else about an offer or had another worry that he hadn’t thought to mention before. Jack let him talk until it was all out. Silence stretched between the two of them until Adam was fidgeting in his seat. He wished he had worn his glasses today. His eyes were starting to burn from staring at a computer screen with contacts in, and then he’d at least have something to do with his hands. “Do you know what’s most important to you about a new team?” Jack finally asked slowly, as if he was feeling out each word to make sure it was the one he wanted. “You don’t have to tell me, but do you know what means the most to you? Location, Ice Time, Cap Space…Money?” For a moment Adam was frozen but then there was Rans's face in his mind and Adam knew exactly what was the most important to him. He nodded. “Then start there. Put that above everything else and then start judging the pros and cons of the teams,” Jack took a deep breath. “And no matter how good other teams may look on paper, don’t sacrifice what matters the most. Chose for yourself Holster, that’s the only way you’ll be happy with your choice. Anything else won’t be as satisfying even if the other benefits are bigger.” Adam nodded numbly, hating how simple Jack made it all sound. Of course that was the logical way to do it. “I understand why you’re keeping this to yourself, Adam,” Jack’s voice was soft but Adam wasn’t sure he had ever sounded more like a captain. “But I also know it can be really overwhelming. If you’re still having trouble later, if it starts to feel like way too much again, you have my number.” Adam ran his hands through his hair. It was starting to get long. He really should cut it but pausing for a haircut had been so far down on his list of priorities it well…hadn’t made the cut. “Thank you, Jack. Talking it out it…it helped a lot.” Adam stood up, wincing as his knees popped. “I’ll retrieve Bittle from the kitchen for you.” It was hardly more than an exhale of air but still undeniably a Zimmerman laugh heard from the computer as Adam went for the door. _X_

It took Adam a while to finally sort everything out but eventually he had a clear idea of the best choice of team, regardless of where Ransom chose for med school. In fact, he was sure his anal co-captain would appreciate the detailed, typed lists Adam had created and tucked away in a binder to study whenever he had time. The only thing that would have possibly made them better would have been if they had been made on Excel. Adam was proud of his lists and his choices. Which is why for the first time in weeks he was finally relaxed enough to enjoy what was left of his senior year. And why when a few weeks later Ransom burst in grinning from ear to ear, Adam was fully prepared to celebrate with his best friend no matter where it took them. “I got into Harvard.” Ransom announced. Adam stood up from his desk grinning wide enough to match. “Like there was any doubt.” Adam pulled Ransom into a hug, pressing a kiss to his temple before he could talk himself out of it. “So that’s it then, right? Harvard’s always been your number one.” Ransom nodded, pulling Adam in for another hug. _X_

Hours later, they were curled up on Adam’s bunk with sitcom reruns playing in the background, wrapped around each other in order to fit comfortably on the twin-sized mattress. Ransom tightened his grip on Adam's shirt suddenly, shifting as best he could to face his fellow D-Man. “Holtzy, I know we never really talked about this before now but I’m going to Harvard so I’m going to be in Boston at least five years, which isn’t even taking into account where I get an internship or a residency but-” “Providence.” Adam interrupted Ransom’s rambling quietly. He watched Ransom’s expression change from hesitant to confused as he worked through “Providence.” Sighing, Adam shifted his position as well, hoping he could manage to stay on the bed while having this Serious Future™ conversation. “I’ve received offers from a number of different NHL teams.” “What?” Ransom sat straight up in bed, nearly knocking his head against the top bunk and jostling the laptop perched on the end in one go. Adam met his eye, remarkably calm considering how worked up he had been before. “How could I not know about this? What are you talking about?” “I wanted you to make your decision first, about med school, before worrying about anything else. This has been your dream Rans.” Ransom looked like he wanted to argue with Adam about…everything but he narrowed his eyes and took a deep breath. “We’ll discuss that choice at a later time but what’s this about Providence?” Sliding out of the bed, Adam went to his desk, to his binder with the lists. Adam returned with the lists, handing them off to Rans carefully. Silence settled over the two while Rans read and Adam watched the expressions flit across Ransom’s face. “Priority was…proximity to me?” Adam wasn’t sure why but Ransom was whispering suddenly. As if worried about shattering the atmosphere around them, Adam started to whisper as well. “We’re ‘Ransom & Holster,’ you can’t break that up.” “Oh Holtzy,” “It’s 53. 6 miles from downtown Providence to Harvard University. Hop on 95 and we can be at each other’s side in under an hour,” Adam stopped at the look Ransom gave him. “Alright at each other’s side in an hour.” Ransom was quiet for a long time. Adam tried not to panic. Tried not to let the dread settle over him again. It was a lot to take in, that was all. Finally, Ransom caught his eye. He was smiling. “You’re gonna be a Falconer.” Adam grinned. “And you’re going to Harvard, baby.”

[fearsomelady]

The Girl Who Survived and Thrived

Her mother was in pain, it was almost unbearable but she still didn't lose consciousness. She was hopeful, and that hope was shared equally by her father. Her first cry sounded like a melody to her mother's ears. She relaxed. Her father was waiting outside the operation room anxiously, desperate to know his fate. The cry was muffled as he heard it from outside, he wanted to rush in and hold his child in his arms. A boy! Please let it be a boy! That is what he prayed for. “Four years had passed since I was born. I was in the kitchen stirring the curry that my dear mother had left under my supervision. Though she often told me not to taste the curry before it was cooked completely, I could not deny myself the simple pleasure. I took a spoon and tasted it, carefully keeping a watch for my family members. Much more than my mother, it was my grandmother who aroused a deep sense of fear in me. She did not like me and I failed to understand her reason. My tiny hands were now adept with the “karchi” and I knew how to make chapattis too, though they were far from perfect like the absolutely round and soft ones that mother could make. She could prepare a wonderful meal out of the little that father managed to bring home after a whole day of hardship. He was a farmer, like most men in our village. But he never wasted away his time like many others. He never showed his face to the card players, or gossip mongers, or those smoking weed. He did not believe in a sedentary lifestyle. He toiled hard in his fields everyday to make a good amount of living. But that year, the rain gods had postponed their yearly duty. So, we suffered.” “When I was five, my mother made a timid suggestion that I be sent to a school run by a kind old lady, who had devoted her life to the children living there as the nearest school did not admit girls. She taught them for free and even gave them treats when they performed well. My grandmother vehemently protested and I was angry with her. I still failed understand why she hated me. I was overjoyed when my father agreed to the idea. He took me in his lap and gently pampered me with his love. My mother had told me, he was deeply disappointed when I was born. But she never told me what brought such a change in his outlook towards me. Maybe he could not ignore the little ways I showed my love to him. Once, when I turned four, he burnt his hand while lighting a fire during the winter season. I was sad and I cried daily when he winced in pain. Tiny as I was, I tried soothing him with my senseless talking thinking he would forget his pain. He had never been kind to me before that incident. He would hardly speak to me before that and would never bring me any gifts like he did on my fifth birthday and every year there after. He bought me a bridal doll on my fifth birthday.” “It had been a year since I joined the old lady's school. It mostly consisted of boys, and they all teased me cruelly. They called me silly and stupid. Initially I used to return home overwhelmed, crying in my mother's lap, while my grandmother laughed and said that it served me right. But then I saw that the three other girls in my class faced the same circumstances but they still bore it well. They were still contented and only concentrated on what was taught by the kind lady. I noticed the woman took keen interest in the four girls of her class. The class took place everyday under the shade of a big peepal tree. I was afraid to come close to the tree because of all the rumors I had heard as a child about it being haunted. But as time passed, it became my favorite spot in the entire village. I devoured the pictures and text in our old and tattered books. When we started learning english letters, I could not believe that there was another language that people spoke. My teacher taught us numbers along with their operations and I was amazed by how simple the world seemed with their use. By the time I had completed addition and subtraction, my mother unhesitatingly sent me to the grocery shop for little daily provision. She was confident that I would get the right amount of money back to her. She was proud of me. One day, my father returned home with a piece of paper with numbers scribbled all over. I could not contain myself and I took it from his hand. They were big numbers. Bigger that what I had been taught. I returned it to him with a heavy heart. He took the paper and smiled at me meaningfully. He warmly spoke to me for some time about all that he knew of numbers. It took me a lot of concentration to understand but I was determined to show him that I could understand everything very well. I repeated all that I had learned in school and I told him one day I will do him proud. One day I will become his support.” “When I was six, my father took my mother to the only hospital we knew of, near the closest town. My mother had a bulging stomach and she was in pain. She told me she would come back to me with a surprise. I felt tortured. I did not want any surprise for which my mother had to suffer so much. I stayed close to my father and he held my hand tightly. I had no clue what was going on and I wished to be back home with my parents. My grandmother was happy when we had left. Maybe she was rejoicing in my mother's pain. She was never good to her. She made her work tirelessly even when she was unwell. She always cursed her no matter how well my mother performed. She cursed me too. I always wondered, what wrong did I do? I always followed her instructions. Still, she was repulsed by me. A women in a white coat walked out. My father pounced on her with questions about my mother. She seemed reluctant and nodded her head saying “ She is fine, but I am sorry, it was a baby boy, a stillborn.” I saw my father land on his haunches with his head buried in his hands. I saw him crying. I began crying too and I shouted out for my mother. I wanted to see her immediately and I begged the doctor to let me in and see my mother. Oh mother! I was so scared, so petrified by my father's reaction. The woman, kindly took my hand and led me away from my father. She bent down and stroked my stained cheek. She said “ Mamma is fine. Don't worry. You will meet her soon.” This instilled life back into me.” “When I was eight, my grandmother fell ill. She could not walk, she could not even sit straight for a long time. She needed assistance to relieve herself. But she never stopped cursing me and my mother. She blamed us for her condition. She was even more menacing. I was beginning to understand why she hated us. She was unhappy that I was a girl. She was unhappy with my mother because my mother failed to give her a grandson. I wondered still, what I could not do that a boy could. She was in the final stages of her life and the whole day she complained that she would die without seeing a baby boy who would bring some wealth and happiness into the family. She thought I was useless, a burden. I wondered, if her grandmother too thought the same about her. My mother, the passive and yielding woman, did not utter a word in protest. I wondered, if she was ever disappointed when she knew she had given birth to a baby girl. I knew by that time, that when she lost her baby, she also lost her ability to become a mother again.” “As I turned ten, my grandmother died a painful death. I managed to top the village school by then. I had worked hard, just like my father and now he was proud of me. My teacher, who was getting more wrinkled as the years passed, repeatedly told my parents that they must try to send me to a city school. She even took extra classes for us girls. She was proud of me and felt that if I had a teacher, a mentor who could nurture my mind and talent for understanding numbers, I could really achieve greater feats. My father still toiled in the fields. He too was getting older. My mother looked beautiful. But I could see age slowly creeping in on her face. She was never expressive with words like me, but when she hugged me, I knew she loved me more than anyone else in the world. I was her priced possession. I vowed to myself, that no matter what, I will give my parents, my gods, a better situation in life. They deserved it.” “When I turned eleven, opportunity knocked on our door. A woman from a foreign land came to interview my teacher. She took time out to speak to the students too. My teacher, on purpose, got this beautiful and exquisite white creature to my place. The foreigner knew a little hindi, so she tried making a small conversation. I smiled and replied back confidently in english. My language skills were far from polished but the woman was very impressed. She asked me what I would like to do when I grew up. I had this in mind for a long time. I replied, “ I want to help baba do better.” She took out a beautifully covered diary from her leather bag, and handed it over to me. She asked me to write and record all about my life in it. It was brand new and when I felt the pages, my mind was racing. I was thinking of all the things I would like to fill it with. She even handed me a pen. It was unlike any I had seen before. The only place pens were available were at a small grocery shop and he sold only two kinds. This one had a heavy black body and a golden cap. I felt for the first time in my life that I was holding something luxurious, something very valuable. But I only thought of its worth in terms of money then. It took time to realize its real value.” “From then on, life changed, completely. This foreign lady, took keen interest in my life. She tried teaching me more. I tried learning more. Then the offer of a lifetime was given to me. I was offered to live in the city and study there. Our village was quite backward. The men and women were generally good. But when they heard that a girl, and not a boy, was chosen as a candidate, they were furious. They were enraged. This seemed unacceptable to them. I wondered, if I did better than the boys, why was it wrong to be the chosen one. I was obviously more deserving. When I walked past the villagers, they passed snide remarks. They insulted me. These were the same people who greeted me everyday on my way to school. I understood that the attitude that my grandmother held for so long was deeply ingrained in the minds of these villagers. My only hope were my parents, my teacher and the beautiful white lady. My parents too realized how important this opportunity was. They contemplated for a long time. They understood my dreams and always stood by me, but what bothered them was the reaction of the people. The people they had lived with were suddenly jealous of them. If they did send me they would loose the confidence and support of the villagers. It would become difficult to survive. Then what had never happened, happened. My servile mother spoke her mind. She did not want any barriers to hold me back.She said clearly to my father that they should be ready to face the brunt. FOR THEIR DAUGHTER'S FUTURE.” “I was in my twelveth year, when I was walking back from a government school, in a city, so far away from my home. My heart ached when I reached my house in the city. It was a decent house, kept by a middle aged woman running a small stationery shop. She had a heavy set face and was perpetually angry. The house was bigger than my village home, but it had a much smaller heart. There were two other girls staying with me in a dingy dark room. We had three beds, two cupboards and one table all fitted inside. The girls were cordial to me. They too were from a village but did not speak my tongue. The little conversation we had was in English. They went to a different school. But it was the same lady who had given them the opportunity to earn respect in life. I wished I had my mother with me and her warm hug to cheer me up everyday that would motivate me to work harder. My father, after careful saving, had bought a mobile phone. So I spoke to my parents on a weekly basis. That time of the week was the only time I smiled. But hope was what kept me going. The classes were different. The subjects were tougher. But I was here for a purpose. I was here to give my best. I was afraid to lose, to fail, to be made fun of. And so I worked hard, as hard as I could in the given circumstances. I had failed in the first session exams. I saw the world around me collapse. I wondered, if the villagers were right, was my grandmother right? Were they right in thinking I was useless, a burden? I was beginning to lose faith in my capabilities. I was beginning to loose faith in myself. I wondered how I would ever be able to tell my parents, I failed. I failed them, and their hopes.” “When I was in my nineteenth year, I received my twelveth class board marks. I had managed to top, again. I did not wait for any celebrations in school. I took the first train I could get to my village. I was nostalgic as I walked past the places I had spent my childhood in. The houses had changed a little. But the people were still the same. They still felt I was undeserving. They still passed snide remarks. They still insulted me. But I was completely unaffected. I had managed to barricade them and their thoughts about me. When I saw my mother outside our house, drying the clothes she had washed, I ran and hugged her. She was delighted to see me. She was in tears. She held my hand and took me inside our home. That beautiful little house that was heaven on earth. I held out a newspaper page and showed her my photo. Amazed, she asked me what was written. She was in tears again when I told her I had topped. She took out a box of sweets she had prepared herself, and filled my mouth with it. We laughed and cried at the same time. When my father returned, he gifted me another beautiful doll. But this time, the doll wore a doctor's dress.” “The diary I had been given is now full of the phases of my life. I am now living a life where I know the worth of education. I know the worth of a loving family. I know the worth of hard work and I know the worth of faith. I have never looked back. I am not afraid to fail anymore. I am not afraid to lose. I am not affected by what anyone thinks or says. Because now I understand failure teaches you more than success can. I understood that being a girl is not a curse if you have those in life who will always love you. When i look back into the pages i have filled, i see life from a new perspective, a better perspective. I treasure life, i find it as valuable as i found that pen as a young girl.” The young girl is now an agricultural research analyst. She helped her father earn a comfortable living and now he has retired. She even encouraged him to learn how to read and write, so that he can spend a better life and understand the world better. Her mother has a cupboard full of beautiful sarees that her dear daughter bought her every month on receiving her paycheck. She even won a scholarship to study abroad but decided to stay with her parents and experiment in her own country. This girl is fictional. She could be any one of us. She never let her being a girl dissolve her hopes. She had the talent. She had the support of her parents. Please encourage the womenfolk. They deserve much better than the treatment they receive everyday. They deserve your love and care. They deserve good education. They deserve good parenting. They deserve a chance. Please don't take that away.