#yeah once I got over the initial hump of 'should this be one story or three drabbles'

[victorluvsalice]

Valicer Polyship Week, Day Six: Drabble(s) (Soulmate AU)

Day Six of Valicer Polyship Week, courtesy of @polyshipweek, and we’re up to the day where I had the most trouble picking a prompt. Most of the others had something that immediately stood out to me, but Day Six’s prompts were “Identity Porn” (a term I was unfamiliar with -- it was later clarified as “stories about dealing with multiple identities,” i.e., Superman dealing with being both Superman and Clark Kent, and I don’t really have anything like that for the Valicer trio), “Mythology AU” (while I have a fairy version of Smiler, I tend to go for generic fantasy AUs over specific mythologies), “Drabble(s)” (you know, keeping it short -- which, if you’re familiar with my fics, you know is not something I’m always good at), and the visual prompt of “Big Comfy Couch” (a “draw the squad” picture of a bunch of people on a couch, which could have worked but I felt something like that was more suited to a bigger polycule, and I was trying to focus on just Valicer for this week). As you can see, I ended up going with “Drabble(s),” as the post expanding on the prompts indicated that multiples of 100 were acceptable so long as you kept it short! And once I had THAT sorted, I decided that the best way to handle it was to use my Soulmate AU and write about the fact that, when the soulmate bond(s) first form, you have a symbolic dream relating to your new soulmate(s). My original idea was to do a separate drabble for each dream, but that didn’t work out great, so I instead did a triple-drabble (300 words) of them describing the dreams to each other. Which ended up being one of the easiest fics to write in the end -- perhaps I should try keeping it to 300 words more often. XD Enjoy!

---

“So – what was yours?”

“Pardon?”

“Your dream,” Smiler pressed. “What was it?”

“Oh.” Alice cast her mind back to the fateful night when the universe had inextricably tied her soul to Victor’s and Smiler’s. “I was sailing in a paper boat across an ink sea, under a purple sky filled with spiraling yellow clouds. At the time, I thought I’d just stumbled across some forgotten bit of Wonderland – a hypothesis disproved when I truly arrived back there and no one knew what I was talking about.” She looked between her soulmates. “Yours?”

“I was sitting in the roots of a glowing tree, with spiral branches and multicolored leaves,” Victor told her with a smile. “I felt so – so safe there, so warm and cherished, I was almost sad to wake up. But I was also thrilled, because – because it felt like my soulmate would really love me, if that was my dream.”

“I was chasing blue butterflies across a path of dominoes in the sky,” Smiler reported. “To the tune of the most beautiful piano music I’d ever heard. I was pretty high up, but I wasn’t scared of falling – in fact, I felt more free than I had in a long time. It gave me hope that I had a future better than Kelman’s little ‘sanctuary.’”

Alice nodded slowly. “For me, it felt like I’d finally come home when I ended up in that boat,” she said, voice soft. “Like I’d regained something I’d thought lost forever. A single moment of clarity and peace inside the hellhole that was Rutledge.” She reached for their hands. “I’m so glad you two were the ones to give it to me.”

Victor and Smiler beamed back, fingers both delicate and callused twining with hers. “We’re happy it was you for us too.”

---

[loquaciousquark]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E113 (Oct. 27, 2020)

Good evening and good night, lovely people of the world! We’re on the internet and ready to go. Tonight’s guests are Travis Willingham and Sam Riegel. This will be calm, controlled, and sane, I can feel it. Brian points out it’s been seven months since either of them were on Talks. Oof. (Sam asks if it’s been going the whole time without him. Bigger oof.) Travis keeps sneaking bites out of an acai bowl or something and tries to look sneaky about it, and I laugh every time because he’s just...so big. He’s such a big person.

(Brian is wearing a lobstrosity shirt. He and Travis talk about Dark Tower for a bit; then Sam tries to get into the conversation: “Is that the thing from It?” Brian: “Is what the thing from It?” Sam: “Is that lobster the clown from It? I’m not very literate. Is that a Langolier? Is that a Shawshank?”)

Announcements: none! Maybe they just forgot. We’ve been talking about Sam’s spooky skeleton decorations for like five minutes. Brian suggests taking them to Travis’s house. Travis: “That’s the fastest way to get to the smell of burning plastic.” Brian: “Speaking of your girlfriend...”

On Avantika: Fjord wouldn’t call it a relationship as much as a casual sexual interaction. Not official! Super not official!!

The first sea voyage wasn’t great for Fjord, but he tried to be thoughtful about preparing for this one before they left: praying, kneeling at the bow of the ship, etc. He’s a little disappointed the Wildmother didn’t even throw him a “yo, fam” heads up.

They weren’t sure how to resolve the conflict at first, since Avantika went for Fjord rather than the crystal. No one expected it to get exposed in that way. Travis thought the necklace was a pocket dimension and was alarmed to learn it wasn’t. Travis wants it destroyed along with the third gateway, so until they are he won’t rest easy.

Everyone enjoyed watching them all fail on the battlefield again. (Sam: “You used [Counterspell] so effectively!”) Travis thought he’d said Thunder Step, which would imply Avantika was running, rather than Thunder Wave. Sam says it’s fine since none of them have that spell and he wouldn’t know it anyway.

It’s very difficult for Veth to find reasons to stay with the M9. She loves the adventures and making a difference, but she also wants to come home and have weekends and have a husband and life. “She’s a career girl!” He’s very excited about the possibilities of Caleb’s transportation effectively creating an easy commute for her. He also, as a player, doesn’t want to be the person who’s always leaving the party. “My characters wanna roam!”

Travis was fully tilted that Avantika might have gotten away right before the break. He doesn’t think he could have focused on Vess DeRogna’s task knowing Avantika had gotten away; he was seriously working out how Fjord would leave the party to go make a last stand at the third gate if she’d escaped.

Sam looooves how Matt plays Yeza, but it honestly makes him feel a little worse at how encouraging he is for Veth to chase her dreams. “He’s always like - go shine! Go blossom!” He wants to have the conversation about Yeza feeling a little ignored. It’s fun to share the tales of adventures with Luc & Yeza. 

Travis says there’s no way it’s Molly--it’s all Lucien. They don’t know if it was a resurrection, if he’s undead, possessed, etc. Everyone--everyone--rags on Taliesin’s accent work. Brian surreptitiously claims Ashly was brought on to relieve him of the burden of the accent. Poor Ashly, ha!

Initially, Travis landed on the Oath of the Ancients, but it had more nature & pacifism in it than he felt fit Fjord very well. Many of them also had a focus on good & lawfulness, which also didn’t feel quite right; he also wasn’t that vengeful for some of the others. He & Matt got together and discussed options. Matt asked what Travis liked about Fjord; Fjord’s love for the ocean was a huge part of it, since Travis himself also loves the ocean & scuba diving, and so Matt created a custom oath for him. Travis does not plan to post its details, but he thinks Matt will at some point.

Cosplay of the Week! a lovely Scanlan by Air Bubbles Cosplay! Sam tells us the “canon” Scanlan cosplay was actually borrowed hodgepodge, and the boots were falling off all day.

It was really cool to see how Yeza & Luc have made a home in Nicodranas. Felderwin was okay, but kind of your basic D&D fishing village, and she likes the Nicodranas is much better. She’s confident & comfortable knowing her family is safe and sound.

Why is Fjord so interested in finding Sabian? To him, post-orphanage, his time with Vandren was the best of his life & the most love he’d ever received, because he mattered & had worth. It was taken by someone he’d known basically his whole life, so Fjord is not going to let that go. “That fuckin’ bill needs to be paid, my friend.”

Sam acknowledges that he should NOT have looked at his phone in re: the Vilya reveal, but it was pretty surprising! He can’t believe none of them recognized it! Travis points out the M9 had never met, heard of, or known anything about Vilya, so it’s not that surprising. Brian points out Matt has also done a really good job keeping the two campaigns separate, so any references were tasteful. Sam marvels that it was so well done: it was tasteful, had emotional and story impact... “That Matt. He’s getting better!”

Liam texted Sam back something like “oh SHIT.”

Knowing Veth had a chance to help someone else return to her child made Veth feel almost karmically forgiven for being away from her kid, but it also made Veth a little guilty--”this lady wants to desperately return home, shouldn’t I want to go home too?” Caleb’s teleportation spell couldn’t have come a better time.

Sam wants Caleb & Astrid to get back together (well, he says “hump each other”), and Dani’s eyebrows climb off her forehead. Veth/Nott really thinks Caleb needs to have a roll in ze hay, and feels like after meeting her that there is a kindness or vulnerability to her that could be worthwhile. Travis thinks she feels like someone tethered, that it feels like she has a bomb or something in her chest that’ll explode if she tries to leave. Sam thinks Eadwulf is super cool. None of these names are spelled like I think.

Travis found the dinner super frustrating, because he felt Caleb was trying to walk a diplomatic line and he just wanted to backhand Trent. 

Fjord is still coming to terms with his feelings for Jester, and the feelings are definitely real, but there’s a lot of timing that he’s considering and he also wants to figure out what the relationship is like outside of constant tension and battle. Fjord is also having trouble figuring out how to exercise the ability to display affection as well since he’s never received them, and is feeling out how to give and receive them. “It’s fine now, because he’s feeling it, but once you say it out loud, or once you come to a point where you make it known to the other side, then what happens? It might be ruined. It might be broken. Or it might not be!” The moment with the porcelain unicorn was too good not to try. Travis also sighs that he’s not a romance D&D guy, “but now I am! Fuckin’ Laura Bailey!” He’s definitely feeling it out and will see how it unfolds in the game.

If Jester hadn’t let go of the Traveler, Fjord would have either attacked the Traveler or the Moonweaver and tried to kick them both off.

Sam doesn’t think the Traveler’s realized yet what a dick he is. Brian thinks it may not happen in this campaign, but agrees the full weight of what he deserves hasn’t been felt yet. Travis: “Yeah, he came to the edge, but it didn’t cost him anything.” Brian: “Yeah, he’s a real edgelord.”

Fanart of the Week! a beautiful portrait of Molly in the snow by @claygryphon on twitter.

Veth acknowledges that they work for shady people with shady pasts, so Vess DeRogna isn’t her first rodeo, but this time it’s personal. It’s Jaws 2: Electric Boogaloo. Sam can’t commit to actual actions, since Vess is like level 20 or something, but “I will get some kinda revenge. Be it petty or significant, I will get revenge.”

How are they feeling about being in Eiselcross? They’ve only just landed, so not sure yet. The cold is intimidating. They’re excited to explore a new island that’s part of Wildemount, especially with the river of lava running through it. “It’s icy with lava? Sounds like a Dairy Queen.”

There’s still a ton of unknowns regarding the Tombtakers, Vess, the nature of their job, and who’s here on whose orders. They’re excited to see how it’s all going to play out. Travis laughs that he doesn’t take notes, he’s just here to fight things. It just washes over him when Matt starts talking about names and places. “It’ll reveal itself in time. [...] I don’t write those notes down. I don’t even know how to spell it off the bat.” I have never identified more with Travis. Sam actually does pay attention and take notes and was really impressed by Marisha’s dive.

Veth became interested in branding her own spellcraft as soon as she saw Caleb doing it. “That’s what the influencer agents are gonna be looking at. It would be nice to leave the world better than we found it, but also with some branded spells.”

What were Fjord’s thoughts on dropping so much money on the ring & the Ioun stone? It wasn’t about money for Fjord, it was about a cool thing to acquire. It’s why he saves money in his campaign. Caleb needs “as much of a flak jacket as he can get.” He also REJECTS the idea of buyer’s remorse on the ring and touts the effectiveness it’ll have on the lava river.

Travis talks about his old coins - a 340AD coin he bought at a ren faire and a 120BC coin that was a gift from a friend.

Sam marvels at the love and thought that Caleb put into the tower. Sam points out they forgot to go to the top two floors altogether. Travis: “Did the mansion get as much careful planning from Scanlan as the tower did from Caleb?” Sam: Absolutely not. But they were still thinking small in C1, figuring out how things went, and they didn’t have as much detail in their heads yet.

And that’s all the time we have for tonight! We end on everyone whispering way too close into their mics and tapping fingernails on mason jars. A fitting end to this crazy episode, I think.

Is it Thursday yet?

[gallavictorious]

Would you be able to write a lil fic from Kev's POV of Yev's christening party? I just know Kev would find Mickey's "guess what we've been doing, daddy" monologue hilarious. And maybe Kev notices Ian and Mickey being super soft after and realizes they're actually really good for each other?

An incensed roar; a table tossed aside; the sound of glass smashing, and of fists against flesh. Kevin Ball takes a deep breath and closes his eyes and reaches for nirvana. Or for enlightment. Or whatever. He isn't really clear on that whole bit. But he's calm, he's cool, breathing slowly, this is all good, shit was the noise of someone's neck snapping, no, no, he didn't hear that, it's peace, love, all that crap, he's so relaxed –

Shit, this is hard.

Fortunately, someone must have called the police and the police must have been nearby because it's just minutes before the cops storm in to haul off both Terry and Mick. The amount of damage done to the bar is still pretty impressive, Kev sees when he finally opens his eyes with a sigh of relief, but that's okay; the Milkoviches are usually surprisingly good about actually paying for that stuff. It's one of the reasons Kev doesn't mind them hosting their parties here, in spite of said parties ending in brawls as often as they don't.

The other reason is that they'd probably burn the bar down if he tried to refuse them.

Kev looks up from the sad remaints of a chair to catch sight of Ian slipping out the door, after the cops and their captives. There's this look on his bloodied face, something fierce and determined and grimly triumphant, and Kev can't help but frown, suddenly a little uneasy.

Thing is, maybe he should have seen it earlier. He knows he's not the brightest tool in the shed; he's okay with that. He's got V to do the sharp thinking, and besides, Kevin Ball ain't stupid about people. He notices things, and looking back, there's been all these little hints, shit Mickey's said and done in the past few months, and there's that thing he heard from a grumpy Lip about Mickey staying over at the Gallagher house ever since Ian came home. And okay, maybe he'd found that a bit weird, but Kev's been little busy lately by small things like becoming a father, so maybe he hasn't had too much time to worry about where his business partner might be putting his head down, okay. A man can only have so many things on his mind at once. Three maybe. He thinks he's read that somewhere. Or V told him.

But yeah, maybe he should have seen it earlier, but he hadn't. Doesn't get it until he sees them having a clearly heated but quiet conversation over by the side of the bar just before Terry shows up; then something finally clicks. Not quite into a certainty, but into enough of one that he's compelled to slide Ian a shot when Mickey runs off to greet his dad, and isn't exactly shocked when Mickey turns the music off to make his declaration.

Good for you, Mickey, Kev has just enough time to think before Terry charges at his son like a deranged bull and all hell breaks loose. Not that Kev paid any attention to that, because he's a conscienctious objector now; he doesn't only not do violence, he doesn't even see violence.

Now that calm's been restored to the bar, everyone but the most persistent drunks has gone outside to watch the arrest unfold, so Kev follows suit. It's freezing cold, the way only Chicago in winter can be, but he doubts either Terry or Mickey can feel the chill; they're still straining to get at each other, struggling against the police holding them down, and screaming blue murder.

”Get out of my house, you pole-smoking queer!” Terry bellows, but whatever hold he once had over his son must have broken because Mickey doesn't even hesitate, and there's a wild sort of glee in his voice as he calls: ”Fuck you, don't worry about it! I've been staying at Ian's since you've been in the can, bitch! Guess what we've been doin', daddy! We've been fuckin'! And I take it! He gives it to me good and hard and I fuckin' like it.”

That's more than Kev ever wanted to know about Mickey's sex life, really, but he still can't help but grin as Mickey humps the car, giving emphasis to his words. ”Fuck you, I suck his dick and I fuckin' love it.”

Mickey's always been an expressive bastard, unafraid to speak his mind. Kev finds it both hilarious and worthy of respect, though upon reflection maybe there's a few things Mickey has actually been afraid to speak of, after all. Until now, at least.

Good for you, Mickey, he thinks, again.

The cops take Terry away; the guests filter back inside. The place is a mess and the object of the celebration has long since been whisked away by his mother but that's no reason to break up a party on the South Side, so Kev alternates wiping up blood with serving beer after beer after shot of cheap liquor. Everyone seems to be in high spirits; nothing like a good old-fashioned brawl to get the blood pumping on a cold winter's night, and the story of Mickey Milkovich coming out to the whole bar at his own son's baptism party is a good enough story to last a few retellings.

Ian and Mickey are nowhere to be seen, Kev notes, and again there's that sense of unexpected unease, of worry.  He remembers Ian's face covered in blood, the hard look there transforming him from the earnest kid Kev's known since he was in elementary school and into someone he's not sure he knows at all. Ian's scrappy, like all the Gallaghers; bit of a punk at times, and way into that Army crap of course, but at heart he's always been gentle. Hardworking, and caring, and soft in the way none of his siblings were; a good kid, for all that he's gotten himself in a bit of trouble lately, though Kev's not entirely caught up on that.

And now Ian's gone and gotten himself involved with Mickey Milkovich, who is about as far from a good kid as it's possible to get.

That's not to say that Kev doesn't like Mickey. The guy's funny, he has some good ideas and great initiative; he makes things happen, like that whole rub-and-tug business (okay, so maybe there's been a few misunderstandings about how they're to split the money and whatever, but apart from that, Kev's got no complaints about having Mickey for a partner). He also pays for his beer and isn't a bad drunk, both things a bartender knows how to appreciate. So yeah, Kev likes Mickey just fine... but he's not sure he likes him just fine as Ian's boyfriend.

Truth is, while Kev's not scared of Mickey – c'mon – he's not not scared of him either. Sure Mickey's about half his size, but he's ruthless and kind of crazy and has access to fuck know how many guns (that he actually knows how to use, unlike Kev), not to mention a whole bunch of brothers and cousins and whatever he can call upon. He's a criminal, the real kind, and it's probably only a matter of time before he follows his father and his brothers into big boy jail. Kev doesn't judge – you do what you need to get by, and it's bad practise for a barkeep to look down at his patrons anyway – but he can't help but wonder what it'll mean for a kid like Ian to get caught up in all that hardcore Milkovich madness.

For one, he's not sure gentleness can survive it very long, and he'd hate to see Ian lose that kind heart of his; hate to see him freeze and harden. He'd hate to see him give up on his dreams too, though maybe it's too late for that already, 'cause of what happened with the Army and that helicopter...

It occurs to Kev that Ian ran away just after Mickey married Svetlana.

Oh, shit. This must have been going on for years. Gallaghers have always been attracted to trouble, Kev supposes. He tries to stay out of it, for the most part. Live and let live – and let V be the one to make the off-hand judgemental comments or give it to someone straight if need be. Sure, Kev's been there to throw some advice Lip's way when Lip's been particularly stubborn about something or someone, but there's no way he's getting involved in this. Word got back to Mickey that Kev had tried to meddle in his love life, no talk of peace and love and overflowing plates of cabbage would save him from a bullet to the head, and his kids are not gonna grow up without a father.

It'll probably be fine anyway. Not like he begrudges Mickey a bit of happiness, and Ian's a tough kid. He can take care of himself.

It'll be fine.

Kev keeps telling himself that as he starts shooing the last remaining guests out.

---

He catches sight of them just a little later, when he's finally done getting the priest – half a bottle of vodka and two hookers in on his road to heaven on Earth – out the door, and is taking out the trash.

They're laughing. Through the blood and broken teeth, they're laughing. Ian winces with it, clearly in pain, and Kev considers heading over to ask if they're okay, if they need, well he's not sure, an ice pack or someone to walk them home or something.

He imagines Mickey reacting to that latter suggestion and reminds himself of his decision not to leave his daughters fatherless.

Ian and Mickey has stopped laughing, stopped talking, now (and if Kev had been an introspective kind of guy he might have paused to wonder at how easy it is to think of them like that, as one unit, as a couple, Ian and Mickey). Mickey's head is sagging slightly; Ian's looking at him with an intensity Kev can pretty much feel, even from twenty feet away and with Ian's back turned toward him. He knows he should go inside and leave them to whatever it is they've got going here, but he can't quite look away, his concern mingling with curiosity.

As he watches, Ian rises. He walks over to Mickey and slings an arm around his shoulder in half a hug, before softly running his fingers through the other boy's hair and bending down to press a brief kiss to the top of his head. There's nothing sexual about it; it's affection and comfort, offered easily.

Offered gently.

Mickey doesn't shy away from the touch. He leans into the hug; there's a faint smile on his lips as Ian pulls away, and it comes to Kev then that maybe it won't be Mickey's ruthlessness that tempers Ian's gentleness, but the other way around. Maybe Ian saw something underneath all that sneer and swagger that no one else could see, but was always there.

Maybe it really will be fine. Kev thinks maybe he believes it now.

---

A/N: Thank you for the prompt, nonnie! <3

I'm very happy you clearly specified 'lil' because yes, this I can do! Tiny little things I can mostly make happen! Might take me a while, but still. :) It was very interesting and rather more challenging that I had expected to try to get into Kev's head during these moments (though it gave me an excuse to rewatch all of Kev and Mickey's scenes in season 4, which was a delight!). I hope it's somewhere in the vincinity of what you envisioned, even if it didn't really get into why Ian and Mickey would be really good for each other; I think that's a realization that comes to Kev bit by bit over the years. Would love to see some scenes with him and Mickey in season 11.

This ficlet incidentally got me thinking about how the people of the South Side would distinguish between 'regular' people who don't mind breaking the law when given the opportunity and 'real' criminals who makes a living by actively doing so. Seems like it'd be a fine line at times...

Oh, and I do know that tools in the shed tend to be sharp rather than bright, but think that Kev is the sort to mix up expressions (and I feel the need to point this out since I'm not confident enough in my English to trust that this kind of thing will come across as intentional :p).

[dailyaudiobible]

10/07/2020 DAB Transcript

Jeremiah 8:8-9:26, Colossians 3:1-17, Psalms 78:32-55, Proverbs 24:27

Today is the 7th day of October welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I'm Brian it is wonderful to be here with you today, hump day, another center of the week that we move through…well…once a week, but here we are in the middle of the first full week of this month. And yeah, the Bible is speaking to us. And, so, let's move into that. We’re reading from the New Living Translation this week. Jeremiah chapter 8 verse 8 through 9:26.

Commentary:

Okay. Let's think about cooking. Let’s think about recipe books. Like some of you are like extravagant cooks. My wife would be one in that category. I would be much less in that category, but above just making Ramen noodles. But we’re all over the map. But the thing that we usually need until we become extremely advanced cooking is a recipe. How much of this, how much of that makes this particular dish that I'm going to eat. And, so, just think about some dishes that we might cook up. Let’s say we grab a leaf of sexual immorality and throw it in the pot and then stir in a couple of impurity and then a handful of lust and then a generous dash of greed and idolatry, and then a cup of anger and a half a cup of rage and three quarters of a cup of malicious behavior and then a dash of slander and some dirty language for taste and then a cup of lying and bake that 350 after we whip it up and pour it into some sort of container. How yummy does that sound? And why do we keep eating that dish when there's another recipe found in Colossians today? And the recipe…well…I…I…I mean I made up the amounts, but Paul told us the ingredients. But what if…what if we made need a different dish? What is we took a cup of tenderhearted mercy and poured that over a nice base of kindness with several leafs of humility, a cup of gentleness, a cup of patience, two cups of forgiveness, right, some sprigs of peace and a garnish of love. That sounds delicious. Which dish would you rather have for dinner tonight? Like, they are completely different dishes that will have a completely different taste and outcome, which is basically what Paul’s talking about in Colossians. Paul was saying essentially that Jesus transforms us into a completely different person with completely different tastes and the old stuff that we used to munch on that were…were leading us down the pathway of destruction should be basically abhorrent to us now because it's the food of the dead. Let that roll around in your mind for a minute. But it does bring us to a point where we can think about what it is we’re munching on. I mean, I know that's a metaphor but it's a metaphor the stands. We all understand what we’re talking about here. What are we consuming? What are we putting in ourselves? Because that's what's coming out of us. That's the aroma of our lives. Like, that’s what we look like. That's how it is with us. We could say in this spiritual analogy “we are what we eat”. Ironically what we’re mostly trying to do is have like maybe a cup of impurity, with a pinch of humility, several tablespoons of greed with several tablespoons of patience. Anger mixed with forgiveness. Like these things do not go together. When I was a kid…I can’t remember if it was like Sesame Street or one of the children's programs back then, like, I can still remember all these years later this little, you know, little children's songs - one of these things is not like the other, one of these things just doesn't belong. Can you guess which things not like the other be…I don’t know…before we get to the end of this song. Something like that. Things that don't go together don't go together and the things of this world do not go with the kingdom of God. And if we just do some self-examination, especially about the…the points inside of us that have so much unrest, if we look at how that got made it might make sense at why it's turned out the way that it is. Maybe we’re trying to make something that can't work. It’s never gonna taste good ever no matter how we try to keep modifying it. Paul’s saying like, “you got a whole new pallet brothers and sisters, a much more refined one, a much better one. You don't have to eat garbage anymore. You are a son and a daughter of the most-high. Come and feast on the goodness of the Lord. And as we concluded our reading today, Paul's like, “whatever you do or say”...in other words…“whatever you're mixing up, whatever the recipe’s gonna be, whatever you do or say, do it representing Jesus, giving thanks through Him to God the Father. That is a great little garnish on the top of the dish but it's actually saying a lot because it gives us a barometer and gives us the opportunity to say can I…can I do this? Could I put this in my recipe for the day in the name of Jesus? Right? I mean we've discussed this before at a different point in the Scriptures, but we look at these things and say okay, sexual immorality, impurity, lust, evil desires, greed, idolatry…idolatry, anger, rage, malicious behavior, slander, dirty language and lying, which of those can we do in the name of Jesus as a representative of the most-high? So, we just have to ask ourselves, can I do this in the name of Jesus? Maybe I'm free to do whatever I want as Paul has told us so many times, but not everything is good. Can I do this in the name of Jesus or is this going to ruin my whole dish?

Prayer:

Father we invite You into that. We have ruined plenty of dishes, plenty of days, plenty of encounters, plenty of meetings, plenty of circumstances. We’ve ruined plenty of stuff by trying to mix ingredients that do not and will not ever go together. And yet You are calling us higher, You are inviting us forward, You are ever patient and You don't hate us because we've made bad dishes, because we’ve made masses of things. You’re just calling us forward. You’re just saying You can do better than that because You are better than that in me. May we recognize that. May we recognize what we are making of our lives we pray in the name of Jesus. Amen.

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And that is it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hello Daily Audio Bible family this Shelby from Pittsburgh and Brian just want to congratulate you and your family on China’s announcement for this spring occasion of the brand-new life. Your excitement and…and happiness really came through and it just brightened up my day and I think all of us at this time could use some more really happy joyful news. And it really touched my heart. I feel like, you know, I’m going to be another auntie. It’s awesome. Really happy for you guys. God bless you God bless the process and everything. God bless the baby and, yeah, it’s a wonderful thing. Thank you for sharing that with us Brian and I’m very happy to be a part of this Daily Audio Bible family. It is a welcome reprieve from the days, whatever, and I like it because it also helps keep me on track and…and staying in the word of God. So, thank you very much and God bless you and again, congratulations. Goodbye.

Hello, everyone this is Rebecca’s heart from Michigan I’m a first-time caller and been listening to the DAB with my husband Skye since January and we love you guys and appreciate you all. Just wanted to ask for prayers today. I fell a few weeks ago and hit my jaw on a piece of hard metal and whiplashed my neck and spine and that’s…that was right before we went on a 9 ½ hour mission trip road trip to deliver a hand cycle that we fundraised for a new paraplegic friend up in Copper Harbor Michigan. We were able to witness God’s love and care towards Eric and need prayers for his spirit to be opened to be receiving the gift of Jesus love and salvation. We also shared our testimony of our trip with a young couple at a remote campsite named Scarlet and Dave and another young man on a hike named John and we’d like to ask prayers for them that they will come to know Jesus and maybe even read the Bible’s we gave them or listen in to the DAB with us. So, hopefully we’ll hear from them. Besides my own need for prayer and physical healing, Skye and I need prayer for our marriage to be covered by the blood of Jesus and to pray against any attacks the enemy would come at us with. We’ve had three years similar to Job’s story in the Bible with incredible losses but we’re trusting Jesus and need prayers to find us new means of income since Covid and to lead us to where He wants us to be this winter as our landlord is selling our house. We’re asking that when we travel again also in our funky van that God provided He would open the door for us to share Jesus to those we meet along the way.

Hello this is Wonderfully Made Amber from Albuquerque this is my first time calling in a been a listener for a few months now and Daily Audio Bible has been such a blessing in my life and today is the 2nd of October and I’m specifically calling to pray for Lacey from Massachusetts who asked for prayer for her sick dog. That prayer request really resonated with me because I…I have a dog and he is my buddy and companion and I…I couldn’t imagine being isolated and alone without such a companion. And, so, first I want to pray. Heavenly Father thank You for the blessing of this dog in Lacey’s life and Lord You created this little…this little dog and…and…and You…everything is possible with You. So, I asked that You’ll show mercy Lord and favor on this woman and that You’ll extend this dog’s life. He’ll her precious dog in Jesus’ name. And I also pray Father that You will bring more friends, companionship into her life beyond what she has with her dog Lord. This is a hard time of people being isolated and lonely yet there’s still a way for people to reach out to others. And, so, I pray that in Jesus’ name You’ll stir somebody’s heart to reach out to this…to Lacey and to be a friend to her. And lastly Lord I want to pray for healing over her health as well, that You will heal whatever successes, diseases she has and that You’ll comfort her, comfort her and thank You Lord. Thank You for Your mercy and Your grace and Your love and that You never leave us and that You give us good things in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Hello this is the Anthony I’m calling from __ I just did hear my fellow New Englander and she called in from Cape Cod, Lacey I believe she said her name was, who’s calling about her sick dog whose her only companion. Just wanted to pray Lord for…for healing for Lacey’s companion…for Lacey’s dog and more importantly Lord that You use this as an opportunity to just help people, help friends, help the community reach out to her so that she’s assured that she’s not alone Lord because no one…no one needs to be alone especially in these…in these times. We just pray Lord for that community and that she through this, finds companionship in Jesus’ mighty name. Amen.

Good day Duncan the Piano Man it’s October 22nd and I’m remembering you because this is the anniversary of your wife’s death. And I know what it is to go through loss. You know, as I’m in right now mourning the loss of my mom, so I understand and I want you to know that I’m thinking about you, I’m praying for you and I pray that you would have a good day with the friends that you are taking out to that special place to eat and those memories that you will encounter in your mind, instead of bringing you sadness will bring you joy. And here is something I want to read to you it says, “do not weep long. You will weep today for sure I know but don’t weep long. Lift your eyes to heaven and see her in the Father’s arms. She will always be a part of you and remember that where there is love death is never the conqueror because God’s love makes it triumphant.” So, be triumphant today in the midst of your memories. And this is Soaring On Eagles Wings from Canada. I love you and I’m praying for you today. Bye now.

Hello this is Howard from Northern California sitting in the parking lot at Kaiser here just dropped by wife off going in for a biopsy. Need some prayers for the women in my life. Obviously, my wife got lucky getting this biopsy because of the great help from the lady that worked the desk yesterday when she went in for a simple mammogram. And then I also need prayers for my mom, she’s 83. She’s had some stroke issues and she’s struggling and Covid thing isn’t helping, no interactions with friends, she feels alone, scared. I try to get up to see her as much as I can. Her sisters are helping her. It’s a burden on them. So, probably prayers for them for patience prayers, for my three daughters. They all struggle from…a few of them struggle from some serious health issues and my oldest struggles with just trying to make it now that Covid took her job and she’s got two kids and her boyfriend, who he’s not the greatest guy that you want for your daughter but hopefully he’ll step up. So, probably prayers for him too. Thank you. God bless

[is-this-a-skam-account]

“King of Los Angeles”

People go to Los Angeles for a good time. People move to Los Angeles in search of stardom. But no one is from Los Angeles, unless you’re Lucas Lallemant.

These are the three main principles of the city every person there understands. You must also understand, if you move to Los Angeles, that the city is practically run by LLuv, the night club owned by none other than Lucas Lallemant himself. He is somewhat of a mystery around the city. Some people believe that he actually exist, and some people believe he is just a tale of a guy created by a gang to run LLuv. Stories spread like rapid fire about Lallemant, of things that he may or may not have done. Some say he bought the Elephant Man’s Bones, others say he sold his soul to the devil for his wealth. However, there is one consensus among all versions of Lucas Lallemant: that he can get whomever wherever and whenever he wants.

If you ever get the opportunity to walk into LLuv you have a one in a hundred chance to run into Lucas Lallemant. At least that’s what tales say. Or maybe you will catch a glimpse of his face from across the room, and if you’re lucky enough those blue eyes might even lock onto yours.

But for all of Lucas’s friends, half that stuff being spread around is complete bullshit. Sure, Lucas does enjoy a good one night stand every week or so. Well, okay, really like every other night. But they also know that Lucas can be super down to Earth (when he wants to be) and even though he likes to fool around, he secretly thinks about settling down (Lucas thinks he is smart enough to hide his secret longings from his friends, but they can see through him).

When Lucas isn’t at the club, he’s with his friends lying out on the beach, getting coffee, hanging with his friends in their shared flat (he would be too lonely living by himself), or he is too busy being helplessly in love with the owner of a small florist shop along the water.

“Jesus Christ, just go talk to him, Lucas!” Yann whines at Lucas one day as they are walking along the beach and he catches Lucas sneaking a glance inside the small shop.

“Wha-! I wasn’t…” Lucas looks between Arthur and Basile, hoping for them to back him up, but they stare at him with the same look as Yann, “I wasn’t staring at him. I was...admiring from afar.” Lucas finishes and proceeds to stuff his face with ice cream.

“Wow, you are so in denial,” Arthur laughs, “you’re even more in denial than Basile when he still thinks he has a chance with Daphne.”

“Hey!” Basile exclaims.

Arthur rolls his eyes, “oh, please, she’s the bars top bartender, and you think you actually have a shot?”

Lucas laughs at his friends shenanigans. He really appreciates chill days like these, when he can live just a normal twenty-four-year-olds life. He actually enjoys eating crap-tastic frozen yogurt because all the girls who live in Los Angeles are too worried about every calorie that goes into their body.

“But, seriously, Lucas. Just like, I don’t know, invite him to the bar or something,” Yann says with a shrug.

Lucas laughs, “yeah, right. Do you remember the last time I tried to talk to him? I tried saying one long-stemmed red rose, and it came out ‘one pong-stimmed reed…’ I couldn’t even finish the order I was too embarrassed! I just burst into flames and got the hell out of there. And yet you expect me to invite him to LLuv?”

“And yet you have no trouble hitting on guys when they are at the club, huh. I mean, seriously, you are sort of a slut in there, Lucas-”

Arthur hits Basile in the chest, cutting him off, “I think what Basile is trying to say was that you have a lot of, um, confidence when you’re in the bar and yet you just lose all of it when you talk to that guy?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s only because I know the guys in LLuv actually have an interest in me! I can read their body language and the look in their eyes is always the same, but with him,” Lucas nods his head in the direction of the store, “I don’t know. Whenever he looks at me it’s like my skin tingles and I forget English.”

Yann huffs and suddenly he is pulling Lucas by the arm back towards the shop, “that’s it, I’m talking for you.”

Lucas can smell the flower shop before he sees it, the welcoming smell calms Lucas only for a moment before Yann flips him around to face the inside of the shop. The front of the shop is completely open, revealing the inside to passer bys. Lucas thought the layout of the shop was really interesting. The multi-colored bins of flowers always catches your eye as you walk past, and the fact that it practically opens up into the street is so inviting you just feel drawn in.

“Excuse us!” Yann yells after a couple seconds of standing there with no one coming to the front desk.

Lucas is about to dash away and out of Yann’s reach when the man he was loathing (and yet wishing) to see emerges somewhere from the back. As his eyes lay on them a smile cracks its way onto his face. “Hey! What can I help you with?” He says and Lucas doesn’t miss the way his eyes check roam up and down his body.

‘You’re so pretty,’ Lucas wants to say, but thankfully his voice has stopped working. He swears this guy gets prettier and prettier every day. His hair is extra ruffled today, like he had just shaken it with his hands, and Lucas wants nothing more than to grip it in his fingers. The way he licks his lips is positively outrageous, and Lucas feels himself getting pulled in closer and closer. It should be illegal to look that good and also work in a flower shop. It’s like a double hit to the heart and eyes. And don’t get Lucas started on those rings. Big and clunky and so, so hot. Lucas wonders what they would feel like pushed against his rim and-

“Hi,” Yann says and rips Lucas out of his thoughts, “I’m Yann and this is Lucas. He wanted to invite you to his night club tonight, you may have heard of it, it goes by the name LLuv.” Lucas doesn’t miss the way the guys eyes widen just slightly. And even though Yann is the one speaking, his eyes stay trained on Lucas, “if we can get your name, we will be more than happy to put you down on the guest list.”

“Oh, sure,” the guy swallows for a second and Lucas tracks the motion, suddenly his own mouth feeling very dry, “uh, it’s Eliott Demaury.”

“Great! Thanks, dude, see you later!” Yann says and excuses them with a wave.

“What the hell was that?!” Lucas yells once they were out of earshot.

“That was me saving your ass,” Yann says.

It’s like any normal Saturday night for LLuv. It’s crowded, people taking shots, people disappearing into the bathrooms together, people dancing and humping each other on the dance floor. Except that it’s not like any normal Saturday night because Lucas is looking for a very specific face among the crowd. Or maybe a tuft of wild hair. Or the shine of very recognizable rings on long fingers.

“Will you calm down?” Arthur yells over the music as he finishes off his drink, “he’s going to show.”

“You don’t know that!” Lucas shoots back, “I mean, what if clubs aren’t his thing? Or what if he thinks that I’m just some young, dumb Los Angeles douchebag?”

“He doesn’t think that, Lucas,” Yann begins, but his attention is immediately taken by a girl who walks by. He licks his lips at her and she cocks her head towards the exit. Lucas rolls his eyes and turns away from his friends.

They obviously won’t be of much help.

Lucas finally decides to descend the stairs from his reserved portion of the club. He sets his drink down on the stairwell as he maneuvers his way past the couples who are vigorously making out. Going into the crowd of dancy-drunk people is a rarity for Lucas, as he doesn’t like to feel sweaty strangers on all sides of him, but he is looking for anything to take his mind off a guy with the initials of ED. Even as the alcohol pumps through his veins and the beat of the music starts to match the beat of his heart, images of a flower shop flash across his mind. He still only sees Eliott standing there, a golden smile on his face. He vividly sees the veins that curve around Eliott’s arms, and the lean muscles underneath.

Lucas feels strong hands grab his waist, and he is pulled back towards a broad chest. He doesn’t fight the motion and the guys hands help them move to the pulse of the music. They sway their hips, and Lucas even backs up further into the guys touch. Lucas wraps his left arm around the guys neck, and lays his other hand over the firm grip on his waist. He nearly moans when he feels a set of teeth nip at the skin on his neck. Damn, this guy wasn’t holding back. He shivers when the guy lets one of his hands roam up the front of Lucas’s shirt, exploring and mapping out the skin there.

Lucas spins himself around when the song changes. He is about to lean up and kiss the guy when he freezes in his movement. “Eliott?” he asks breathlessly. Well, really he wasn’t asking if it was Eliott, because he would recognize those eyes anywhere (even if half his face is covered by a mask).

Lucas can practically see the grin forming on his lips. Eliott pulls away the mask, and, yup, he’s grinning. “Hey, Lucas.”

“Um, I-” Lucas doesn’t know what to say.

Eliott laughs, which is barely audible above the blaring music, “I know, I’m so breathtaking you’re at a loss for words.”

Lucas shakes his head and snaps himself out of his daze, “no, sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you to come.”

“What? And miss the chance to dance and hang out with a guy as cute as you? Never.” Eliott says, answering his own question and squeezing Lucas’s hips as he does so.

Lucas blushes, which he hopes isn’t visible in the low lights, but his hopes are crushed when one of Eliott’s hands comes up and wipes at the apple of his cheek. And damn the metal of his rings feel even better than what Lucas could have ever imagined, “you’re extra cute when you blush,” Eliott mutters.

Lucas doesn’t think he can hold back anymore so he stands on his toes, closing the gap between them. He feels Eliott stiffen, and for a second he thinks he made a big mistake, but then they both melt into it. At first it is just a few kisses with lips closed, it’s new and exciting and it’s all about the exploration. But then Eliott’s tongue swipes against Lucas’s bottom lip, and Lucas is so gone for this boy he immediately opens up. Eliott’s right hand comes up and he wraps his fingers in Lucas’s hair, pulling just enough to elicit a moan from the shorter boy. The other hand presses against Lucas’s lower back pushing them closer, closer.

Lucas is unraveling. His mind feels like it’s in molasses, and all his movements feel like they are underwater. But his skin feels electric. All his nerve endings are alive and pointing towards Eliott, like sunflowers pointed towards the sun. Lucas just needs, he needs to keep kissing Eliott, or he thinks he might actually die.

But then Eliott pulls away briefly, “I don’t do relationships,” Eliott mutters against his lips.

Lucas bites his lip for a second, trying to think of a way to respond that wouldn’t crush his own heart but also get Eliott’s lips on his as soon as possible, “yeah, yeah, me neither,” Lucas manages. He immediately regrets his choice, and he can practically hear his heart breaking, but those beautifully sculpted lips on his right afterwards to ease the pain for even just a second.

The Uber ride back to Lucas’s flat is full of light touches. Eliott sliding his leg closer to Lucas’s so that their knees brush. Or Lucas’s hand being placed high up on Eliott’s thigh. Or Lucas brushing their shoulders together to grab Eliott’s attention before running his tongue over his bottom lip.

Lucas can tell that Eliott is absolutely gone for him as well. At least for tonight he is, Lucas doesn’t know what tomorrow will bring. But as soon as they are in the elevator, Eliott has him pinned against the wall. Mouths making out messily with teeth and tongue. They rub together and Lucas moans at the slight friction supplied from his jeans. Lucas can’t help but wonder ‘where have you been all my life?’ when Eliott sucks on his neck, leaving what Lucas knows will be a good-sized hickey by tomorrow morning.

They stumble through the hall, making as much noise as a teenager who is absolutely wasted and getting home at two in the morning. They clamor into the apartment after Lucas had fumbled with his keys for a solid two minutes, all because Eliott couldn’t keep his hands off him for one second. It’s Lucas’s turn to pin Eliott against the wall as they enter his apartment. Eliott doesn’t protest, well not verbally because his tongue is too far down Lucas’s throat, but after a few seconds he flips them around. He steps closer to Lucas, pressing a thigh in between Lucas’s legs and slides. Lucas doesn’t hold back the deep-rooted moan that slips from his mouth, and Eliott doesn’t waste a second in sealing that moan between their lips.

Before Lucas even realizes what’s going on, Eliott has his hands on his thighs and hoists him into the air. He instinctively wraps his legs around Eliott’s waist. Lucas trails his hands up underneath Eliott’s shirt, and quickly decides that he just wants it off completely. He discards the shirt somewhere along the hallway leading to his room and is so, so happy to have it out of the way.

“Third door on the left,” Lucas rushes out before Eliott’s lips are on his again.

Eliott follows his directions and takes them into Lucas’s room. He places Lucas down on his bed before turning back around to close the door. Lucas already has his shirt off by the time Eliott looks back over at him. His heart nearly jumps out of his chest at how ethereal Eliott looks in the darkly-lit room. Lucas lets his eyes trail down Eliott’s toned torso, and they catch on a tattoo that reads ‘Life’. Lucas thinks he falls in love with that tattoo as well.

“You are so beautiful, Lucas,” Eliott nearly whispers as he sinks onto the bed atop Lucas.

“I could say the same for you,” Lucas says as he looks at Eliott through his eyelashes.

Before Eliott can protest Lucas flips them over. He straddles Eliott’s waist and grinds down, just once, enough to make the older boy sigh into a moan. Lucas hums and leans down placing a chaste kiss to Eliott’s lips. Then he trails kisses down, down. He pays a little more attention to the tattoo there, nipping at it and kissing it, before he moves along. When he gets to Eliott’s jeans he unbuttons them and unzips them. Lucas pulls them away and immediately takes Eliott into his mouth. Lucas thinks he will forever replay the moan pulled from Eliott’s mouth as he does so. And the way Eliott rolls his head back, exposing the skin of his neck around his adam’s apple sends Lucas’s mind straight out the window.

“Shit, baby,” Eliott nearly hisses and he reaches a hard to grip on Lucas’s hair. Lucas closes his eyes at the feeling of the hand massaging his scalp as he bobs his head. Urging him on. Lucas pushes himself down until his nose is buried in Eliott’s coarse hair, making them both moan. When he pulls away Eliott rushes to connect their lips, even if Lucas’s mouth is salty. “You’re so fucking hot,” Eliott says hurriedly, “now get on all fours.”

Lucas smirks and quirks an eyebrow as he does so. Eliott wastes no time in pulling Lucas’s jeans away, discarding them somewhere in the room. “Lube?” Eliott asks.

“Top drawer,” Lucas says and motions towards the nightstand.

Lucas only hears the sound of the bottle before a finger is being pressed to his entrance. One by one the fingers slide in, and holy shit those rings feel even better than Lucas would have ever thought they could. He’s cussing into a pillow that he holds to his face, because with every thrust of his fingers Eliott manages to hit his prostate again and again. It’s driving him mad. Pretty soon, Lucas thinks, he is just going to be a pile of malleable play-doh.

But then his fingers are out and Lucas is being flipped around. He holds the pillow to his face, knowing full well that his cheeks probably look like tomatoes right about now. But then Eliott’s gruff voice says, “baby, I want to see your face,” and who is Lucas to deny him of that?

As soon as Lucas pulls the pillow away he feels Eliott sliding in. Lucas curses and bites his bottom lip as Eliott mutters encouraging things in his ear, “good boy, you’re doing so good. You feel so tight, Lucas. Beautiful.” Those words alone already have Lucas on the brink of coming.

Once Lucas feels them flush against each other, there is only about a two second pause before Eliott starts moving. At first it’s slow and steamy. It takes Eliott only a few thrusts to find Lucas’s prostate, but once he does Lucas is completely gone. Lucas has left the building. He doesn’t even register how loud he is being until Eliott whispers next to his ear, “you have the prettiest fucking voice ever, Lucas. I want to hear everything.”

Towards the end Eliott’s pace starts getting more erratic, and Lucas is practically pleading for release. Eliott is more than happy to give it to him as he hits his prostate one final time, pushing Lucas over the edge and he follows shortly after.

Eliott collapses on top of Lucas, and they both let their breathing steady out before Eliott pulls out and they go to actually lay down. Lucas turns over on his side and Eliott immediately comes up and spoons Lucas from behind. He practically melts at the loving circles Eliott makes on his skin as they lay together.

“You’re really good,” Lucas says with a laugh after a while.

Eliott hums, “only cause you made me that way. I would be surprised if you have a voice tomorrow with how loud you were moaning.”

Lucas kicks Eliott’s legs with his, “hey, rude. I was trying to compliment you.”

“As was I,” he pauses, “you paid a lot of attention to my tattoo, do you like it that much?”

Lucas shrugs and shifts a little further back into Eliott’s touch, “I think it’s cute. What’s the meaning behind it?”

“It’s just to remind me to take life day by day. To not rush into life with a thought process that could one day destroy me.”

“Take everything minute by minute,” Lucas mutters.

“Exactly, that’s what my mom said to me when I got the tattoo. How did you know?”

Lucas smiles, “because that’s what my mom tells me.”

The next day Lucas wakes up with Eliott’s arms still around him, and he decides to wake Eliott up with a...special treat, which Eliott seemed very pleased with. They washed up together, and Lucas thinks that is the best shower-sex he has ever had. After which they made breakfast. Well, actually Lucas took over making breakfast when Eliott set off the smoke alarms while trying to make something called a ‘PONI.’ They lazed around the apartment that morning and Lucas decided to put on some Netflix to watch one of his favorite comedians. And just a little tip: don’t try making out while watching a comedian because one of you, or both of you, will end of laughing and completely ruin the moment. Eliott said he had Sunday off work, so they decided to venture around the city together. They got some hot dogs and fountain drinks from a truck, walked around the beach (don’t get Lucas started on how cute Eliott was when he helped a little girl make her sand-castle), and they went down to the fair to ride the ferris wheel together. Every place they went Lucas had to remind himself that it’s not a date. It’s not a date.

“Did you move to the city?” Eliott asks when they get towards the top of the ferris wheel.

Lucas shakes his head as he takes a sip of his fountain drink, “no, my parents moved to Los Angeles and decided to raise me here. I never left.”

“Oh, your name sounds really French, I thought you might’ve moved here from France.”

Lucas laughs, “you’re one to talk, Demaury.”

Eliott laughs as well, “well, fair enough, but I did actually move here from France.”

“No way!”

“Yes way,” Eliott smiles, “I still have a hint of an accent, but it’s mostly gone from the few years I’ve lived here.”

“Speak French to me, baby,” Lucas jokes.

Eliott rolls his eyes. He pauses before placing a hand on Lucas’s upper thigh and slowly leaning in. He licks his lips and Lucas forgets how to breathe, “vous êtes si stupide, pourquoi est-ce vous qui a capturé par coeur.”

Lucas frowns at him, “did you just call me stupid?”

Eliott laughs and leans away, “something along those lines, yeah.”

Lucas is all too aware of the hand still resting on his thigh.

Life goes on like normal after that Sunday with Eliott. Well, it does for at least a couple weeks. Lucas spends the weekdays preparing the club and bar, and on weekends it’s packed tight at LLuv. He makes out sloppily with a few guys the first weekend. Guys that, if you squint your eyes in the right lighting, look somewhat like Eliott. It shouldn’t matter to Lucas that Eliott had asked for something casual, because he’s Lucas Lallemant! He’s a playboy who made himself a millionaire by the age of 22! He can get whoever he wants, he doesn’t have to wait for one flower-shop boy to come and kiss him to make him feel better.

Lucas maintains this thought-process the first two weeks, but by the third he’s holed himself away in his room. He debates on whether or not to go down to the flower shop and talk to Eliott, to tell him that he is looking for something more serious for the first time in his life. But he quickly shooes away the idea, knowing that Eliott treated it as more of a one night stand. Yet it still hurts. It hurts because it’s true that Lucas hasn’t really wanted someone in a more serious sense since his crush on Yann. Maybe he shouldn’t have slept with Eliott at all, maybe that’s where he went wrong. But Eliott probably still would have refused seeking a more serious relationship even if they hadn’t slept together.

It’s when Lucas is about to open his third chocolate bar one Saturday night, three weeks after his one night stand with Eliott, that there is a knock at his door.

“Come in,” Lucas says and his voice is hoarse with lack of use.

Yann walks in and he braces himself behind the door, like there is a chance that Lucas could attack him, “hey, how you holding up?” Yann asks once he’s all in the room. He sits at the edge of Lucas’s bed and gives him those stupid pity eyes.

“Nothing much. Did you know that bees don’t have ears?”

That makes Yann smile, “I didn’t ask what you were up to, Lucas.”

“Oh, right,” Lucas sighs, “I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem that fine.”

“Jee, thanks.”

“You know what I mean, Lucas!” Yann huffs as he lays down, “you can’t let Eliott get to you. He’s just some guy. But you, Lucas, are special! You’re the one and only Lucas Lallemant.”

“What if I don’t want to be ‘Lucas Lallemant’ though? What if I want to be sad that a guy I’ve been falling in love with for the past few months told me he doesn’t want anything serious? Is that too much to ask? That I just be normal for a change?”

“You have that right, Lucas,” Yann replies, “I’m just saying that...that Eliott doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

Lucas looks at his friend, “I wish he did. Maybe he would actually come back then.”

Yann laughs, “come on, let’s go get some pity-food.”

“Ugh, yes! I need some pity-food right about now, with maybe a little self-loathing on top.”

Yann takes them to their favorite open 24 hours Mexican restaurant. It’s run by a really cranky old guy, but that’s just part of the charm. Lucas gets an enchilada and Yann gets an order of their extreme nachos. How Yann manages to eat that thing while walking is beyond him. They walk for what feels like forever as they weave through the Los Angeles street. Lucas realizes they are headed towards the beach, towards Eliott’s shop, all too late and is about to backtrack when Yann grabs his arm. He’s practically pulling Lucas along, forcing his feet to move by skidding them against the sidewalk.

“Yann, stop! I really don’t want to see him!” Lucas yells.

“How do you even know where I’m taking you?!”

“I know! You’ve been my best friend for years, I think I know you by now! But after today I don’t know if you’re still my best friend!”

Yann rolls his eyes, “you are such a drama queen. We already passed his shop a few streets ago, would you just chill?!”

Lucas looks over his shoulder, squinting his eyes to make out the stores behind them, and to his surprise they did in fact already pass Eliott’s store. Hm. Something still seems fish-y.

“Alright, fine,” Lucas says and yanks his arm away from Yann’s reach, “I’ll keep walking with you...I guess.”

They make their way out onto the dock. It’s something that reminds him of his day with Eliott.

Okay, he seriously needs to get over this guy.

They make it all the way to the end and rest there for a few minutes so they both have a chance to finish their food. He’s missed days like this. Days where he’s just hanging out with his best friend, living cliche Los Angeles, but it’s still nice. He stares out at the water as the sun goes down. It’s like postcard beautiful out today, and Lucas is trying to soak it all in while he can. He closes his eyes and breathes in. He hears people laughing overtop the murmur of the crowd behind him. He likes listening to the soft eb and flow of the water hitting the dock. This was exactly what he needed.

“Thanks, Yann,” Lucas says after a while, eyes still closed. He speaks in just above a whisper, scared that anything louder would break the fragility of the moment.

“I’ll pass on the message to him later,” a voice says.

Lucas’s eyes shoot open, because that is definitely not Yann’s voice. He turns his head so fast he thinks he gets minor whiplash. “Fuck, Eliott, what are you doing here?” Lucas’s voice only cracks once, which he counts as a victory.

“Yann contacted me,” Eliott says, as if that clears everything up.

Lucas frowns, “I’m going to kill that bastard.”

“What, you didn’t want to see me?” Eliott asks as he leans forward on the ledge.

Lucas sighs, “not really, it was hard enough trying to forget what you looked like the first time, now I have to do it all over again!” Lucas says exasperated, and is about to turn around and storm off but Eliott’s hand wraps around his arm.

“Wait, Lucas, I was, I was actually the one who contacted Yann.” Lucas raises an eyebrow at him, signaling him to proceed, “I contacted him because I realize how stupid I was. I-I told you that I’m not one for relationships because I was scared of getting my own heart broken. I fell in love with you the first time I saw you walk by. You didn’t see me, at least I don’t think you did, because you were laughing at something one of your friends said. But I saw you. You were all I saw, actually. But, I know the type of guy you are from the stories I’ve heard of you, and I thought that...I thought that if I was the one who put a barrier between us it would hurt less. But I was so, so wrong.”

“Yeah, you were,” Lucas says bluntly, “everyone thinks they know who I am from the stories. From the tales people tell about me. I don’t want to be that guy that Los Angeles makes me out to be.” Lucas pauses not sure how to proceed, “I was falling in love with you. And it was scary, I will say that, but it was also exhilarating. It was the first time I had really let myself feel that way about someone, and then I let myself have a one night stand with you, because I thought that I would never get another chance. But I just crumbled.” Lucas didn’t notice he was crying until Eliott raises a hand and wipe the tear away.

“I’m sorry, Lucas,” Eliott whispers, “I wish I could turn back time. I wish I could go back however many minutes we lost and just start over. I hope that you can give me a second chance, and if time is what you need I can give that to you. But please make it sooner than later.”

Lucas smiles at that and wraps his hand around Eliott’s wrist, slowly pulling his hand away, “we can restart,” Lucas sniffles and sticks his hand out towards Eliott, “I’m Lucas.”

Eliott smiles and takes Lucas’s hand, “Eliott, and may I just say, you are truly breathtaking.”

“And you are super cheesy.”

“I try my best.”

Lucas laughs, “so, I believe that someone I met owes me at least 40,000 minutes. Do you have that kind of time?”

“For you? Anything.”

[softevan]

We’re Not Who We Used To Be (SOFT Mini Series)

A/N: So I have decided to make a series of scenarios based on specific lyrics from Harry’s songs which I’m so excited about because i’ve been writing all day. Some of them will be smutty, some wont, but ill put the warnings before hand. I want to thank a lot of you who have been supporting of me and my writing. If you have any lyrics requests please don’t hesitate to let me know. But I really hope you like this one, enjoy! -K

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 4K

Pairing: Y/N and Harry

Y/N’S POV

This week is the ARIA awards in Australia and Harry has been scheduled to perform. Because he has been on tour and constantly traveling I just think that he needs a few days off instead of going to an awards show. His manager Tommy had insisted on him declining the invitation to the show and have a non hectic couple of days, especially to spend time with me. But of course Harry being Harry he didn’t want to let anyone down and he decided that he wanted to go.

Harry always wanted me to come with him on tour, which is something I would be so happy to do. But my job is always my main priority. Through out our relationship, we had seen that we had been focusing too much on our carers, and neglecting our relationship. With both of our singing carers it was hard. But now with my tour over I’ve decided to take some time off to be with Harry and actually try to be here for him. Its his very first tour with just him and his band and of course he needed me to be there with him. Its not easy being on the stage by yourself, its very intimidating to say the least. But with me travelling with Harry I get to see and experience new things with him, and write new songs along the way. Knowing that Harry feels more at home with me being here for him, and knowing that I give him comfort when he sees me standing at the side singing along to his songs means everything to me. It just makes my heart swell at the thought.

“Babe, its either going to be the Gucci or the Alexander McQueen outfit, just pick one?” Harry came out of the hotels wardrobe with both his hands filled with these unusual coloured suits, with a puzzled look on his face, scrunched eyebrows waiting for my reply. “H you always go for Gucci so wear something different” I looked up at Harry, dragging my concentration from my novel in my hands to him then back to my book. “Okay sold” His cheeky grin spread across his face and put down the suits of the side of the bed, then making his way over to me. “Babe?” His hands sprung up to my book and pulled it away so my attention was on him. “H” I looked up and his face which still had the cheekiest grin on it. “Do you wanna grab something to eat?” “Yeah sure, I actually am quite hungry” “Okay cool” He knelt over me to grab the hotel phone to order in. I yanked the phone out of his hand and put it back to the server. “Do you not want anything?” The confusion setting into his face, I grabbed his chin to pull the smile back and I pushed my fingers into his dimples which I know he loved. “How about we go downstairs to the restaurant and eat? We can look cute and go out for a romantic meal?” “Sweetie I am so washed I cant be bothered going anywhere tonight” He pulled himself onto the side of the bed beside me with a sigh leaving his lips. “Harry its just for an hour or so, we haven’t had dinner together in a while” I looked back around at his face, still with a awkward look to it. “We had dinner yesterday” “Yeah, a salad in the dressing room” I sighed and pushed my body to lay on his chest with my arms wrapped around his waist facing him. “Im sorry it was just a thought, I know your really tired” “Im sorry baby ill make It up to you, when I have a day off we can do whatever you want, I promise” He pulled my forearms up so he could kiss me ever so gently on the lips then across my cheeks to my temples. “So do you want Chinese takeout or Indian?”

The next morning was the rehearsal for the awards show which was tonight, and as usual the preparation is crazy. People running around grabbing the lights, seating arrangements, the routine of the awards, scheduled performances, and of course the celebrities that are there to rehearse. I sat in one of the seats in the audience waiting for to watch Harry’s sound check for tonight when I seen him walking out with six people running after him. He immediately was looking for me in the room and his eyes landed straight on me. I gave a wave and made my way to the front of the stage where the cameras sit. “Hey baby girl” He crouched down kissing me and sat back up. “Hey H, you excited for tonight?” “Yeah I am, ill be fine once the performance is over and I get to sit beside you” I could feel my cheeks burning as if the lights were glaring down heat onto my skin. “I love the way I can still make you blush” “Shut up Harry and get up there” I giggled as I swatted at his shoe giving a smile his way. “Your going to be here right?” “Where else would I be?” He kissed my hand and got up to the band to organise the performance for tonight. “Y/N” I heard a shout from the left of me. I turn around and see Ella, or as most people know her, Lorde, came running to me and greeted me with a hug. “Oh my gosh hey girl no time no see” I screamed when we hugged for more than too long, but not seeing her for ages it made up for lost time. Me and Ella were really good friends when we first got into the industry. We are both signed on the same label and we kind of grew together. But over time obviously with our different lives and fame we kind of grew apart, but of course we still are good friends. “Congrats on the big tour chick” “Aw thank you, I’m just glad that I now have time to see and spend time with Harry, he’s having so much fun and I’m so happy to see him happy” I giggled at her. Her face didn’t rocipacate. “Are you happy though?” “Of course I am why wouldn’t I be?” She pulled her arm out, initiating to take a seat beside her. “Look Y/N I know when your not happy about something, is it Harry?” “No no its not Harry at all” “Then what is it?” I took a deep breath, and just let it out to her. “I don’t know, I just feel like recently we haven’t been as close as what we were before he released his music. Dont get me wrong we are still close, but I mean, I hate to say this, but- I kinda feel like we are growing apart a little” She looked down at my hands that were clawing down my jeans, which might as well have holes in them at this point. “If that’s the way you feel then maybe you should talk to him about it” “Yeah” I look over to Harry that was talking to one of the guitar players in the band, showing him the certain chords on the guitar he wanted played. Looking at him I know I couldn’t do it to him, not here and not when the whole tour is happening. It was crush him. “No, I cant bring it up now, its just, theres too much going on right now” “Well, I do think you need to talk eventually” My gaze went straight back to Lorde, which she had a sympathetic smile to it. She does have a point, but right now, it needs to be shot to the back of my head. My main concern right now s supporting Harry tonight. The chords from Kiwi came on and my full attention went straight to him with the music going straight through my body.

A few hours later I was finally finished hair and makeup when I hear him coming into the room with a few other people talking about the show tonight. I looked at Lou that was telling me a story about Lux and how she has started to take an interest in makeup. “And I said to her no yeh cant use nail polish for eyeshadow, I nearly had a heart attack then” Her accent strong like Harry’s always made me feel more comforted, I’m not sure why. Was probably the accent, which is stupid, but its always the small things for me. “Baby you look beautiful” Harry came over with food in hand and pushed a kiss to my head while Lou was still trying to perfect it. “Harold get away, glam squad here, no boys aloud innit” My face srunched up with laughter seeing Harry’s reaction. “Fine Im leaving, in a huff” He flicked his imaginary hair and walked off to the door. “As long as your huffs over in an hour to come back so I can do your hair you can huff to your hearts content pet” The laughter coming out of me was nearly the worst laugh in history, but the way they get along just makes you want to piss your pants. “You guys are so funny together Lou” “I mean its a pure comical show so yeh cant really get it anywhere else can yeh?” We both giggled and I got up to make my way into get changed.

When we were close to the red carpet of the ARIA’s I start to see Harry tense up a litte beside me, which made my hand glide up his thigh. “Hey youll be fine” “I know love, just not a huge fan of the red carpet bit” “I know, that’s what I’m here for, remember?” My eyes looked up into his nervous ones, reading him is so easy, you just know what he is feeling just by looking at him. “Just keep your eyes on me, right?” “Right” I felt a small kiss to my cheek as I looked back to the window of the car. I sometimes think to myself how can I make him feel better, he should be used to this kind of stuff. He has been doing it longer than what I have been. But then again everyone doesn’t like any of their job do they?

The night went smoothly, no humps or hiccups with the whole night. His performance was outstanding as normal, and on top of that he won best international artist which is amazing. He never gives himself credit for what he has done and want he can do. But then again when I think of myself being an artist I never think that I’m perfect. “I’m so glad to be home, well, back to the hotel I guess” He chuckled as I went to set my bag down on the kitchen table and he look off his blazer. “Babe I have to say, if that skirt was any shorter, I could of easily slipped inside of you when you were sitting on my lap after the show, fuck you looked so hot tonight” His hands automatically went straight to the back of my thighs and rubbed there way up underneath my skirt, clutching my bum. I quickly turned around so his hands couldn’t get where they wanted to. I knew where this was going. “Oh so you want to do it now?” His breathes got deeper as his eyes trailed around my body, eyeing me up like a piece of candy. “Of course, love, I just wanna bend you over this table” His ring covered hands found their spot again straight to my bum, clutching it in his palms, giving me a good squeeze. “Baby you torture me” His eyes reverted back to mine, trying to read me. I wasn’t really feeling the whole atmosphere. Since I talked to Lorde it really got me thinking about us and this whole ‘problem’ if that’s what I even wanna call it. I need to bring this up now before its too late. “Harry, every time I wanna have sex you say your too tired, now you want to?” “Well, yeah, why wouldn’t I?” His eyes gave out confusion that set to my lips then back to my eyes. “Look Harry, I really need to talk to you” I pulled his hands away from my bum and pushed him away to I could look at him properly. “Y/N, are you okay love?” He leaned on the chair that was sitting in front of him, waiting for me to make a coherent sentence that didn’t seem too stupid. How can I even start this conversation. “Harry, I feel like recently, this between us, well, they aren’t the way they used to be before” His face grew puzzled at my statement, never taking his eyes off of me. “I feel like somethings not right here, with us, is there something wrong with us?” “Of course there isn’t baby girl, I mean all couples kinda go through this I guess, but there is nothing wrong with us” He started to make his way back to me and I pulled myself back to the same distance that we were in before. I didn’t want him thinking that this conversation was over when it was just getting started. I didn’t want to brush off this conversation for the sake of not getting into a fight. I hate confrontation but this just needs to be said to him. “Harry I’m not happy. Im not happy that the fact that when I bring up something to do or something that I want to do that you always brush it off to the side and not make it a big deal. Like the few times that ive asked you to come with me and have a romantic meal or go for a walk, or even just to get coffee and spend some alone time together before you have a show. Look I know that you have the tour and I know that it can be stressful. But I’m here too, I know that I’m here for you to support you but I’m here, I need some Harry time to myself, and not with other people around shouting at you one million things.” His face just sat there, emotionless. He had no vibes coming from him, which is never a good thing when it comes to Harry. Not being able to ready him makes me think did I do the right thing and even bring this up?

“We do have alone time, when I come home from a show and we cuddle in bed with a dvd” “Harry that’s not spending time with someone, that’s just laying down before bed. We aren’t talking, we are just laying there until we fall asleep. That’s not being with each other” “Well in my eyes that counts for something” “Well in my eyes it doesn’t” The air in the room gets thicker and the tension starts to rise. “I feel like your not trying anymore H. I gave up my whole life to be here with you when I could have been at home right now” “Oh please, don’t give me this guilt bullshit” “I could have been writing songs for another album, and gee I don’t know, spending time with my family?” “So to get your own way in this fight you want to make me feel bad about you coming out here with me and throwing that back in my face?” “Oh so now its an arugment?” “Did you really think that this was going to be a good and smooth conversation Y/N?” His voice raised to a scary tone as he started to walk across to the other side of the kitchen. “I don’t know what you want me to do Y/N, just say to everyone ‘hey I wanna spend time with my girlfriend so I’m going to cancel a few shows here and there. Its not like that you know, I cant just take time off when I want it. This is my job. I am exhausted” “Harry I’m not asking you to give up tour dates for me, I’m asking you to make an hour just for us. Im not asking for a whole day. Even just a dinner, or something. But your not even trying, I feel like I’m the one that’s only trying here” I walked to the side of the sofa and sat down on it, looking down at my hands as the tears streamed down my face. “I feel as if you don’t love me anymore Harry” “What the fuck kind of statement is that? If I didn’t love you anymore, I wouldn’t care where you would go, I wouldn’t care if you were here or not, I wouldn’t give two fucks about you” My blood started to boil again and I got up to face his red complextion. “If you even fucking cared about me and our relationship we shouldn’t be even having this conversation. Im only asking for one fucking hour of your time, to actually spend time with your 4 year long girlfriend. Thats not a lot I’m asking here since your the one that’s asking for my full 24 hour time. You asked me to come with you not me” “And you said yes, you didn’t have to say yes, you could have easily said that you wanted to spend time with your family because I would have understood” “No Harry I wanted to come with you because I thought that it would have been an experience that I wouldn’t ever want to forget, to be with my boyfriend and to travel the world and see things that I didn’t see when I was alone” A small silence stilled as we took in what was said in the space of ten minutes. “I was thinking of the things that we could have been doing, as a couple. Making our relationship stronger” His face never left the ground, with his hands clasped around the sides of the marble designed island made me see that this was getting to him. I never thought that this conversation would have gotten this far. But it goes to show that he really didn’t think about it. I walked up to him and stood right in front of him and forced him to look at me. “How many times did you come out to see me when I was touring and you were away making your album?” “Dont pull this bullsh-“ “How many times did you come out to see me when I was touring and you were away making your album?” I repeated with a more stern tone to it. I needed to get him to see what was really going on, but it still wasn’t clicking. “Once” He mumbled with his face hung to the ground; keeping his face away from mine. “How many times?” I asked him to repeated it. “Once” His voice raised as he looked up at me. “Yeah, once out of 32 shows. That just proves my point, I’m done with this conversation” I started to walk away from him and he grabbed my arm with great force to stop me in my tracks. “Dont just walk away from this when you think your done, its not done here” “Right okay, lets keep fighting the same fight. If that’s what will get you to see it then please ill be happy to” I pulled my arms away from his grasp and folded my arms looking directly at him. “Y/N, if you really think that I don’t care, and brought you out here to waste your time, or just use you for comfort from home, then maybe you should leave and go home. Because to the quite honest with you, this attitude, is really getting on my last nerve” The attitude that was streaming from his body language was something I never thought I would see coming from him. He started to walk away into the kitchen when of course I followed him, with a lot more coming into mind. I wanted to make sure I didn’t forget anything that I had planned to say in my head. “I try so much for you Harry and your the one that throws it in my face. You really think that I’m giving you attitude? Yeah actually, maybe I am, because its the only way to get it through your thick skull that is whole thing is ruining our relationship” “Eh no actually Y/N because this whole relationship was fine until tonight” “You thought that it was a fine relationship” Once again a silence broke through the room waiting for someone to say something. I knew if I needed to explain more to him about us then it wasn’t even worth trying anymore. “Harry I shouldn’t have to explain to you if I’m happy. You should know that. You cant be this great guy int he public eye and then be a complete dick behind closed doors. Your either one person or the other, which is it? I fell in love with the nice charming guy that would do anything to be with me, and treat me with respect and treat me like no other guy would treat me. But that guy isn’t there anymore. I cant wait for him” I couldn’t keep my tears back looking at him. I was standing there pouring my heart out to him and he just stood there, facing me, watching me, looking right through me. Maybe I’m starting to break him. “I love you Harry. Not the guy that’s standing in front of me right now, but the guy that I met 4 years ago” I started to walk into the bedroom across the hall and slammed the door shut behind me. Thats when I broke, so hard. I held it in for so long trying to be strong to get everything out, and now that its out in the open, I kinda feel glad that I said it, but also regret it. Im thinking back to an hour ago and just thinking I should have just had sex with him and it would have been a good night. But it would ave just been me prolonging the enevitable.

Once I calmed myself down I decided to get myself back to our house in London to give us some space because at this point I think that’s all we need. I made sure that all of my stuff from travelling around was in my suitcase and zipped it up. I looked around the room and to Harry’s suitcase. Just knowing that I cant look for one of his graphic t shirts to wear to bed just made my heart break, but I know that doing this will help make him see that I’m serious about this.

I made my way down the halls trailing my suitcases at hand with the phone to my ear talking to the driver, and I seen Harry sitting on the sofa looking straight my direction. “Okay thank you, ill see you in 5” I hung up the phone and tried to ignore the fact that Harry was sitting watching me as I made my way to the door. “Y/N” He jumped up off of the sofa and hit his hand off of the door so I couldn’t open it. “Why are you doing this, why are you leaving?” “If you cant see that this is our main problem, I cant help you. We both need time to think about this” I grab the door handle and harry pulled it away. “Need time to think about what? Y/N we can talk about this and we can figure this out” His eyes began to fill up with tears. “Harry I cant sit here and pretend that everything’s okay when its not. I cant do this relationship if its one sided, its either we work 50/50 or I’m done” I pulled his hand away from the door handle and walked out the door with my suitcases. As I walk down the hallway I hear the faint noises of a scream and a loud smash coming from our room; hearing what this is doing to him just is breaking me into two, making me think that is this the right thing I’m doing. But what is breaking my heart each time I took a step, he wasn’t chasing me.

[mogdaze-blog]

The Trapdoors - Short Story

There's a lot of lies floating around about love.

I think the first is this mythical idea of "true love," like in a world of seven or eight billion people there's only going to be one unique piece that fits the gap in your jigsaw puzzle. Sounds so ridiculous when said aloud. It's a childish notion, cooked up by fairy tales and bad romantic comedies trying to distil the nuance of human connection into a cool, marketable hour and forty minutes. The reality is that any sincerely-felt love is true love - and just because you may love one person more than another, it doesn't mean the first love wasn't real. It's all real.

For some reason, that's just a fact we like to deny ourselves. Makes things feel more clear-cut, I suppose.

The second lie is about the permanence of love. I'm not a pessimist, never have been, but it's unhealthy to deny the facts. Love, in a sense, is like life: it can be beautiful, it can be terrible, but most important to remember is that it'll be there one day, and just not there the next. Everything, in the grand scheme of things, is temporary.

My husband Tyler and I came to this conclusion many years back. Our love had been there one day, and then just...not. It's funny how arbitrary the whole process can be. We weren't bitter or hateful, there was no resentment between us - we just made the mutual decision to wake up from a dream that didn't feel so sweet anymore.

We kept the whole arrangement mature, even business-like. We'd been married for ten years, almost to the day, so even if we'd decided not to be spouses any longer, we were still friends. We knew each other better than anyone, from the surface of the skin to the deepest crevices of the soul. For a decade, we'd had all-access passes to the museums of one another. The split would be a clean, surgical amputation of his life from mine.

Tyler, we both decided, would move out to an apartment in the city nearer to the credit company where he worked at the time. I'd remain the owner of our bungalow in the suburbs, closer to the day-care where I was working. Our lawyers brokered an amicable deal that we both agreed upon, and with the legal proceedings underway, all that was left to do was liberate his stuff from the house.

He was in the study, packing away all his ring-binders and credit files into a large, plastic storage box. We'd gone halves on renting a truck to get it all done in one night - we didn't want to get a moving company involved, that felt too impersonal. We'd built this life together, and it felt appropriate to be together when we took it apart.

Looking at him there, his calm face - still somehow boyish and youthful after all this time - his broad shoulders, his thick arms that filled out the shirt he was wearing. I could see even then why I'd loved this man once.

"I didn't realise how much crap I had stashed in here until now," he said with a quiet chuckle, trying to relieve pressure like he was lancing a boil, "I think we oughta take a trip down to the dump before we unpack the rest of my stuff. We could both use the space."

Tyler was always like this. Humble, self-effacing. He reminded me of the man I missed, catching glimpses of him here and there.

"The night's still young," I said to him, "we'll see what time it is when we're done, maybe we'll get a chance to take a detour."

This was the latest in a long line of plastic storage crates we'd filled up and shoved into the back of the rental. They'd contained everything from his books to his DVD collection to the number of tacky novelty mugs he'd accrued over ten years of birthdays, Valentine's days, and Christmases. Tyler's entire world fit into the storage unit of a truck - something about that just couldn't help but make me feel sad.

"You want a coffee?" I asked him, "I was thinking of getting one for myself."

"Yeah, sure." He said, as he lugged the crate out the front door and towards the truck.

I retreated to the kitchen and turned on the coffee machine, not entirely sure how I was feeling. Adapting to the rhythm of life without Tyler would take time, but there were little moments here and there that galvanised the fact that, yes, he really was going to be gone. The empty space in my bed at night, the times I'd open my mouth to say something and realise nobody was there to hear me, and, just then, the realisation that Tyler would have to use one of my mugs for his coffee.

When Tyler came back inside I gave him his coffee, and he took a long swig.

"This moving stuff is thirsty work," he said, "I think we're pretty much over the hump now, though."

"Probably a good thing," I said with a lump in my throat, "we're running out of crates."

He gave me a soft pity laugh, thanked me for the coffee, and got back to work. In our ten years as a married couple, and our three-or-so years dating before that, we'd been through plenty of places as our demands and situations changed - the latest stopgap being New York, after Santa Monica, Miami, and Seattle. We'd bounced across the country like a pinball, so being able to move quickly and efficiently was almost like second nature to us now.

While I was washing up the mugs, Tyler was just performing a final sweep of the home, going room to room to see if there were any stragglers left to collect. Neither of us wanted the shame of having to come back to collect something one of us missed; ripping off the bandaid quickly and decisively was the best way to do this.

Tyler was half way through his second search of the bedroom when he called to me.

"Helena!" He said, "can you step into the bedroom for a sec? There's something a little strange in here, I think you should see."

I had no idea what to expect. It was with a sense of mounting nerves that I followed his voice into the bedroom to see what exactly had suddenly made him so animated.

The bedroom, at first glance, was the same as it'd always been. King-sized bed, a wardrobe, a few cabinets lined with photos and tasteful knickknacks. Tyler stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at the rug.

"What's up?" I asked, "It doesn't look so strange to me, Tyler."

"That's what I thought, initially. But when I happened to trip over the rug," Tyler replied, "I saw this."

With an uncharacteristically dramatic flair, Tyler tucked his toes under the edge of the rug and peeled it back. Underneath, as plain as day, was a closed and bolted trap door fixed into the ground.

"You ever seen this before?" He asked, his tone now dead serious, "Look, I know I can be inattentive, but if this has been here, then I sure as hell wouldn't have missed it."

There were no words I could summon. A trap door, almost the exact same size as the rug covering it up, but undeniably there. Made from the same material as the hardwood flooring that we'd had installed when we moved here.

"I didn't think any of the houses around here had basements." I said.

Tyler shook his head, his eyes never once leaving the trapdoor. He was transfixed, like a snake charmer watching the swaying cobra rising out of the wicker basket in front of him. His focus an acknowledgment of danger.

"They don't," he said, matter-of-factly, "ground's not right for it, they can't be built around here. Not as far as I know, at least."

We both stood in complete silence, staring at a trap door that had no natural business being there. It seemed to give off a quiet hum, the kind you could only really parse from the general background noise of the world if you were consciously listening for it. Something about the trapdoor was wrong, so terribly wrong.

"Do you think we should call someone?" I asked.

"Who would we call? Police, the fire station?" He said, "and what do we tell them? Help, please, there's been a minor renovation in our home and it's freaking us out. We'd probably get fined for wasting police time."

The worst part was that he was completely right. There were no reinforcements, no backup, nobody we could get to lend us a hand on this. But it was easy to tell from his eyes that we were both hungry for some resolution on the damn thing, or it'd haunt us to the day we stumbled off the mortal coil.

"I think we should open it up and take a look inside." Tyler said.

"Hell no!" I said, emphatic, surprised by my own passion on the matter, "whatever's down there - if anything at all is down there - is bad news, Tyler."

Tyler just shook his head at me.

"For god's sake, Helena, you're a grown woman - it's not like someone could live down there," he said, "all the years we've lived here, we've never known about this thing. If I'm never coming back here, I think I'm owed at least one look in there, aren't I? Just a little peak, for curiosity's sake, then we can even nail it shut, if you like."

This was why having arguments with Tyler was impossible: he always knew how to put himself in a position of sympathy, framing himself as the victim and me as the bad guy, stomping on all his innocent fun. I knew in my heart of hearts that if we opened that trap door we'd regret it, but I didn't feel I was in any position to deny Tyler a final request.

"Alright," I said, "you can open it up, but then I'm getting a carpenter to come over and seal it for good. Deal?"

Tyler nodded, and unbolted the door. He didn't look curious, he didn't look excited. He just looked weary.

He practically peeled it from its place on the ground with a long, squealing creak of ancient hinges, until we were left staring into its yawning mouth. A gust of strange-smelling air came billowing out - the smell of stale dust, of old paint chipping. It wasn't, as I'd expected, pitch black down there. There was a soft, murky-yellow light that gave everything below the trapdoor a kind of vague shape, like shadow puppets.

"What the hell?" Tyler said, his voice soft and subdued.

"That's it," I said, "we're closing the trapdoor, and forgetting we ever found it. I'm going to reposition the bed and sit a goddamn wardrobe on top of it."

Tyler looked up at me, bewildered.

"Are you crazy?" He said, "we've found a genuine, bona fide mystery here, and you just want to shut it away before we even know what it is?"

"If that makes me crazy, then please, let's get my straight jacket fitted."

He just scoffed and shook his head at me; acting like a goddamn child.

"I'm not gonna let you close this off, Helena, not until we know. This is gonna nag at us for the rest of our lives if we don't look into it."

There was nothing in the world that I wanted less than to crawl down into that trapdoor with my ex-husband, but I knew Tyler better than anyone: once he got his mind set on something, he dug in his heels and never moved for anything. If I wanted this ordeal to be over as quickly and painlessly as possible, I'd need to indulge him. Let him have his fun.

"We need a weapon, if we're going down there." I said.

"Oh, come on, Helena..."

"No, I'm serious. Light means life, and if we're crawling into the belly of the beast here, I don't intend to do it unarmed."

Tyler thought for a moment.

"There's a baseball bat in the van, you want me to go get it?"

"And leave me here next to the trapdoor?" I asked, "no, screw that. I'll go get it. You wait here, okay? No funny business. I don't want to mess around with crap like this."

So that's what I did, walk out of the room, with Tyler's gaze boring into the back of my head. I gritted my teeth, ignored him as best I could, but the idea of him followed me out to the rental truck, taunting me. This was so like him, this last act of defiance. Retaining some modicum of control over me even now, when we were meant to be tying all this off.

I slid open the shutter and grabbed the bat by its business end, and headed back inside, muttering under my breath about what a terrible idea all of this was.

When I entered the bedroom and saw Tyler wasn't there, my heart all but stopped. The trapdoor sat there, gaping, just as I'd left it. What seemed like a yawn earlier now felt much more like a mouth in the grip of silent, mocking laughter.

"Helena," he called up from the pit, unseen, "you have got to see this. Right now."

His tone of holier-than-thou superiority had gone. His voice was empty, flat.

Getting my body through that trapdoor was like trying to get oil and water to mix at first. Tyler had remained silent for long enough to start worrying me, and I was the only one with any means to defend myself. I may have been afraid - no, terrified - but I knew I couldn't just leave him down there, a sitting duck.

Eventually, I bit my tongue, forced my eyes shut, and jumped feet-first into the dark.

When I opened my eyes, I was in a hallway - dark, and yet vaguely familiar - with a wooden ladder that trailed down from the mouth of the trapdoor behind me. At the end of the hall, the light was a little brighter, so I knew without a doubt that Tyler must have been down there.

The second I walked into the light at the end of the hallway, I saw two things. The first was Tyler, standing awestruck, and the second was what he was looking at. We both stood silently, just staring at it.

It was the sitting room of our home in Seattle, which should have been almost three thousand miles away, but there it was. The same couches, the same TV, same wall-art. It was as though the two locations had just somehow bled together, with the trapdoor acting as the nexus between them. Neither of us knew what to say.

"This is insane." Was Tyler's first attempt at commentary on the matter. And by god, was he right.

I walked over to one of the couches, running my hand across the cracked leather, just wanting to know if it was all real. Flesh touched tanned cow-skin, as real as you or me, and the sudden, awful realisation set in that this was all too real. Had someone created a perfect facsimile of the old house under the new one?

Without another word, I walked out of the living room and into another hallway. There were stairs, a doorway to the kitchen and to the downstairs bathroom, and to the dining room. It was all there, exactly as it had been back in the house in Seattle. Even down to the hideous brick-effect wallpaper we were both so sure looked stylish and hip at the time. The recreation seemed utterly flawless.

"This can't be happening," I said, not even believing the words myself, "this is madness. It's impossible."

It seemed almost like a cruel joke, something you'd see on a trashy hidden-camera TV show. But there was no grinning host emerging to congratulate us for being such good sports, no crew, no liability waivers to sign before the whole ridiculous mess could legally hit the airwaves. This was reality, and it hit us like a train.

"Do you think it was some kind of teleportation device?" Tyler asked. It was a notion you'd immediately laugh off in any other situation - but seeing what we'd seen, anything was possible.

"Couldn't be," I said, "we sold this house on, it was gonna be demolished along with the rest of the neighbourhood to make a mall."

"A time machine, then? Some kind of alternate reality or something?"

I held my temples and groaned, which was the only response that seemed sensible. Ask an insane question, get an insane answer. Insane was the only word that made sense here.

"So," I said, "either you're right, and we're in some kind of pocket dimension, outside of our reality. Or, someone has been living under our house, for at least as long as we've been here, meticulously building an exact replica of our house back in Seattle. And you know what, Tyler? I'm not sure which is scarier."

Tyler squinted, as he was wont to do when concentrating, and walked over to the wall.

"I can think of a way to tell." He said.

He gripped at the ragged edges of that gaudy wallpaper and started tearing it off in great swathes. After a moment or two of confusion, I ran over and joined him, grabbing handfuls of the stuff and ripping it away.

Soon, the wall was clear. Well, not exactly clear, and that was the problem. A great, rotting stain of obsidian blacks and septic greens, festering against the wood, as large as either of us.

"Goddamnit," Tyler said, his voice no louder than a whisper, "God fucking damn it."

The black mold. We'd been happy in Seattle, our jobs were going well, our house was gorgeous, we were content with one another. But the real estate agent had broken the law. She never told us why we were getting the house so cheap, why the previous owners were so eager to get rid of the blasted place. It'd been infested, from rafters to carpet, with damp, stinking rashes of black mold.

"It's conceivable," Tyler said, "But only just, that a person or a group of people could recreate the house. They could find all the furniture, use pictures we took as frames of reference. Maybe, with enough time and money and insanity, someone could do that. But nobody is batshit crazy enough to somehow culture and shape the mold until it looked exactly how we remembered it. That's impossible."

Tyler was right. Nobody could do this, no normal, flesh-and-blood human.

"So, you think this is supernatural?" I asked, my voice trembling, "is that what you're saying?"

He shrugged.

"I don't have a goddamn clue what any of this is. But I intend to find out."

When we'd fully absorbed the madness of what'd happened, we decided to explore a little further, just to make entirely sure that we weren't just inflating the similarities. But no, room for room, this house was identical to the one we left in Seattle, not so much as a coaster out of place. I found my way into the bedroom while Tyler was rifling through the kitchen cabinets, and came upon another nasty little surprise.

"Tyler!" I yelled, shriller and more panicked than I'd have liked, "get in here right now!"

Another wooden trap door sat at the foot of the bed.

Tyler was carrying the baseball bat now, but when he saw what I'd seen he almost dropped it. How much deeper did this place go? How many trapdoors were there? And, most importantly, who the hell had put them all there?

"Open it up, Helena," Tyler said, "we've come this far, why stop?"

"Have you gone crazy?"

There was a pronounced fear in Tyler's eyes. His hands shook, his legs bobbed, like they were about to buckle.

"I can't leave without knowing, Helena. I just can't. Not now, not anymore."

There was no use in refusing him, not if I wanted a clean break. I unbolted the trapdoor and jimmied it open with my fingers - the hinges rusted and cracked, like the door would just snap off if pressure was applied in the wrong places.

Same gust of stale air, of mephitic wind. We were crawling deeper and deeper into the earth.

Tyler dropped down first, being the one with the weapon, and I followed a few seconds after. Another hallway, bathed in total darkness, leaving us to fumble across the wall for a light switch.

The whole situation just seemed uncomfortably familiar.

It was hotter here, more humid, the sudden change in climate feeling almost as jarring as the discovery of the trap doors. Walking further down that hallway was reminiscent of opening an oven door to check how a meal was cooking, and being hit by a sudden wall of hot air, like a punch to the jaw.

"Found it," Tyler said, "let there be light."

Click.

And there was light. We were greeted by the clean white walls and baby-blue shag carpeting of our Miami apartment. We'd lived in a duplex in Little Havana, where I'd wanted to start a family after the Santa Monica incident uprooted us - we'd even started decorating a room for the baby, complete with mobiles and a crib. A new start, a fresh start. What a joke that felt then, looking back at the ghost of the old place from the lens of the trapdoors. I was so wrapped up in the past I almost forgot the fact we'd somehow just stepped back into it.

"You know," Tyler said, "I was really hoping this one would give us some answers, not more goddamn questions."

The weirdness was still a little lost on me, somehow. We were part of a snapshot of a place that might not even exist anymore. An illusion, a lie. And yet, I could touch the leaves of a potted plant we kept in the living room and feel cold plant-matter touch my skin. Same furniture, same dusty ornaments, same art hanging on the walls. Were it not for the sudden and unsettling stab of memory, I'd have gotten lost in it.

"Why did we move from here?" I asked, more to myself than anyone.

Which is when my brain reminded me.

I trudged slowly, robotically, over to the front door, and my questions were answered. Bloody handprints dried and caked into the carpeting, with wide, all-consuming brown drag-stains where great puddles of claret had rotted in our doorway. Just like it'd been the next day, all those years ago.

On a hot, sticky night in June we'd been awoken by a hammering on the front door. Tyler and I had run down to open it, when a girl of about seventeen, barely alive, collapsed across the threshold. She'd been stabbed - no, the poor girl had been practically gutted, a gaping, yonic wound having been carved into her belly. She was wheezing, gagging out cupfuls of blood and crying. Her boyfriend had gotten hopped up on amphetamines, accused her of cheating, before trying to remove her uterus with a hunting knife.

We called the ambulance and tried to stem the bleeding, but the poor girl didn't make it. I knew I'd never forget that face, those pleading eyes, a child's eyes. Communicating so much fear and pain and betrayal, and then just nothing at all. Glassy, lifeless doll eyes.

That scuppered any plans we might have had for making a family there. The place was marked, tainted. How could we ever expect to build a good life in a place that'd been marred by such a violent, pointless death? It was then that we moved to the Seattle house, and left all this behind.

We were getting real good at resetting our whole life at a moment's notice.

"We need to get out, Tyler." I said, "nothing good is going to come of this. You know it, I know it. We go any further and I think we're both going to regret it."

Tyler put a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Helena," he said, "just one more level, if there is even one more level. I swear on my immortal soul that if there's nothing there, we'll leave immediately, not a moment's hesitation."

"But..."

"Please, Helena, just let me have this. I think we're gonna regret leaving this unanswered more than we'd ever regret anything that answer could be. Just one more floor, just one more. That's all."

Little by little, I was beginning to remember the things I'd always resented about Tyler. This stupid, childish "my way or the highway" attitude was one of them. He'd always been like this, so infuriatingly goddamn stubborn. Why couldn't he just listen to me and think for once, rather than charging into a situation unprepared?

We went to the bedroom, and there was another trapdoor. I let him prize this one open, having washed my hands of the whole mad business. If Tyler wanted to drudge up more sewage from the past, he was welcome to, but he'd have to be the one taking the lead. I was through sticking my neck out for that man, while he just sat there, sharpening his axe.

"Come on down." Tyler shouted from the darkness.

I held my breath and jumped down after him, landing in another hallway that lead to god-knows-where. Tyler had forged ahead into the open space in the distance. It was, as anyone could have guessed, the Santa Monica house. Our honeymoon house. The house where Tyler carried me over the threshold.

"I'm gonna look around," he said, "see if I can find any clues."

"Whatever." I said, resigned to the situation.

There was no more adventure left in me. This place had gone from a confusing, mysterious novelty to a tiresome reminder of what was and what could've been had things worked out a little better. Tyler could explore all he wanted, but I was done. This stupid place held no sway over me now.

Why had we left this one, I'd wondered? No biological disasters, no murdered teenagers. It'd all started off so well - no hiccups, no stumbling out of the gate. Well, not at the very beginning. There's always a honeymoon period. An unspoken, mutual agreement to pretend one another's flaws don't exist, allowing them to get more and more pronounced over time until you can't ignore them anymore.

I'd wanted kids, I'd always wanted kids. Tyler knew this. I'd asked, and asked, and asked "when are we gonna start a family?" And he always rebuffed me. Typical Tyler, don't do today what you can put off until tomorrow. Eventually, my frustration turned to anger, and my anger turned to resentment.

"Why don't you want to commit to something for once in your life, you son of a bitch?" I barked at him once after perhaps one too many glasses of the red stuff.

"We're young," he said, a little buzzed himself, "do we really want to tie ourselves down just yet?"

"Is that what all this is to you, a fucking burden?" I asked, fuelled by rage.

"Maybe it is," he said, suddenly quiet and sickeningly sincere, "maybe it is."

The next day, he bought me an expensive pearl necklace as a peace offering, but it wasn't the same. The house had been tainted, not by murder, not by some act of God or a lying real estate agent, but by us. Looking back, that was the genesis of what had spiralled into the mess we were dealing with now.

I read somewhere once about how oysters make pearls from a tiny grain of sand. You see, the sand gets in there somehow, and it hurts - it's agonising for the oyster, feeling that grain of sand there, digging against all its tender places. So it wraps it in layers upon layers of calcium carbonate until it's turned the source of its pain into a pretty little keepsake. We'd been doing the same thing for years, wrapping our pain in layers of denial and pleasantry, until our hearts were chock full of these little pearls of hate we didn't even know were there. But everything had a breaking point, and the pearls were starting to spill out now, for all to see.

Sitting there, at the foot of the stairs in the Santa Monica house, I put my face in my hands and cried softly. How long had I been lying to myself? It wasn't an amicable separation - we'd grown to despise each other, we were both just too ashamed of the mistake we'd made to admit it. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could we have been so wrong?

When I was done wallowing in self-pity, I swallowed my pain again and looked up. Tyler was standing in the living room in front of me, his back turned. I couldn't help but wonder how much he'd seen.

"Looks like we're done here." I heard him say.

But his voice wasn't coming from the living room.

I turned to see Tyler emerging from the kitchen, his face bunched-up in childish disappointment. I whipped back around to the living room, only to see it sitting as empty and dead as we'd left it.

Something in the pit of my stomach knotted - those all-too-familiar feelings of dread and ambiguous danger.

"Were you in the living room?" I asked, instantly betraying the fear in my voice.

"What?" He said, "yeah, I've been in all the rooms."

"But just a second ago?"

"No, maybe like five minutes ago, I just came out of the bedroom. No trapdoor this time, I think we've reached the bottom."

Tyler was right: we'd hit the bottom. And whatever the hell was in the living room wasn't Tyler.

"We need to get out of here," I said, "right now. Right goddam now, Tyler!"

He seemed confused, but there would be time for explanations later. I was right all along: we weren't alone in this place, not by a long shot.

"Head back to the trapdoor," I said, "no time to explain, just get moving."

Stubborn and childish as he could be, Tyler was no idiot. When he sensed the sheer spike of panic in my voice, we sped off to the hallway, our only way out of this level. We ran, our footsteps thundering so hard we barely heard the third set of footsteps slowly advancing behind us. Those movements were steady, methodical. Controlled.

"There's something behind us." Tyler said, breathing fast.

"I know, but don't stop. Just keep moving. We have to get out of here."

Soon enough, we reached the hallway. Our escape route. The ladder out through the trapdoor into the second floor was in sight, when we heard a voice that belonged to neither Tyler nor I. It was, unmistakably, the voice of a child - the child we never had.

"Mommy...daddy..." It said.

It was stupid of me, but I craned my head over my shoulder to steal what I intended to be just a quick glance. That's not the way it played out, though. As soon as I saw what was speaking, I found myself locked in a trance, mesmerised.

The thing wasn't Tyler, not really. It was an approximation of Tyler - speaking in a child's voice, perhaps only to taunt us. Its colours were too garish - almost clownishly so, to the point that it hurt your eyes just to gaze at it for too long - and they seemed almost to bleed into each other with no rhyme or reason. Its flesh seemed mottled, bloated, and doughy, as though made from wet clay or mud. The whole thing shone with prominent grease.

"Stay a little longer," it said, trudging down towards us, "I want to play with you."

Tyler ran at his perverse double with the bat, swinging hard. It collided with the creature's face with a wet, doughy 'thuck', and became jammed in place. Tyler tugged and tugged, but the bat wouldn't budge.

"What the hell is this thing?" He yelled in panic.

It reached out and wrapped five meaty fingers around the handle of the bat. With what only seemed like a gentle squeeze, the wood exploded into a thousand diminutive toothpicks. The other end of the bat just seemed to sink into the creature's head, disappearing entirely.

Fearing he would probably do the same if he came in contact with the monster, Tyler retreated, running back to the ladder at speeds I wouldn't have thought he'd be capable of. We both climbed for our lives as the squishy, wet footsteps of the creature came hammering after us.

When we ascended through the open trap door above us, it wasn't into the Miami house as we remembered it. Those sandblasted white walls were covered in stinking blood - some dried, some still dripping. The whole place was choked with the noxious stench of death, made so much worse by the Miami heat and humidity.

"Jesus Christ," I said aloud, as we both felt our feet squelching into the bloody shag carpeting, "what the hell's happened here?"

The Tyler-Thing was hot on our heels, so we didn't have any time to stop and contemplate our situation. If we'd had a little longer we could have tried to barricade the trap door, but after seeing what it did to the bat with such little effort, we didn't want to take any chances on it. We just had to run for our lives to the next trapdoor.

"We're so close," Tyler said, "keep moving, Helena, just a little further."

We ran across the blood-drenched carpet while the Tyler-Thing crawled up the ladder behind us. I was about a foot away from the hallway to the next ladder when something broadsided me, knocking me off my feet and into the mess below.

"Why didn't you save me?" The new figure screamed in a shrill, female voice.

It was the girl who'd died in the Miami house - now terribly rotten, her wretched face twisted in blind, vengeful fury. Innards hung like garlands from the wide slit in her belly, scowling sideways at me. My lips parted in an ear-splitting screech.

"Why didn't you fucking save me, Helena?"

The Tyler-Thing was cresting over the edge of the Santa Monica trapdoor, its disgusting, puffy face seeming almost to pulsate with excitement at the prospect of whatever it was planning to do with us. The murdered girl payed no mind to it, and lunged forward, bloody hands extended to claw my face off of my skull.

Out of sheer reflex, I slammed the soles of both feet into her chest and knocked her backwards. Just as the Tyler-Thing had fully surfaced and began lumbering towards me, I managed to regain my footing and make another mad dash while it and the murdered girl collected themselves behind me.

Tyler was half way up the ladder to Seattle. I began climbing the rungs after him, as the murdered girl and the Tyler-Thing bulged into the corridor after us. I could hear their sharp, vicious breaths rattling in my ears.

"Go faster!" I yelled.

He disappeared up through the trapdoor, with me right behind. By the time I was back in Seattle, the creatures were already on the ladder - but the Seattle we entered wasn't one we recognised. Not anymore.

The mold had spread like an all-consuming virus. Every inch of the building was now a slimy dark-green, pulsing, breathing. The whole damn thing was infested - in what couldn't have been more than an hour. The structural integrity of this world was crumbling, it'd gone from perfect snapshot of the past to perverse fever dream. And the two creatures on our tail remained tireless in their pursuit.

"Play with me!" Yelled the dough-faced Tyler-Thing.

"Why didn't you save me?" Screamed the desecrated dead girl, in chorus.

Mold squelched underfoot. The ground seemed to sink under the pressure of our steps, more like marshland than concrete. Strange fungal vines swung lazily from the rafters, like stinking birthday party streamers, welcoming us back to the home we'd once abandoned.

The creatures were on our level now, working together. Joint manifestations of fear and resentment - two glowing pearls of hate. They strode through the mold, like it was nothing more than air, four hands stretched out after us. Grasping, groping. Caked blood under fingernails and garish playdough digits.

"Come on," Tyler, the real Tyler, gasped out, "just a little further."

Adrenaline had gotten me this far, but muscle ache was beginning to set in. I managed to stay ahead, if only just, knowing that this pain would be nothing compared to what those things would do to me. Still, I felt the need to tread lightly, as every other footstep seemed to sink further into the ground than I'd have thought possible. The whole place ran on nightmare logic: no matter how much effort you put in, it felt like running underwater.

"Didn't you want me, mommy?" The Tyler-Thing said, in its child's voice, "why do you always give up on me?"

Mere footsteps away from the ladder, I turned to see the Tyler-Thing mid-lunge. It sailed through the air in a way that normal physics would deem impossible, but none of that mattered here. I felt the breeze of its big, chunky fingers grasping close to my face and fell backwards against the ladder, as the thing tumbled to the ground. There was a wet crunch as the mouldy flooring gave way under the creature's weight, and collapsed. It started a chain reaction, the floor falling away, piece by piece, like a jigsaw puzzle, into seemingly limitless darkness below. The murdered girl and the Tyler-Thing fell, screaming and yelling in impotent protest, to the vast, unknowable oblivion.

I gripped onto the ladder for dear life, knowing that if I let go for even a second I'd be joining them. Tyler climbed up through the trapdoor above us, and when I'd gained the few snatches of strength I'd need to follow him, I did. With heaving gasps and strained muscles, I ascended through the trapdoor, back into the world I'd always known. The final ladder crumbled into dust and drifted off beneath my feet.

We sat there for a few minutes, just breathing heavily and saying nothing, and occasionally passing glances at one another and into the abyss beyond the trapdoor. There'd be no certain answers now, not beyond what we could piece together through guesswork. What was that place, and who built it? For the first question, I haven't the vaguest idea. The second? Tyler and I, on some level, both knew that.

When we were ready to start moving again, we closed the trapdoor, bolted it, and covered it with the rug once again. Nothing else would be coming out of it now.

***

This happened around ten years ago, and a lot has changed since then. After the events of that fateful night, I helped Tyler finish moving out, and begin settling in his new place. The next morning, when I checked underneath the rug, the trapdoor wasn't there - just as I was sure it hadn't been there every night before. That brief and frightening chapter of our lives had ended, and we were ready to move on.

We were happy, after it ended. Tyler and I were both hitched to other people a few years later, but we kept in contact, never telling another soul about the incident with the Trapdoors. We knew nobody would believe us, but that didn't matter. It was our time, our moment. Nobody else ever needed to know or understand.

Sometimes, I'd look at my kids, and I'd be thankful that their voices didn't remind me of the perverse whisperings of the Tyler-Thing. That was what crossed my mind most often when I thought of that day: the garish, pantomime face of the Tyler-Thing. When I allowed my mind to wander, it would often wander around with it, more like an old friend than an old enemy.

I visited Tyler a few weeks ago, a question burning on my mind. We exchanged pleasantries, caught up, I asked after his wife and he asked after my husband and children. We laughed and chatted like no time at all had passed, and it finally felt appropriate to ask him what'd been on my mind.

"Tyler," I said, "that night, all those years ago. Below the trapdoor."

"Yeah?" He said.

"We never discussed it all that much, did we?"

"Well," Tyler said, with a small, humourless laugh, "what is there left to discuss, Helena? I felt it pretty much spoke for itself."

"I just wanted to ask you one thing."

"What is it?"

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

"That thing...you know, the one that spoke in that voice, that terrible voice," I said, "what did it look like to you?"

We both sat in pregnant silence for a few seconds. His eyes searched the room, trying to find everything but my gaze. Eventually, he gulped down his trepidation, and began to speak.

"Truth be told, Helena," he said, "it looked like you."

I smiled and sat back in my chair, letting the fabric embrace me, lost in thought. Had my experiences with the Tyler-Thing changed how I looked at life and at love? Of course it had, how couldn't it? There are monsters hiding in the places our decisions make, and they're as much a part of us as anything else. How silly it'd be to deny that, in a world of seven or eight billion people, there wouldn't be a few questions unasked, and a few trapdoors left unopened.

[artificialqueens]

„And she’s a whore“ (Vatya) - Polly

Authors note: I was inspired by my own wish and all the requests for Vatya birthday sex. You can also see this as what happened previously to Violets ‚walk of shame‘ Insta story. Also the request for Violet leaving the stage after singing Happy Birthday to Katya inspired this whole thing. Not sure if anyone had something like this in mind but I had to get it off my chest, also this is kinda of short (sorry but I just wanted to write something)And I also had to mention the fact that Violet thought she was the top when they were dry humping on that damn couch because Katya’s reaction was priceless. Feedback is always welcome. I’m using Katya/Violet and she/her even when they’re not in drag.

Violet was wiggling her ass, making sure that her tassels were swinging wildly. She was vaguely aware of Katya standing at the side but didn’t know if she was watching. Violet however was putting on quite a show, wanting to make sure that Katya was watching, already having decided that tonight was the night she was going to fuck her again. They hadn’t hooked up in months, in fact haven’t even seen each other since December so she was kind of desperate. Violet had been exited to see Katya, they were friends after all but she hadn’t initially planned to have sex with her but then Katya had started to not so subtly hint towards sex. And Violet didn’t even want think about the fact that she secretly really really enjoyed their dry humping session on her booth’s couch. Only a few hours had passed since then and so did Katya’s flirting, Violet noticed with frustration.

When Jinkx was coming up to the stage to sing ‚Happy Birthday‘ to Katya, Violet decided to join her trying to sound as seductive as possible. The blonde though could not have cared less. However Violet couldn’t help herself but to smile anyway while looking at Katya who was happily stuffing cake into her mouth. But Violet felt her smile drop when Jinkx ended the song with exclaming that Katya was a whore. Which was true. Violet was reminded that Katya and her weren’t together, they in fact hadn’t even talked about ever hooking up again since this very much had the potential to blow up into their faces. Though to be fair, its not like there had ever been plans to hook up in the first place. It was just that their sexual chemistry was absolutely undeniable and one night they both had decided to give in on it and to not care about potential consequences. And they had not been wrong, the sex had been absolutely incredible which also explained while it happened again, and a couple times more after that. So Violet had been stupid enough to get her hopes up that sex with Katya was also in the cards for today but Katya was Katya, and Katya had people throwing themselves at her left and right. And while Violet knew that the same thing could be said about her, tonight she wanted Katya, only Katya. She was however unsure if the blonde felt the same about her, so she tried gathering her thoughts and left the stage, hoping that not too many of her emotions had been visible on her face.

When she got backstage and looked at the others laughing and having fun she suddenly felt strangely out of place. Even before Katya and Jinkx returned from stage, she had already thrown on some clothes over her costume and told Courtney to tell the others that she was too tired to stay. Violet knew that it was an asshole move to leave without even saying goodbye to Jinkx and especially Katya but she just couldn’t bring herself to stay longer.

Some time later Violet was laying in her bed freshly showered and horny as ever. She was deliberating wether or not to go on Grindr or to just jerk herself off when her phone started ringing. She saw Katya’s name on her screen and answered hesitantly.

„Hey.“ Katya’s voice sounded from the other end.

„Hey.“ Violet answered „Shouldn’t you do other things than to call me at 1am on your birthday?“

„Maybe, where are you know?“ Katya asked in a strange tone.

„At my hotel. Why?“ Violet answered confused.

„Come to my place, now.“ Katya demanded before hanging up. Violets heart was pounding. What was that supposed to mean? Katya’s voice had sounded urgent and while Violet could pretend to think about wether or not she should go over to Katya’s place, she knew that she had already made her decision. There was no possible way to read a 1am phone call like this as anything but a booty call and Violet didn’t mind at all. So she called for an Uber, packed her hotel keys, phone charger and her toothbrush and left her room.

The way to Katya’s apartment wasn’t a long one so not much time passed until Katya, now make up free and in her boy clothes, was opening her door for Violet.

„Look at you, giving me a booty call at 1am.“ Violet greeted her.

„Well, its not like I could’ve invited you personally. You didn’t even say goodbye bitch!“ Katya explained sounding genuinely offended.

„Yeah, I know. You just seemed to be preoccupied with eating cake.“ Violet said while shrugging her shoulders.

„Whatever“ Katya decided to let it go. „I liked you ass tassels.“ she continued with a smirk while scooting closer to Violet.

„You did? You didn’t seem to pay much attention to them.“ Violet contoured with a sly smile and raised eyebrows.

„Oh trust me! I did pay attention. I payed attention to your ass all day.“ Katya explained while mirroring Violet’s smile.

„Did you now?“ Violet grinned while following Katya towards the bedroom, not wasting time.

„Well to be fair, when we were dry humping earlier“ Katya said while looking back at Violet with a mischievous smile on her face „I was hoping that we could do that again but without clothes.“

„Fine by me.“ Violet said while taking her shirt of. „I’ll even let you be the top this time.“ she laughed with a wink.

„Bitch,“ Katya joined in laughing „You’ve never been the top in the first place.“ Violet just smiled at that and walked towards Katya to also take her shirt of before finally kissing her and all the joking tone vanished.

Violet felt Katya’s hands all over her body, almost aggressively pulling at her hair, she always loved feeling wanted and Katya definitely wanted her. And she desperately craved Katya. Both of their need was evident as their bodies were pressed onto each other. At some point they finally managed to land on Katya’s bed and took their remaining clothes off while still kissing each other with lust. Violet couldn’t tell where she began and Katya ended all she knew is this felt amazing and she never wanted to stop. Their hands and mouths were everywhere and Violet was once again astounded by how good sex with Katya felt. Their kisses had long before started to get messy while they were pressing into each other. The touches, the moans, the digging of Katya’s fingers into her body when she had finally started to fuck Violet made her body feel completely electrified. She was thrilled to find out that their sex was just as heated and longing even after they had already fucked time and time again. And while Violet had felt absolutely exhausted only hours before she now was sure that another night without sleep wouldn’t hurt, especially if it meant being fucked by Katya again and getting to feel like this for hours on end.

[dapperkobold]

Review at Random: Dawn of War 2

Dawn of War was a competent game desperately in need of a quality of life update. Dawn of War 2 is... different. The quality of life improved, but it’s still subject to some troublesome issues that make me frown. Also, bad replayability.

(I already did Dawn of War)

Graphics-wise, it’s fine. Move along. Sure, people who are picky about graphics will no doubt frown, butt they’re rather nice, effective, and not disruptive. Sound quality was similar.

Gameplay, however...

Let me open with a bald-faced admittance that I’m not a multiplayer player. I don’t do the PVP thing. It’s not an interest of mine. I play campaigns, I like plot and campaign missions. As a result, I have no idea how the multiplayer in this game works. The campaign is doing its own thing with its own rules.

The base campaign is really closer to a... let’s call it RTRPS: Real Time Role-Playing Strategy. You have your space marines, they level up, you equip gear that the enemies drop, you gain more stats and abilities as things go on. At the same time, the control scheme and setup means that you’re really playing an RTS game. The resulting hybrid system is... well, it’s not amazing, but I’d love to see it refined until it was. It works, certainly, it’s even good, but it could use some fine-tuning.

You level up, you invest points in stats, you get abilities. Usually I’m hard on stats in video games (especially MMOs, but that’s a line for another time), but this time they’re really straightforward. Health, energy, ranged damage, melee damage. Nice. You unlock abilities in the stats as you level them up, and those abilities are the real power behind your units.

In missions, you get equipment (called wargear as per the Warhammer tradition) and you slap those on your guys. There’s no money or stores, only what you pick up in the wild. Extra gear you can throw in the hopper for extra EXP. Not bad, I suppose, but I’ve become disenfranchised with gear systems in general and especially leveled ones. Oh yes, gear items have levels and if you’re not that level you don’t get to use that gear.

Thankfully, the gear in this game isn’t too bad. It’s mostly linear progression, but there’s occasionally the difficult choice. If this game did have a store, however, I’m pretty sure that would foul it all up, so I’m very glad it does not.

Story-wise, it’s not bad. Not amazing, but I’ll take it and be happy. The characters are fairly compelling, the voice acting is good enough, and the overall plot is really good except for the Eldar.

It’s no wonder that the Eldar are a dying people. How did they get a successful civilization in the first place with such terrible communication skills? And for being ‘master manipulators’ they... really are not. They can’t even manipulate Orks right. They aren’t smart, they don’t seem to have a solid tactical or strategic understanding, much less the social skills to really manipulate people, and they aren’t good at their jobs. 

B- to B+ story, but I’m leaning towards -.

Level design I’m going to be harsher on. You’re on every single map at least twice, and I think it’s sometimes three or more times. none of the levels are super memorable, and it’s sometimes downright frustrating. Bosses are fairly common, and they’re more a drag than anything else. I was never in serious danger in a boss fight, partially due to the boss’ bad AI.

That’s not too say that the game was too easy. No, the game as a whole wasn’t too easy, just most of it was. But then some parts of it are way too hard.

I wound up playing on easy mode because the entire game has a bad case of Jekyll and Hyde. You can breeze through most of a mission, and then 3 of 4 guys are dead and the last one has a giant tank bearing down on him. By the same nature, you fight smart and bypass most of one area, and then just breeze through the rest because you just bypassed the hard part of the mission.

That said, if I could turn up the difficulty mid-game, I would have before the end. Once you get into mid- and late- game, you can blow through most anything with no trouble. You can go look up build guides for your marines if you want, but let me tell you a little secret:

There’s no doubt that you’re going to wind up overpowered. The question is how overpowered you’re going to be.

I don’t know how it is on higher difficulties (I’ve heard some horror stories) but on lower difficulties you’ll likely be fine as long as you don’t specifically hamstring yourself. Once you get past that initial hump, do the extra missions, give all your extra gear away to charity... you’ll be fine. Trust me.

However, I’ve saved the best for last: The game still has some interface issues from the first Dawn of War. The Escape key still does nothing, the hotkeys are better but still a mess, and there’s no grid layout.

Pathfinding has improved, though, barring a few MASSIVE bugs. I think there’s something wrong with Avitus’ AI that doesn’t like rocket launchers, but at least there’s no need to call down an artillery strike on your own men.

Overall, I’m not going to play through it again any time soon, but it was fairly fun.

But wait! I didn’t just get Dawn of War 2, I got ALL of it. That means I got Chaos rising and Retribution, too!

Chaos rising is more of the same. Same quality of plot, same unneeded Eldar, same quality of gameplay, same quality of RPG elements, and a slightly improved difficulty curve. You can import old saves, too, permitting you to go from ‘overpowered’ to ‘hilariously overpowered’.

That said, I’d like to go into detail on that improved curve. It no longer has harsh changes mid-mission, it now changes between Jekyll and Hyde between missions. Also, free advice: the first Eldar mission is a Hyde mission. PUT THE JUMP PACK ON YOUR FORCE COMMANDER AND BRING THADDEUS. BE READY TO LEAVE THE GROUND-POUNDERS BEHIND.

Trust me.

Really, that’s my thoughts on it. If you liked the first Dawn of War 2 campaign, you’ll likely like Chaos Rising. If you didn’t like the first one, I don’t see this one changing your mind. It has the same system, the same hotkeys, the same characters, and Avitus still doesn’t like rocket launchers, just use a heavy plasma gun or a lascannon, trust me.

Dawn of War 2: Chaos Rising: second verse, same verse as the first verse.

Dawn of War 2: Retribution is quite different, though.

The RPG elements have been streamlined, the stat points now buy abilities directly and equipment has been made into more of a suite of options instead of a mostly-linear progression. I found myself actually considering my loadout and changing it instead of just rolling with the best everything, something that had only barely happened in the first two campaigns.

In addition, you can get more units, like vehicles and infantry, like it’s an RTS game! Woah! However, the level design still feels very much like it’s made for a group of four heroes instead of an army, and I found managing a large group of infantry to be tiresome, so I just wound up using elites and tanks and occasionally melee units when I felt I needed more melee presence. It worked, though.

The story stays at about the same rate, though, maybe lowering a bit. Not complaining much, it’s still not bad. Eldar are still superfluous.

The space marines campaign does lose a few points for me for benching the force commander, though. With the smaller cast and having already explored the character depth in the previous campaigns, lacking Mr. ALIEN BEANS for me to laugh at made me a little sad. Diomedes does have his moments, but that force commander and I had a good time together.

In addition, each map is surprisingly well-made, with a solid deign and no repeating. It went over well enough I wouldn’t be against re-playing it at some point. Which is a good thing, since that’s what I’ll be doing if I want to try other factions.

Yes, the other factions all have campaigns too! No, wait, it’s just the space marine one with less cohesiveness. Well... I’m not surprised, actually. Disappointed, yes, but not surprised. And while the campaign is good, it’s not so good as to make me want to play it again back-to-back.

There’s a few bugs that Retribution adds, much to everyone’s chagrin, including a sound bug that crashes the game and a few other things, but they added in a option for grid hotkeys! Yay!

It turns out that’s not as great as it could be. The order of abilities does not appear to be based on the kind of ability or the placing of the accessory in the slot, but some kind of internal counter. As a result, the hotkey that corresponds to a given ability (especially from accessories) can change every mission sometimes. It’s better than the old set up, but still aggravating.

Overall, Retribution is pretty good, yeah, but it could use more polish, except for the non-space marine campaigns, which are honestly pretty vestigial.

EDIT: I missed a few things! The below conclusion is still accurate, but maybe read the add-on.

So... after all that, I don’t know how to feel. It was a fun romp, but nothing to write home about. I might play it again, eventually, but not anytime soon, and certainly not as much as I play Starcraft 2 or the Arkham games. It’s not an amazing game. I won’t kick it, but I will say it’s not for everyone, and if you want to full experience, you should wait for a sale.

I’d say that on number scores I’d put it above half, on a tier ranking I’d call it a B maybe C, on up or down I’d give it a up, and on a grade sheet I’d give it a B-. Could use some work, but I’m not going to ask you to go back and do it again.

[ianrentfan-blog]

Does your tooth hurt?

She was too short to see over the fence. She borrowed the book from him many years ago and hasn't yet returned it. I want to buy a onesie… but know it won’t suit me. The waves were crashing on the shore; it was a lovely sight. She did her best to help him. Wednesday is hump day, but has anyone asked the camel if he’s happy about it? Sometimes, all you need to do is completely make an ass of yourself and laugh it off to realise that life isn’t so bad after all. Abstraction is often one floor above you. Italy is my favorite country; in fact, I plan to spend two weeks there next year. I will never be this young again. Ever. Oh damn… I just got older. We need to rent a room for our party. She only paints with bold colors; she does not like pastels. Rock music approaches at high velocity. If the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy had babies would they take your teeth and leave chocolate for you? A song can make or ruin a person’s day if they let it get to them. He turned in the research paper on Friday; otherwise, he would have not passed the class. I really want to go to work, but I am too sick to drive. The clock within this blog and the clock on my laptop are 1 hour different from each other. Yeah, I think it's a good environment for learning English. Don't step on the broken glass. Christmas is coming. If Purple People Eaters are real… where do they find purple people to eat? I am happy to take your donation; any amount will be greatly appreciated. She always speaks to him in a loud voice. Tom got a small piece of pie. I would have gotten the promotion, but my attendance wasn’t good enough. Two seats were vacant. I want more detailed information. Wow, does that work? She works two jobs to make ends meet; at least, that was her reason for not having time to join us. I checked to make sure that he was still alive. A purple pig and a green donkey flew a kite in the middle of the night and ended up sunburnt. The shooter says goodbye to his love. The lake is a long way from here. She did not cheat on the test, for it was not the right thing to do. The old apple revels in its authority. I currently have 4 windows open up… and I don’t know why. The sky is clear; the stars are twinkling. Cats are good pets, for they are clean and are not noisy. Lets all be unique together until we realise we are all the same. I'd rather be a bird than a fish. I often see the time 11:11 or 12:34 on clocks. Check back tomorrow; I will see if the book has arrived. The mysterious diary records the voice. Writing a list of random sentences is harder than I initially thought it would be. The body may perhaps compensates for the loss of a true metaphysics. I think I will buy the red car, or I will lease the blue one. The memory we used to share is no longer coherent. She folded her handkerchief neatly. Is it free? She advised him to come back at once. We have a lot of rain in June. Joe made the sugar cookies; Susan decorated them. This is a Japanese doll. Everyone was busy, so I went to the movie alone. I am never at home on Sundays. Last Friday in three week’s time I saw a spotted striped blue worm shake hands with a legless lizard. Sixty-Four comes asking for bread. I am counting my calories, yet I really want dessert. Let me help you with your baggage. Should we start class now, or should we wait for everyone to get here? My Mum tries to be cool by saying that she likes all the same things that I do. Hurry! This is the last random sentence I will be writing and I am going to stop mid-sent The river stole the gods. Please wait outside of the house. Malls are great places to shop; I can find everything I need under one roof. He ran out of money, so he had to stop playing poker. How was the math test? If you like tuna and tomato sauce- try combining the two. It’s really not as bad as it sounds. He told us a very exciting adventure story. It was getting dark, and we weren’t there yet. There was no ice cream in the freezer, nor did they have money to go to the store. They got there early, and they got really good seats. The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. Where do random thoughts come from? We have never been to Asia, nor have we visited Africa. I hear that Nancy is very pretty. The book is in front of the table. Mary plays the piano. If I don’t like something, I’ll stay away from it. I was very proud of my nickname throughout high school but today- I couldn’t be any different to what my nickname was. Someone I know recently combined Maple Syrup & buttered Popcorn thinking it would taste like caramel popcorn. It didn’t and they don’t recommend anyone else do it either. I love eating toasted cheese and tuna sandwiches. He didn’t want to go to the dentist, yet he went anyway. Sometimes it is better to just walk away from things and go back to them later when you’re in a better frame of mind. A glittering gem is not enough. He said he was not there yesterday; however, many people saw him there. She wrote him a long letter, but he didn't read it. There were white out conditions in the town; subsequently, the roads were impassable. What was the person thinking when they discovered cow’s milk was fine for human consumption… and why did they do it in the first place!? When I was little I had a car door slammed shut on my hand. I still remember it quite vividly. The stranger officiates the meal.

[gossipnetwork-blog]

James Toback's On-the-Record Denial of Allegations

New Post has been published on http://gossip.network/james-tobacks-on-the-record-denial-of-allegations/

James Toback's On-the-Record Denial of Allegations

In the wake of the Harvey Weinstein revelations, one of the first things I thought was: “Who’s next?” My wife Anna Scott, a public radio reporter for KCRW in Los Angeles, had an answer: James Toback.

She is one of what appears to be a very long list of women who have been accosted by the New York-based writer and director behind films like Black and White, Two Girls and a Guy and The Pick Up Artist. My wife’s own gruesome story dates back to about 18 years ago, when she was a senior in high school. Toback vaguely offered her a film role and then proceeded to talk to her about masturbation and pubic hair. Fortunately, she managed to extricate herself as the conversation moved to the prospect of heading to a hotel room somewhere, but she was still left feeling humiliated.

As a reporter for LA Weekly who’s covered sexual misconduct cases before, I began reaching out to a number of women who had tweeted about their own Toback experiences. I spoke with a total of nine of them, all of whom revealed similar stories of unwanted sexual advances from Toback, a mere fraction of the 38 who initially talked to reporter Glenn Whipp of the Los Angeles Times. Since the story first published, hundreds of others, including Selma Blair, Rachel McAdams and Julianne Moore, have reportedly come forward. Most of the stories I heard followed a similar plot.

Ambika Leigh says she met Toback in 2008, when she was a 30-year-old aspiring actress and waitress at the Polo Lounge in the Beverly Hills Hotel, and that he told her he was a director looking for an actress to collaborate with on his next film. According to Leigh, they would meet a number of times over the next two months, for lunch or dinner, and just talk. After dinner one night, she says, Toback invited her to a house where he was staying. She says Toback told her he wanted to do some “acting exercises” with her, in order to build trust and establish a bond that he said was important to his filmmaking process. She was reluctant at first, but finally agreed.

“He sat me on a chair and kneeled down in front of me,” she recalls. “Before I knew what was happening, he was humping my shin. Humping me like a dog. It was so shocking.” She says she found the act more pathetic than threatening. “I started laughing at him,” she says. “And then, quickly, he came in his pants. I could feel the warmth on my leg. He totally ejaculated.”

Sari Kamin, who recently recounted a similar story on Medium, told me that after intermittently dining with Toback over the course of six months, he invited her back to a hotel room. Kamin reluctantly agreed. “He kept saying how he was a non-traditional director,” Kamin says. “He had to connect to actresses on an emotional level. I was scared he meant sex, but I was too scared to ask. I convinced myself that he wasn’t going to hurt me. I felt like I had to do it, that I had to see it through.”

Once in the room, she says, “Pretty much the first thing he did was, he told me to get undressed. I didn’t want to. He said, ‘How can I work with you if you can’t do this now?’ So I did it. I hated myself for it. I didn’t want to do it. And I did.”

She says Toback began analyzing her body, commenting on how he would photograph her, what parts of her he would allow the camera to rest upon. Next, she says, he asked her to sit on a chair and began telling her about other actresses he’d slept with, how it was part of his process. After what seemed like hours of just talking, she says he walked over – still fully dressed – crouched down, and started rubbing his crotch against her leg. “I looked at him,” says Kamin, who then asked him, “‘Are you trying to get off?’ And he looked at me and said, ‘Absolutely.’ I just said, ‘No, I’m out.’ I grabbed my clothes and left.”

I reached out to Toback through his agent, Jeff Berg, who has since parted ways with the director. Toback called me back on Tuesday, October 17th, four days before the Times story was published. He asked me if I was recording the call. I wasn’t. He told me he was, and that he wouldn’t talk to me if I didn’t – I wouldn’t believe how many times he’d been misquoted, he said. I told him I’d figure something out, and he said he’d call back in a few hours. And so he did.

Here’s a transcript of the conversation:

Me: So… I’ve got some allegations made about you. I guess the most simple one is that you approach women on the street and offer them film roles, and talk about how you want to be involved with them, working in movies, and then the conversation quickly switches in some way to sex.

James Toback: Lemme be really clear about this. I don’t want to get a pat on the back, but I’ve struggled seriously to make movies with very little money, that I write, that I direct, that mean my life to me. The idea that I would offer a part to anyone for any other reason than that he or she was gonna be the best of anyone I could find is so disgusting to me. And anyone who says it is a lying cocksucker or cunt or both. Can I be any clearer than that?

Me: No, that’s pretty clear.

Toback: Anyone who says that, I just want to spit in his or her fucking face. I’m sitting here with Sienna Miller. By the way, no one who’s ever worked with me would ever say anything like that. No one. But I’ve just finished a movie with Sienna, which you should see, and help to get out there, called The Private Life of a Modern Woman. But here, she’s sitting right here, so just say hello to her.

[Off-the-record conversations take place, before the phone is passed back to Toback.]

Toback: No, seriously, I find it offensive and insulting and disgusting, that people… Because it’s the opposite of the way I work. I don’t give my best friends parts unless they deserve them. Ever.

Me: A couple women I talk to say that you were discussing roles with them for a couple months, and then you basically got them into a room, and you proceeded to hump their leg.

Toback: Give me one name.

Me: Alright, I’ll give you two names. One is Ambika Leigh. She met you when she was working at the Beverly Hills Hotel, and she went back with you to [a friend’s] house, where you were staying, and that you humped her leg like a dog.

Toback: OK, that is a total lie. I never heard of the person before. And then who was the other one? First of all, that description wouldn’t fit anyone, but I never heard that name before in my life. And believe me, I would remember it, because it’s a very unusual name.

Toback at a promotion event in Venice for his new film, ‘The Private Life Of A Modern Woman.’ Guillaume Collet/SIPA/REX

Me: Uh, yeah. The second woman is Sari Kamin. She said she met you at a Kinko’s, and that you guys met for about six months, and that you went to a hotel room. She’s also written about this on Medium, but she says she went with you to a hotel room, you asked her to take off her clothes, and you, uh, humped her leg.

Toback: You know, I mean, what happens… this is just too stupid. I mean, these are people I don’t know, and it’s things I never would have done. And it’s just not worth talking about. It’s idiotic. My question to you is, do you want to be a writer? Do you have any sense of yourself as a serious person? Because this stuff should be beneath anybody.

Me: Well, no, I don’t think that’s fair. You’ve got a number of women making these accusations. If it were one or two you could maybe dismiss it.

Toback: No, they hear each other. And they gang up. There was an article years and years ago with a bunch of anonymous people. People read things… it’s all, you know, me too, me too, me too, me too, me too. Anyway, it’s too stupid to waste time on. It really is. It doesn’t have anything to do with my life in any way. It never has. I work seriously with complete integrity. I never, never, never have offered a part to anyone who didn’t deserve it, and I’ve never not delivered when I do offer a part. My word is better than a contract.

Me: You’ve never just sort of met someone on the street, and started talking, ‘Oh, I’m a director, I’ll get you a film role, let’s hang out…’

Toback: No, I’ve never said ‘I’ll get you a film role’ to anybody ever.

Me: Anything to that effect?

Toback: Anything like that is nauseating and disgusting. And I would never say anything like ‘I’ll get you a film role.’ It’s too stupid to dignify. It’s pathetic lies. It’s just too fucking embarrassing and idiotic. And if I were you, I wouldn’t go repeating it, unless you really knew it were true, because it isn’t. So that’s all I have to say. This is not worth wasting another second on.

Me: Alright. Well thank you for you time.

Toback: OK.

Shortly after I hung up, Toback called back. This time, I didn’t record the call. He told me he thought my questions were “really rude,” and that I should talk to someone he’s actually worked with. “You can speak to a multitude of people I’ve worked with,” he said, “you will never hear anything but a good word. To ignore that, and to instead quote people whose names I don’t know, it’s not a good way to deal. It’s beneath good journalistic standards.”

So that’s about it. As a reporter, you get used to all kinds of denials. There’s the non-denial denial, the plain denial, the emphatic denial, the glib denial. The “I was only joking” denial, recently employed by former President George H.W. Bush. But calling your accusers “lying cocksuckers or cunts” is a denial I have never heard before (he even managed to plug his film while being accused of sexual assault). I probably could have said, “Hey, that’s my wife you’re talking about!” But, really, I was too stunned. 

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[ianrentfan-blog]

We need to rent a room for our party. He said he was not there yesterday; however, many people saw him there. The old apple revels in its authority. She works two jobs to make ends meet; at least, that was her reason for not having time to join us. The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. Writing a list of random sentences is harder than I initially thought it would be. Cats are good pets, for they are clean and are not noisy. He told us a very exciting adventure story. Joe made the sugar cookies; Susan decorated them. Christmas is coming. The clock within this blog and the clock on my laptop are 1 hour different from each other. This is the last random sentence I will be writing and I am going to stop mid-sent Everyone was busy, so I went to the movie alone. She did not cheat on the test, for it was not the right thing to do. She only paints with bold colors; she does not like pastels. There was no ice cream in the freezer, nor did they have money to go to the store. Malls are great places to shop; I can find everything I need under one roof. Last Friday in three week’s time I saw a spotted striped blue worm shake hands with a legless lizard. I love eating toasted cheese and tuna sandwiches. She always speaks to him in a loud voice. Please wait outside of the house. I think I will buy the red car, or I will lease the blue one. Don't step on the broken glass. Should we start class now, or should we wait for everyone to get here? He turned in the research paper on Friday; otherwise, he would have not passed the class. The memory we used to share is no longer coherent. She was too short to see over the fence. I hear that Nancy is very pretty. Tom got a small piece of pie. Abstraction is often one floor above you. A glittering gem is not enough. She folded her handkerchief neatly. I was very proud of my nickname throughout high school but today- I couldn’t be any different to what my nickname was. How was the math test? It was getting dark, and we weren’t there yet. Wow, does that work? The stranger officiates the meal. If Purple People Eaters are real… where do they find purple people to eat? The waves were crashing on the shore; it was a lovely sight. There were white out conditions in the town; subsequently, the roads were impassable. Yeah, I think it's a good environment for learning English. The sky is clear; the stars are twinkling. The body may perhaps compensates for the loss of a true metaphysics. Italy is my favorite country; in fact, I plan to spend two weeks there next year. I often see the time 11:11 or 12:34 on clocks. He didn’t want to go to the dentist, yet he went anyway. Sometimes it is better to just walk away from things and go back to them later when you’re in a better frame of mind. If you like tuna and tomato sauce- try combining the two. It’s really not as bad as it sounds. Someone I know recently combined Maple Syrup & buttered Popcorn thinking it would taste like caramel popcorn. It didn’t and they don’t recommend anyone else do it either. The shooter says goodbye to his love. The mysterious diary records the voice. I will never be this young again. Ever. Oh damn… I just got older. Sometimes, all you need to do is completely make an ass of yourself and laugh it off to realise that life isn’t so bad after all. My Mum tries to be cool by saying that she likes all the same things that I do. She advised him to come back at once. She borrowed the book from him many years ago and hasn't yet returned it. This is a Japanese doll. Wednesday is hump day, but has anyone asked the camel if he’s happy about it? Sixty-Four comes asking for bread. A purple pig and a green donkey flew a kite in the middle of the night and ended up sunburnt. Mary plays the piano. What was the person thinking when they discovered cow’s milk was fine for human consumption… and why did they do it in the first place!? Let me help you with your baggage. If the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy had babies would they take your teeth and leave chocolate for you? I am counting my calories, yet I really want dessert. Is it free? Where do random thoughts come from? We have never been to Asia, nor have we visited Africa. The lake is a long way from here. I checked to make sure that he was still alive. I want to buy a onesie… but know it won’t suit me. A song can make or ruin a person’s day if they let it get to them. She wrote him a long letter, but he didn't read it. He ran out of money, so he had to stop playing poker. When I was little I had a car door slammed shut on my hand. I still remember it quite vividly. I really want to go to work, but I am too sick to drive. Hurry! Two seats were vacant. I am never at home on Sundays. She did her best to help him. I currently have 4 windows open up… and I don’t know why. Rock music approaches at high velocity. The book is in front of the table. I am happy to take your donation; any amount will be greatly appreciated. The river stole the gods. I'd rather be a bird than a fish. If I don’t like something, I’ll stay away from it. I want more detailed information. I would have gotten the promotion, but my attendance wasn’t good enough. Lets all be unique together until we realise we are all the same. They got there early, and they got really good seats. We have a lot of rain in June. Check back tomorrow; I will see if the book has arrived.