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pug-bitch · 5 years

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That’s not why I’m going (26)

Yass Kween, right?

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake Walker x Amara Suarez

Rating: some foul language, some extremely suggestive, and a steamy scene. This is absolutely NOT appropriate for people under 18.

Word count: around 4,900 (let me know if the ‘keep reading’ cutoff isn’t working well!)

Notes: This picks up pretty much where we left off, during first night in the cabin (yes I am taking my sweet time writing the happier parts, after everything our little guys have been through!), starting with Drake’s POV.

*****

Drake sighs wistfully. He can’t sleep, but not because he’s stressed out. On the contrary, he’s too blissful to sleep, and he didn’t even know that was an option. He looks at Amara, who is peacefully asleep next to him. They made love three times, once outside, and twice upstairs, in his bed. Suddenly, it dawns on Drake that he’d never had sex in this bed. Always at the palace. In fact, he’d never brought a woman back here. Too intimate. Now he’s grateful; it only makes this night more special. He pushes a strand of hair away from Amara’s face so he can see her better. He feels like a creep for a second, watching he sleep, but he just loves her face so much. And seeing her like this, relaxed and asleep, makes him feel at peace. No comparison with the nightmares she used to have. Or maybe still has, PTSD doesn’t go away like that. But at least it has calmed down.

Drake hopes her stress doesn’t come back running when they get back to court. He loves Portavira, even Penelope’s parents’ estate is quiet and beautiful, no frills. But he just wishes they could both stay here. Maybe they could, someday? It feels like such a pipe dream.

First, they have to get through the last week of the competition. Drake shudders, remembering the last competition, when Leo had to propose to Madeleine and then skipped town, wreaking havoc on everything. Would it be as bad this time? Probably. Ever since Drake was with Amara and had snapped at Liam several times, he had no idea what was going through his mind. No more late night chats, no more confidence. Did he miss it? Sure, but nothing he can do about it now. Liam had been a dick to Amara a few weeks ago, and even if he was a lot better, it still doesn’t excuse everything he’s said and done. Drake simply doesn’t know if he can just go back to normal. They would hopefully stay friends, if Drake and Amara played their cards right and announced their relationship in a timely manner. But best friends again? Probably not.

Drake feels a pang in his chest just thinking back on all the moments Liam had been there for him and vice versa.

No more, he thinks. This is not the time to turn this happy night into a stressful one. He’d deal with everything another day. Maybe it would be a catastrophe --probably would be-- but right now, all he wants to do is keep snuggling with Amara.

His phone buzzes on the nightstand. Shit, he thinks. Hopefully Amara doesn’t wake up. He grabs it and sees a text.

Amara is lovely, Drake. Well done. It was good talking to you today, you look happy. I love you.

His mom never said anything this nice, not anymore, not since Dad had passed and Sav had left, and Drake had closed himself up. He could tell how much his mom had taken to Amara. Of course she would, Amara is the Sun. Easy to talk to, smart, funny. Hauntingly beautiful. God, he loves her.

Insightful, too. She’d hit the nail on the head a couple months ago, when they had talked about Drake’s mom having remarried and how it had made him feel. He starts typing.

Love you too, Mom. Happy you like her. I like her too...a lot. Give my best to Barry.

His mom instantly replies, visibly excited given the speed at which she typed the second message.

Barry says hi too!!!!!!!!! We both want to see you soon!!!

So many exclamation points. Maybe because to this day, Drake had never acknowledged his stepdad via text, except for the odd text for birthdays.

He puts the phone down and starts closing his eyes, hoping to join Amara in slumber soon.

*****

‘You can’t sleep either?’ Maxwell whispers, approaching his brother in the family room.

‘Oh, Maxwell, you scared me,’ he says, startled.

‘Sorry,’ Max mutters, stifling a smile. His brother is wearing a burgundy satin robe, and matching slippers. He’s sitting on the couch, his back perfectly straight, his legs crossed in his tweed pyjama pants. As he sees Maxwell come in, Bertrand tightens the tie of his robe, and Maxwell realizes that there are gold tassels on each end of the rope. He chuckles on the inside, remembering the one time Amara had asked him if Bertrand sleeps in a Victorian nightgown. This is almost worse. All he’s missing is a pipe. And maybe 30 years added to his age.

‘Do you want to sit down with me?’ Bertrand asks. As Max sits, he wishes he could take a picture of the robe and slippers to send it to Amara.

‘Are you ok?’ Max asks, forcing himself to be serious again.

‘I’m fine,’ Bertrand smiles weakly. ‘Just...thinking, you know.’

Max nods. ‘I know. Me too. I’ve been thinking about Mom and Dad a lot, and… this explains many things.’

‘It does. I’m sorry for keeping this from you for so long, Maxxie.’

Tears threaten to fall from Maxwell’s eyes. Years since Bertrand had called him Maxxie. ‘It’s ok, I get it. You were doing this to honor Dad’s memory.’ What’s Max’s excuse for keeping the Bartie secret from Bertrand? He knows he promised Dramara to hold on until they find her and get her side of the story, but he longs to be close to his brother again. The secrets are driving an invisible wedge between them.

‘Still,’ Bertrand whispers. ‘I’m sorry, Maxxie. Can you forgive me?’

‘Of course. We’re brothers. The Beaumont Boys. Nothing can keep us apart!’

Bertrand chuckles. ‘We are not boys, Maxwell.’

Max eyes him from head to toe. ‘No doubt about that, given what you’re wearing.’

Bertrand dismisses him with a hand gesture. ‘Oh stop. How is Hana holding up? She seemed well at dinner.’

‘She’s fine. Brave. Relieved. Strong. All of those adjectives. I can’t wait til tomorrow when we get to go hang out at the Walkers’ cabin. You sure you don’t want to come?’

Bertrand shakes his head. ‘I can’t. I’m meeting with Liam, remember?’

Shit, Max thinks. He really isn’t being a considerate brother right now. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

‘No, there’s no need, really. I would like to see you for maybe an hour tomorrow morning before you head to Portavira though, to convene of a plan that I can relay to Liam. You know, weigh some options.’

‘Of course! We’ll get coffee and discuss it.’

‘Great. Also… I think maybe we should both let Albert go, when all of this is said and done. Together, you know. To strengthen the Beaumont name and show that we are both proud of our father’s legacy.’

‘Yass Kween,’ Max says excitedly. He loves that Bertrand thinks of everything, from every angle.

Bertrand looks at him, confused. ‘Qu...queen? You mean Queen Regina?’

Max bursts out laughing. ‘No, Bertrand, it’s an expression! I’m just saying ‘Yass Kween’ to you, as in I love your idea.’

Bertrand squints. ‘So...I’m the queen in this scenario?’ He shakes his head. ‘I don’t get it, Maxxie.’

Max shrugs, grabs the remote, and fires up Netflix. ‘Oh well, since we’re both up, let’s just watch some Queer Eye, maybe then you’ll get it.’

*****

Liv wakes up in a sweat. She didn’t even realize that she had fallen asleep. She was awakened by a nightmare, the same recurring one for over twenty years: she’s a little girl, watching her parents disappear like holograms, unable to hold on to their hands.

She shakes her head and assesses her surroundings. Too much vodka last night.

She jumps at the sight of Rashad, sound asleep on her ottoman. So, they’d both passed out. Great.

She looks at the clock, it’s past 2am now. She gets up to pour herself a glass of water from the bathroom sink and shakes Rashad awake.

‘Wake up, Domvallier. We fell asleep.’

He jumps up, startled. ‘Huh?’

‘You’re on my ottoman. You should go.’

Rashad wipes his eyes, and slowly comes to. ‘Oh God, Liv, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to invade your space.’ He gets up hastily, and her heart sinks a bit. So, he did find her terrifying after all.

‘Hey, don’t worry, we just got too drunk and watched too many episodes.’

He starts washing his dirty glass and putting away the blanket he was using. Liv can’t believe he’s tidying up.

‘Leave it, I’ll do it. Thanks, though.’

He smiles and nods. ‘Thanks for the company, Nevrakis. It was a thousand times better than dinner would have been. Good night.’

Before she has time to respond, he’s out the door. She locks it behind him, gets out of her dress, and into bed. A strange feeling invades her. What is that? It feels warm, oddly normal and comforting. Like a blanket.

What the hell is she thinking? A fucking blanket? What happened, did this whole photo leak turn her into a pathetic mass of feelings? Stupid.

Regardless, she had a good night.

*****

Amara awakens to the sound of birds chirping at the window. She turns around, and sees Drake still spooning her, half asleep.

‘Morning, Suarez,’ he mutters, still sleepy.

‘Morning, Walker!’

She plants a kiss on his mouth, and he lingers a bit, kissing her deeper. God, she loves his kisses. He pulls her closer, their lips firmly tangled together, until she straddles him. She feels his cock between her legs, and she instantly feels herself get wetter and wetter. He smiles at her through their kiss, and lets out a soft moan as she rubs herself onto his hard cock. She wants to take her time, though. Thoroughly enjoy the morning with him. Feel his naked body against hers, truly feel him close.

They make love lazily, tenderly, for a long time. When they part, Amara nuzzles in Drake’s arms, comfortable and happy. ‘Can we stay here forever, please?’

Drake chuckles, kissing her head. ‘I wish, babe. Did you sleep well?’

‘Like a fucking baby. I even had nice dreams!’

He smiles at her, and she feels like her heart might explode. ‘You did? What did you dream of?’

‘Just some nice sceneries, some beaches, a quiet lakefront, and...you.’

He smiles again, a bright smile that shines on her like a Sun. ‘I’m glad you’re comfortable here.’

‘Oh, I am. So comfortable. Thanks for having me, Drake.’

He tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. ‘You don’t need to thank me. I can honestly say that I’ve never been happier.’

As if on purpose, Drake’s phone aggressively vibrates, and makes Amara jump with surprise.

Drake frowns and glances at it, with no visible plan to pick up. ‘It’s Liam,’ he says, his voice void of any enthusiasm.

‘Oh…’ Amara says, unable to say anything else.

‘I’m not picking up.’

She nods, silent. She almost says that he should, just so Liam doesn’t get suspicious. But right now, she doesn’t really care. ‘I’m excited to see the guys, but I’m gonna miss our alone time…’

Drake kisses her lips. ‘I am too… It’s been really nice to be away from the world. But I guess I--nevermind.’

She sits up, curious. ‘No no, tell me!’

Drake puts his head in his hands. ‘Ugh, I’m so lame. I was gonna say that I’m kind of excited about um…’ He pauses, and continues in a whisper. ‘Entertaining.’

Amara’s face lights up. She loves seeing him like this. He told her, weeks ago, that his dream was to open a small restaurant, and she can see why. He beams when he’s making his own food. And it doesn’t hurt that his cooking is absolutely delicious. She strokes his hair. ‘It’s not lame at all, it’s actually really sweet. And Drake?’

‘Hm?’

‘I love you.’

He pulls her closer, until her head rests against his chest again. ‘I love you too, Suarez. So fucking much.’

*****

Liam didn’t sleep at all. Well, maybe a little bit. Not much. He thought about what Madeleine had told him, and about his lack of agency in all that. About his father, who would probably not be around for much longer. About Amara, who didn’t reciprocate his feelings. About Olivia, who probably fucked her bodyguard to spite him. And about Drake, his best friend in the world, whom he really needed right now.

He waited until a decent time to call. A few weeks earlier, he wouldn’t have hesitated to call him at 4am if he needed to talk. But not now. Why, though? What happened to them that they didn’t even talk to each other anymore? Drake had been supportive enough, but probably just the bare minimum for someone who was like family. Liam missed him.

So, he called him as soon as it was appropriate. He figured, since he was at Ramsford, he was probably up early, what with Maxwell being a walking alarm clock.

But Drake hadn’t answered.

He tried again, several times, but no luck. He hesitated a bit, and after a quick look in his bathroom mirror, he realizes he cannot just stay with his own thoughts all day. He needs to be with his friends, even if only for a few hours. He needs to be at the Palace in the early afternoon for some meetings, including one with Bertrand, and at night he has a one-on-one with Kiara. But he has a couple of hours to kill.

He dials his phone.

‘Your Highness.’

Bastien always picks up right away. ‘Bastien, hello. Could you please take out the car? I need to go to Ramsford.’

*****

‘Do you think we need to bring her any nail polish?’

Maxwell was in charge of packing Amara’s suitcase, but Hana had insisted on helping him out. She responds right away, ‘Yes, I think so. What if hers is chipped? We did our nails together a couple of days ago already, so she may need some. Pack her light gray one, and also a bolder color. Oh, and her remover.’

Hana was carefully packing Amara’s dresses into a small suitcase. Enough formal wear for Penelope’s estate tomorrow and the day after, and some casual dresses, jeans, and a sweater for downtime. Heels, and her Steve Madden slip-ons. Hana was used to packing all the right things. She was used to doing all the right things.

She closes the suitcase, after Max hands her the toiletry bag that he has just made up. She sits on the bed, taking a breath to think about the amazing friendships she’s made here. She definitely does not want to go home, not anytime soon. Maybe she’s ready to come out to her parents, but she does not want to be under their control anymore. She wishes she could stay here, with the Beaumonts, or with Amara. But after the competition, there is something else she needs to do. If she doesn’t, she’ll have regrets for the rest of her life. She’ll gather all the strength she has, and go to London to see if she still has a chance, or if she truly messed up years ago.

She is drawn from her daydream by Max, who is gently tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. ‘What’s on your mind, baby girl?’

She smiles and shrugs. ‘Nothing much… I’m excited about tonight.’

Max beams. ‘Me too! You’ll see, the Walker cabin is beautiful, and so quiet, you will love it so much.’

She nods, ‘I can’t wait. I also really want to see Drake and Amara again. It’s weird without them.’

‘You mean Dramara?’

Hana laughs heartily, ‘If you say so!’

They both go back downstairs, where Bertrand awaits them for brunch. As they are all seated on the patio, digging into their frittatas, they see Liam’s towncar pull up. Hana’s heart jumps in her chest, and she looks over to Max, who looks agitated. Liam thinks Drake and Amara are here, what is he going to think when he sees that they are both gone?

Liam gets out of the car, and Hana cannot help but think that he looks terrible. Has he been sleeping? He certainly hasn’t been shaving today, or washing his hair.

‘Good morning, friends!’ he says as he approaches them. ‘Sorry for barging in, I was hoping I could see Drake.’

Maxwell regains his composure and responds, ‘Good morning Liam, please join us for brunch! Unfortunately Drake isn’t here, he had to go to his cabin to deal with something.’

Liam nods, but Hana can’t tell if he believed Max. ‘Oh ok, that would probably explain why he’s not answering his phone. I’d love to join for brunch, thank you Maxwell.’

He comes onto the patio and takes a seat at the table. Max gets up to fetch him a plate. The Beaumonts had dismissed their staff for a few days after they realized that one of their employees must have taken Liv’s phone. They were planning to question them as soon as possible, and in the meantime, they were getting by without help. Bertrand’s frittata was surprisingly good, though.

When Max comes back with Liam’s plate, they all bid each other bon appétit and start eating again. Liam, visibly surprised, asks, ‘Oh, aren’t we waiting for Amara?’

Oh God, Hana thinks. She has to think on her feet, think of something, anything.

As she’s about to open her mouth and improvise, Bertrand chimes in, sounding incredibly natural. ‘Lady Amara is in her bedroom, she has a migraine. She asked not to be disturbed, she needs to be in complete darkness.’

Damn, Bertrand, Hana thinks. How did he think on his feet so fast?

‘Goodness,’ Liam says, visibly convinced. ‘That’s too bad, poor Amara. Well, I’ll see her in Portavira tomorrow I hope.’

Bertrand flashes a bright smile. ‘I sure hope so! Those intense migraines ought to go away after a day, I’m sure.’

They finish their brunch all the while making small talk, all carefully avoiding the main topics at court. No one is even remotely mentioning Olivia or Madeleine or anything like that. Just pleasant, completely phony conversation.

As Liam gets ready to leave, Hana offers to accompany him to his car, which he gladly accepts. Once they are alone, she asks him, ‘Liam, are you ok?’

He chuckles, ‘I look like shit, don’t I?’

Hana is surprised to hear him curse. He’s always seen him very prim and proper, except when he was propositioning Amara. This time, it’s different. He really doesn’t look well. Still, she lies, ‘No, you look great! You just seem… preoccupied.’

He sighs and looks her in the eye. ‘I have no idea what I’m going to do, Hana. Truly no idea.’

Hana squeezes his arm and says, ‘If you need to talk about it, maybe you and I could grab coffee in Portavira tomorrow? Just a friend date, so you can put all your thoughts out there.’

He smiles, ‘I’d like that very much.’

Once Liam gone, she heads back inside, where the Beaumonts are finishing up their coffee in silence. She can tell that Max is dying to ask Bertrand about his lie, but is containing himself. Still, Hana wants to know. She needs to be bolder, just like she has been recently. So, she asks, ‘Bertrand, can I ask you something?’

He takes one last sip of his coffee and says matter-of-factly, ‘I had to make something up. I couldn’t let Liam get suspicious.’

Hana’s jaw drops. ‘What--what do you mean?’

Bertrand smiles faintly. ‘I’m not blind, Hana. I see what’s going on. I just don’t think Liam needs to know right now.’

Max’s eyes are the size of cantaloupes. ‘What do you mean you know what’s going on?’

‘Come on, Maxxie. Drake and Amara. It’s obvious.’

Max shakes his head and asks hesitantly, ‘You’re--you’re not mad?’

Bertrand snorts, ‘Oh dear, do you really see me as a grumpy old man who can’t rejoice for two people in love?’ He rolls his eyes. ‘Plus, with all the crap that’s raining on us right now, it’s nice that at least two of us are happy. Yass Kween, right Max?’

*****

‘Drake, can you come here?’

Drake is setting up their lunch table in the backyard, when Amara calls him from the kitchen. ‘Coming!’ he says.

‘I can’t find the baking powder, could you point me to it?’

He smiles, and digs deep in the cupboard where the baking powder is behind a bunch of cans. ‘Here you go, babe. How’s the batter going?’

She smiles excitedly. ‘Great! I cut the pineapple in little pieces, and plus I found some coconut shavings in your pantry, so I’m adding that to the cake.’

He chuckles as he sees that her face is covered with flour. She must not be very gentle when mixing her batter. ‘Where’s your phone? I gotta take a picture of your face right now, it’s priceless!’

‘Oh come on,’ she says, attemting to wipe her face. ‘It’s over there, if you insist on making fun of me.’

He picks up her phone, and notices the multiple missed calls. ‘Um, Amara? Did you see this?’

‘Hm?’ she asks absentmindedly, adding the baking powder to her mixing bowl.

He shows her her phone. ‘Michael. He called you eight times, just today, and it’s only like 6am in New York.’

He hates himself right away for bringing it up, when he sees the cloud loom over her eyes. ‘I know. I’m just not ready to talk to him.’

Drake nods. ‘I get it. He texted you, too, you don’t want to at least read what he wrote?’

‘No,’ she says curtly. ‘I know he’s going to apologize, that’s what my dad said. I don’t want to hear it now, I don’t want to think about it. I’ll deal with it another time.’ She pauses. ‘I know what it must look like.’

He closes the distance between them and wraps his arms around her. ‘It looks like you’re hurting and I want to help you get better, because I love you.’

She nods, obviously fighting back tears. ‘I love you too. I appreciate you wanting to help me…’

‘Hey, you’re helping me find my sister. we have each other’s backs, ok?’

‘Fair. But the situation with your sister is promising. It holds hope. My situation with Michael is fucked. He will never see me as his sister ever again. I’ll always be the person who failed his entire family.’

Drake holds her tighter. ‘I hope you know that it’s not true. Remember what your father said. Forgive yourself.’

She nods and offers a faint smile. ‘I’m trying, Drake. I really, really am. But for right now, I think the best way for me to do that is to keep some distance between me and Michael. It hurts us both too much. Hopefully someday…’

She trails off, plants a kiss on Drake’s lips, and continues mixing her batter. Drake watches her intently, his heart aching for her. He wants to take away the pain. But really, he’s probably making it worse, comparing her situation to his own with Sav. Sav is alive, and Drake will, hopefully, see his little sister soon.

Amara will never see her brother again.

But Drake can’t help but think about what she had told him about her bond with Michael. That they used to be like siblings. He hopes that, one day, she finds this bond again.

‘Do you want a beer with lunch?’ he asks, trying to lighten the mood.

Without looking up from her mixing bowl, which should be completely mixed by now, she says ‘Sure, if you’re having one.’

*****

Amara doesn’t want to ruin the moment. No, on the contrary, these moments spent with Drake in the cabin are so special, so happy, that she wants nothing more than to enjoy them. But she has a lump in her throat now, that she can’t swallow just yet. Not Drake’s fault, not at all. He doesn’t understand completely, how could he? He’s lost people he loved, of course, but not by his own fault. Not in circumstances that he could have avoided.

He understands her well otherwise. She’s never had a connection like this one in her life, not ever. She knows what he’s trying to do, too. He wants her to reconnect with Michael and find the sibling connection that they lost along with Sergio. But she knows that she can’t force that. They both need the space, even if Michael isn’t aware of it right now.

She wonders for a second if something is truly wrong, and if she should in fact call him back, or at least read his texts before deleting them. She shakes her head. No, if anything was wrong, Dad would call. Amara had answered every single text from her dad and Nancy during her time in Cordonia. After her dad’s heart attack, she never took a chance with a missed call.

Once the cake is in the oven, she sets the times --that damn cockblocking timer-- and joins Drake outside. When she sees his face, she realizes right away that he feels bad for insisting earlier. Her heart melts a bit. She’s been too harsh, too radical with him. He just wants her to be happy.

She softens and smiles, kissing his cheek before sitting at the table.

‘You ok?’ he asks.

‘Yeah. Sorry about earlier. I get why you said all that, and I love that you want the best for me. Thank you.’

He smiles, visibly more relaxed, and kisses her hand. He holds on to it for a while.

*****

Madeleine checks her phone for an answer from the middleman. Finally, her screen lights up.

It is booked. Arrival Friday morning.

She suppresses a smile. Her idea was retained. She knows they have something else in store for her, something big and public apparently, but she thinks they need more ammo for this bitch. Something more personal. Something to break her.

Oh well, they’ll see on Friday.

For now, she needs to make nice with the others. She puts on her best fake smile, and heads to Kiara’s room, who she knows is getting ready for a one-on-one with Liam in a few hours.

‘Knock knock!’ Madeleine says out loud.

‘Entrez!’ she hears Kiara reply.

Ugh, she thinks. Why is this bitch constantly speaking French? Madeleine had always thought that French was a language for whores and peasants. But she has to keep that smile on. She can’t make all enemies. ‘Hi, Kiara,’ she says. ‘Want some company?’

Kiara is sitting at her vanity and she is putting on makeup. ‘Oui, avec plaisir!’

Madeleine comes in and closes the door behind her. ‘So, are you ready for the big date?’

‘Oh I definitely am,’ Kiara purrs. Madeleine can’t believe that Kiara has a date with Liam before her, but oh well. Soon enough, everything will be under control.

‘Do you know where he is taking you?’

‘I think he wants to go get a drink and take a stroll through the Capital. It should be fun!’

Madeleine nods, keeping up appearances. She and Kiara were close, once. When they were younger and probably more naive, full of dreams and hope. Before Leo fucked it all up and made Madeleine have to go get things on her own instead of simply sitting back and relaxing. Back when Kiara wanted to bone Walker, and marry a diplomat. And now that stupid bitch thinks she has a shot at being an actual Queen? Ha! If she could, Madeleine would laugh.

Madeleine responds, ‘Yes, you will have fun, I have no doubt. Now, is that what you’re wearing?’

*****

‘Babe, look at my cake! I think I didn’t fuck it up!’

Drake looks over his shoulder while he’s doing the dishes. ‘Wow, that cake looks fucking delicious. Well done!’

Amara beams. The cook of the house, complimenting her cake? She definitely is a decent baker, but it’s been a while since she has baked something, unless you count that apple pie competition at Applewood Manor, or as Drake refers to it, the ‘apple shit’.

She used to bake with her mom, back in the day, but of course she would only do the mixing and the bowl licking, and none of the oven business, she was too little for that.

‘Alright,’ she says, ‘now i’m gonna make a pitcher of margarita.’ As Drake opens his mouth to say something, she pursues, ‘Or maybe two. Two, right? It’s Max and Liv we’re talking about.’

‘My thoughts exactly,’ Drake chuckles.

Before getting started on the lime juice and tequila, she goes over to Drake and hugs him. ‘I’m so happy to be here with you.’

‘I’m happy too, babe. It feels right to have you here.’

As if on cue, there is a knock on the door. Amara can already hear Max and Hana joke around on the other side of the door. She kisses Drake’s cheek and goes over to open.

‘It’s us, bitches!’ Maxwell yells. ‘And we brought Olivia!’

*****

Taglist:

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Thank you for your encouragements, everyone! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

#that's not why i'm going #dramara #drake x amara #drake walker x amara suarez #trr drake #drake x mc #drake walker x mc #drake walker trr #drake walker #drake trr #trr #the royal romance #the royal romance fanfic #choices fanfiction

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candlefright · 4 years

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The Blob (1988)

This is less of a new venture and more of a reflective blurb.

Can we all just sit down and talk about the underappreciated remake; the ooky spooky oozy woozy gobbling wobbling Blob?

Please be advised that reading further will result in potential spoilers for the film listed in title and related films: so if you haven’t seen The Blob (1988); come back when you have, or abandon all hope, ye who enter here…

I was a thirteen year-old babysitter the first time I watched this movie. When you babysit, you inevitably wind up with some free time when the kid lays down for bed and you’re waiting on the parents to get home. A brief period of time where you get to feel semi-adult, and for tweens like me, steeped in my own burgeoning angst, a scary movie was the closest thing to a thrill I could touch without putting myself in danger. I popped some popcorn, I pulled out the snacks I couldn’t have when the kid was up. I hopped on-Demand (some of you might not remember on-Demand, I feel old writing it out) and found Chuck Russel’s The Blob. I was already familiar with the hokey but legendary original from 1958. I figured it was within my fear threshold; nothing to worry about, why not dive in head first?

Let me start with the facts, The Blob opened on August 5th in 1988, sandwiched between Cocktail (July 29) and Young Guns (August 12). In the commentary and in interviews, director Russel has attributed the film’s lack-luster success with the competition it faced hitting the box office. It’s true, Cocktail grossed nearly $12 million opening weekend and was given extended runs of up to ten weeks in some theaters. Young Guns fared about as well, breaking $7 million in it’s first week and packing theaters for nearly eight weeks in some locations. The Blob, however, grossed only nearly $3 million, with what has been estimated to be about $9-10 million budget, and averaged a modest two-week run in most theaters on average. (Source: The Numbers)

Now, over thirty years later (and 60 years since the original), the film has respect, but in my opinion, not nearly enough.

The horror snobs will tell you that The Blob remake doesn’t stand up in comparison to films like The Fly, or it’s cosmic-horror cousin, The Thing. I’m calling bullshit. The remakes of The Fly and The Thing are phenomenal, refreshed versions of influential films, and The Blob deserves equal respect. While The Fly and The Thing leaned on the edge of a very serious, professional revamp; The Blob dared to poke fun at the tropes of the original, and then willfully and literally fed a tired stereotype to the beast. They also framed a female as the unlikely hero while illustrating her journey in a subtle way that only young girls with experience in microaggressions can understand. While The Fly and The Thing are remarkable remakes, and remakes that I cherish and love; they both center on the male persona. The Blob invites the strong female perspective and openly challenges the idea of the strong male lead.

Shawnee Smith plays the role of the high school cheerleader. Her doe-eyed stare is one of the first things we encounter during a scene that I appreciate for it’s illustrative power. The setting appears deserted until this scene. A small town lured into sleepy stasis right before the introduction of each leading role. The silence is dispelled by cheers and stomps; the entire town is at the local football game. So we see, this is a small town. Everyone knows each other by name. Children grew up together here. There is a delicate shell of community waiting to crack under the flat foot of impending doom. This scene is fragmented by the cheers of the crowd. We see Meg the cheerleader (Shawnee) pining over the freshly sacked, dazed Paul (played by actor Donovan Leitch Jr.) who comically asks her out on a date right there on the ground, still counting the cartoon birds orbiting his skull. He feels like the stereotypical male character, the re-imagining of Steve McQueen’s Steve from the original. The football player and the cheerleader; this feels like the serendipitous event that would normally predate a love story.

Meanwhile between claps and thunderous booms, the camera flashes to our third lead role: Brian Flagg (played by actor Kevin Dillion; yes, Matt Dillon’s brother.), the skid row rebel with a bad reputation and seemingly no concern for his own safety; as expressed by his weak attempt to jump a broken bridge on his motorcycle (of course, bad boy).

We’re seeing what feels like an immediate dynamic between the three; notice they will be relevant and can speculate the potential relationship they will have with one another. We can see Meg as the girl next door, Paul as the white knight in football gear, and Brian as the trouble-making instigator who will almost certainly be butting heads with Paul. Spoiler alert: all of these initial assumptions are true.

Brian Flagg is your classic bad boy “fuck you, won’t do what you tell me” burn-out who is known by name at the local police station. Granted, this comes as no surprise in a small town, but his relationship with Sheriff Herb (played by my Walking Dead favorite, actor Jeffrey DeMunn), who warns him to watch his behavior now that he can officially be considered an adult in the eyes of a judge. Brian scoffs this off characteristically, butting out his cigarette and rolling his eyes in the way boys with authority complexes tend to do.

The film proceeds down a long, horrifying snail trail of goopy gore and apocalyptic dread. If you’ve seen the film, I won’t bore you with one great long write-up of each scene, but I will pick out my favorites.

At the local pharmacy, Paul and his wannabe frat friend Scott Jeske (played by actor Ricky Paull Goldin) lurk around. Scott needs to pick up some skins for what he hopes will be a lucky night with his squeeze. This is the bait-and-switch that totally eviscerates McQueen’s role in the 1958 original. Without our knowing, Scott has inherited Steve iconography, and we get a peak at the nature of high school boys and their burgeoning sexuality. We see the other side of popularity, of the jock reputation. Chivalry flies out the window, and we laugh at Scott when the local priest reverend Meeker (played by Beware! The Blob!’s Del Close) grills him on his participation in the church. All the while, waiting for a pack of condoms to be delivered by the pharmacist. I still laugh wholeheartedly when Mr. Penny, the local pharmacist (and Meg’s father) stands between the good reverend and Scott and asks: “You want the ribbed, or the regular?”

This joke is only further extended past the punchline when Scott denies that the condoms are for himself, but rather for his friend Paul, who he says is too nervous to get them himself. Moments later, Paul will come to retrieve Meg. He encounters Mr. Penny, who peers over his newspaper and, with wide eyes, delivers one of the most memorable lines of the whole film: “Ribbed.” (Fun fact: the condom scene was based off of a real event from the director’s life.)

Paul and Meg’s date is interrupted when they nearly reduce a homeless man to a skid mark on asphalt. A homeless man whose hand has been completely engulfed by our star; the lovely baby blob. Brian is in hot pursuit, trying to calm the old man in that I’m-damaged-but-I-have-a-heart kind of way, earning him some gentleman points and drawing him into the triangle we ruminated on earlier. As expected, Paul and Brian immediately butt heads. It’s clear that the jock/bad boy dynamic is completely in play, here. Paul wants Brian to stay, basically accusing him of foul play- while Brian is quick to want to disengage. Meg is stuck in the middle, focusing on things more important than a pissing contest: like the wounded man they’ve helped into the car. What follows once they reach the hospital is quite honestly one of the most terrifying scenes I ever watched as a young girl.

Paul’s death hit me like a Mack-fucking-truck. Even as a kid, I had immediately cataloged him as a main character. He was safe, untouchable, the football superstar. The McQueen legacy. I read about this scene. Leicht really was under all of that slime (mostly composed of a thickening agent called methocel), struggling for air. Comparable to being waterboarded, Leicht crawled inside a large base shell and was covered in the flimsier material before it was pulled and dragged over his face to create the harrowing effect.

Oh, my gods. How my face mirrored Meg’s in that moment. I remember pausing the movie and getting out of my chair, earnestly shocked and frightened. I was thirteen, and shaking. I was disgusted, terrified, and stunned. I gathered myself, and stomached the rest. Watching Meg struggle to free Paul, only for his arm to slough away into a soupy mess- it will always stick with me. To this day I will re-watch this scene and marvel it as one of the first films to ever solicit my interest in the special effects industry.

Alterian Studios was responsible for these unholy effects, including special effects legends like Tony Gardner, whose film credit list reads like a Walgreen’s receipt; Chet Zar (who had a credit in Dark Man for his special effects prowess), and the incredible Bill Sturgeon (who had a hand in several favorites and cult classics such as Army of Darkness, Hocus Pocus, Aliens, and Killer Klowns from Outer Space). The work of this team, those mentioned and unmentioned, is really impressive. Practical effects were always a part of the horror scene, from the very beginning; but the 80′s really welcomed and embraced a new age of creativity. It wasn’t enough to just produce a monster anymore, it was about fooling the audience into believing these things could climb right out of the screen and swallow you whole if you dared to look away. While the crew in charge of legends like The Thing and The Fly will forever be shining stars in any fan’s lexicon- The Blob only smoldered, and now rests as a sort of hidden gem that I feel nobody gives a second glance. Which is shameful. If you’ve seen The Thing, The Fly, From Beyond, Event Horizon, or any other FX-heavy horror: The Blob should most certainly have a place somewhere in that collection. No excuses.

After Paul’s death I was primed for the rest of the movie. I really was, my sense of safety was shattered and I was on the edge of my seat with sweating palms. Who was going to be next? The blob dissolved people!? I was stuck between fear and fascination. Paul’s death is a showstopper, an absolute mess that deserves more recognition than it has received, and to place it beneath the visualizations of its like-films is just a shame. Watch Paul’s face as it stretches and then deflates and slips away into the ambiguity of the blob; with streams of syrupy red blood streaming into what looks like a sentient tumor.

Scott’s death is also an honorable mention. I appreciate this scene mostly because of what it represents to me as a fan of the original: the burning effigy. Scott represents what is left of that football player icon. He’s also a total sleaze who, for some reason, has a fully stocked bar in his trunk and a collection of class rings to toss out like party favors. His karma comes so quick, he watches his dates face cave in like a sinkhole, then gets swallowed up himself.

Scott’s death felt like a high-five. The demise of the jocks resonated with me; pointed out the bad in both of them- how chivalry could be just as boring as sleaze. These men weren’t special, they were poignant representations of the type of boys we all fall in love with: The white knight, who uses his chivalry as a means to assert dominance, and the sleaze- who uses sheer charisma to assert dominance. Watching both of these boys literally melt away within the first 30 minutes felt like a deliberate act of kicking that tired, overused trope out of the picture. Which just leaves us with leather-jacket McGee; Brian Flagg.

Another one of my favorite scenes is when Meg chews Brian for being so damn apathetic. She looks him in the face, searching for help in what is a helpless situation, and he totally dumps on her. His fuck-me-fuck-you attitude completely ignites her. She said what I was thinking as a girl:

“You act like you're different, you put on this big show, but you're just like everybody else in this town, you're full of SHIT, Flagg!”

This is the moment where Meg completely rejects what would be a characteristic stereotype.

It is so important, how her exhaustion eclipses her next-door nature. How as a female character, she blinks away the obscurity of the male-savior trope and calls a spade a spade. Dressing rebellion up in a leather jacket doesn’t make a hero. A hero spits in the face of apathy, the way Meg does to Brian, confronting his bullshit “I don’t care” attitude with her own intuition. Pretenders don’t survive horror movies. Hell, even heroes don’t survive horror movies always, and Meg makes that poignantly clear by throwing Brian’s crybaby hungry boy attitude back into his face. The apocalypse is a little more urgent than your abandonment anxiety or survival complex, Brian. This is final girl energy, that utter rejection of fate, that “fuck fate, I will change it with my bare hands” sense of responsibility. Meg is a small town girl, a small town hero- and a bad motherfucking bitch.

So, needless to say, Brian quits pouting and hops on board. Is it because he’s got a thing for Meg? Does she remind him of his place in this spiraling catastrophe? Is she a love interest? His motivation felt driven by his attraction to her, perhaps his own responsibility- feeling obligated to shield the token sacrificial lamb from an inevitable end. Whatever it is that drives him, he resigns himself to helping her- and the horrors star to accumulate around them. Including the death of a cook (sucked down the drain almost comically), and the death that gave me a panic attack: the sweetheart waitress Fran Hewett (played by the lovely Candy Clark).

Fran’s death was scary because it fully described, without mystery, what it felt like to be aware of your own approaching death. She scrabbles in the phone booth like a trapped animal, dialing 911 in search of Sheriff Herb. When his head floats into her line of sight, half-dissolved and digesting within the Blob, terror sets in like a death rattle. The shots of this scene are claustrophobic and stifling. We feel her raw terror, we see her as the individual who cracks in the face of death- the real sacrificial lamb of the film. Her role, though small, was innocent and wholesome. We’ve all known a waitress by name, we’ve all been treated special by that woman who seems to channel maternal energy. Watching her die feels like peering down the barrel of a loaded gun. She braces herself against the booth and then the glass breaks, engulfing poor Fran in a mass of agonizing pink gloop.

This scene was filmed using a mock-booth that was only 3ft tall, with an articulated doll made of Candy. They blasted the doll with air mortars to create what was the world-ending scene of the film for me. I myself am claustrophobic, and this entire experience sat with me long after I watched the movie. I would have nightmares of being trapped inside a photo booth, surrounded by pink, waiting to be burned away to slime.

The blob gets bigger, angrier, and more effective. It infiltrates the local theater through the air ducts and wreaks havoc for a strobe-festered horror on the crowd inside. Children are swallowed up, girls peel off the floor like melted bubble gum, and our main characters juggle the chaos with the introduction of the fucking government.

That’s right, the Blob is a scientific experiment gone AWOL. I’ll give kudos to Brian for his role in their involvement. Where Meg believed in the integrity of the government, Brian sets her straight: these people are worse than the thing they created. I’m not trying to say not to trust the government (now I am, don’t trust the government), but the film definitely winks at what is a very real concern. The danger of government experiments, what would happen if something like this actually took place? My first thought was that they were going to nuke the city, blow it to smithereens the way we saw in Return of the Living Dead. However, it seems that they don’t intend to do this, instead these hazmat poindexters want to sacrifice the whole town to the “specimen”. They scare the public into believing Brian and Meg are “infected” with a pathogen related to the Blob. One of my favorite supporting characters, the lead scientist Dr. Meddows, does his best to manipulate the public into a sense of ease. He seals Meg, her little brother, Brian, and a fellow colleague in the sewer in order to preserve his specimen. Human life is expendable. He meets his deserved end by literally getting sucked out of his suit (a comical, entertaining way to see someone go).

I won’t leave without mentioning the death of the melt veteran from Robocop; actor Paul McCrane’s deputy Bill Briggs. Dude literally got folded in half hamburger-style and was never seen again. Props to that effect, was very cool.

Like the blob in the original, this blob doesn’t do the cold. Long story short, they run a truck full of CO2 into the big pink mess and freeze it into tiny shards. The good reverend from the beginning has lost his mind throughout all of this, and I suppose, in honor of open endings, saves a piece of the blob for the day his senile ass wants to bring about a second coming.

Though Meg and Brian both live through the entire ordeal, the film is still satisfying. You root for them the whole time, you bite your fingernails and wait for the moment a pink tendril comes out to end it all.

The Halloween movie had underwhelmed me as a child. I wasn’t checking every room of the house for a masked man. I was looking in my sink and my shower for signs of a color out of space. I could rationalize a murder. I couldn’t make sense of a manufactured organism getting out of control. I couldn’t rationalize or shake away the fear of being enveloped in viscous sentient acid.

Say what you will about The Blob remake. Say it isn’t as influential, you’re lying. Say it isn’t as entertaining, you’re definitely lying. The Blob is a hilarious half-satire about the things that scare us the most: things we can’t understand nor control. It taps into the same vein of supernatural fear that cosmic classics like The Thing and The Fly boast about.

If you haven’t seen it; do.

If you’ve seen it but not in a while: go back, sit down, pop some corn, settle in, and take it in. Take it in for the silly filming errors, the drifting booms and clockable reflections, the subtle mistakes in FX. Appreciate it for what it is, a sci-fi thriller that isn’t afraid to make fun of where it came from.

Stop spending as much time comparing films that pushed the limits of what are now very modern special effects. Appreciate the handiwork of the practical magic involved in making this shit come to life. With the rise of CGI, films like The Blob are going to become increasingly more difficult to find. That’s not necessarily a knock on CGI, I have appreciation for it as a separate medium- but practical effects will always have me by my balls.

Enjoy craftsmanship, watch The Blob.

#horror #blogging #the blob #blog #review #spooky

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eyez-ff-blog · 8 years

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○○ eyez | forty-nine

Beija sat at the back of the chauffeured SUV as she scrolled through her phone, one leg draped over the other as the flowing material of her black slacks seemed to move with help from the window she opened when she got into the car. She quietly answered emails as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear, llicking over her nude-painted lips as she encountered several gossip articles about being seen outside of the apartment alone. Her new hair was stick “shocking” the masses of social media, and everyone was wondering what Mrs. Cole was up to now. Whatever it was had a lot of celebrities involved, since the unusual influx of famous faces seemed to inflate within the past couple of days. Something was up, and everyone wanted to know what it was.

As a matter of fact, this was what she was on the way to do at that very moment—advertise her plans to the world for the very first time.

The last of the ‘Forever Boy Fright Night’ details were cemented into place, and what was once Beija’s dream was about to become a reality in two days. She actually appreciated Jermaine’s suggestion for them to stay in New York after Nicole’s shower a whole lot more now than she had already appreciated it then, because being able to just be near the center of the action was exactly what she needed. As stressful as everything had been, she had been able to handle it all with grace and without much stress. By October 27th, her hard work will have finally paid off, and the world would be exposed to Beija’s first endeavor under her brand. She wanted to extend far beyond the reaches of her husband’s fame, or even her own work within Dreamville. She wanted a legacy that would last a lifetime, and now she finally felt like she was on her way to doing so.

The more she thought about Jermaine, the more she thought to call him. The last big argument they had lingered in her mind even months later, but it surprisingly didn’t leave any foul taste within her mouth. It was to the contrary in reality—that release of energy between them was what she needed. She would never know what she could handle when it came to J unless he placed those things upon her, and she was glad that he finally came clean. It was becoming easier for her to do the same. It hurt to see one of the strongest men she knew tremble in fear and sadness before her, but the humanity she saw in her husband that night made her love him more now than she ever could have before. She’d never forget it or look to devalue it.

After answering one of her last emails, she yawned as she dialed the usual number, the contact name ‘Old Man’ flashing across her screen before a photo of a sleeping Jermaine showed soon after, letting it be known that he was receiving the call. Eventually, the line connected and she could hear the sounds of Elmo’s laughter in the background. “Hello?” J’s sleepy voice filled Beija’s ears and she still couldn’t stop herself from blushing at the gravelly tone of his voice.

“Hi. I’m almost at the radio station,” She said quietly. “Actually—can you make a quick stop at Starbucks? I really need some caffeine before I deal with this,” She spoke to the driver, and he nodded as he took a detour from the original path.

“Okay...you’re gonna do amazing. Just avoid anything Charlamagne gotta say unless he actually saying some shit. Listen closely to Envy, he might try to sneak some shit in there and have you in a sticky spot. Angela’s cool, she’ll most likely ask all the gossipy questions though,” Jermaine rattled off the information expertly and Beija took a heed to his words.

“Got it,” She answered to ensure she was listening to him.

“Also, don’t be nervous and know that you don’t gotta answer shit you don’t want to. Remember, it’s about Forever Boy,” He said.

“Right. Okay, well I’m about to go to Starbucks then I’m headed up there. You’re gonna listen in, right?” She asked.

“Yeah. Everybody in the group chat’s already listening to the radio too,” J chuckled lowly. “We’re rooting for you, mama.”

“Okay,” Beija smiled a bit before she sunk into the leather of the seat. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too. Kill that interview, B.”

Beija hung up the phone and she took a deep breath before she slid out of the car before heading towards the moderately sized coffee shop. She allowed her six-inch heels to guide her as they clicked against the concrete, and she could hear the clicking of cameras. She merely adjusted her light suit jacket before she headed inside of the establishment. Beija approached the counter and ordered an Iced Cinnamon Almond Milk Macchiato and a Blueberry muffin, and tried not to draw too much attention towards herself. A couple people did recognize her and she kept a placid smile as she took a couple photos, but she was out of the place in less than 10 minutes. She was actually ahead of schedule, so she wasn’t too worried about the time.

After another 10 minute ride to the radio station, Beija was ushered out of the car before the driver made sure she was completely out of the car, shutting the door. “Good luck, Mrs. Cole.”

“Thank you.”

She headed inside the building before she threw away her trash, and from the moment she was recognized she was led to the proper studio booth where the interview would be held. She slipped off her jacket as she entered the room, and Envy was the first one to stand to his feet to greet her. She shook hands with everyone before they took a seat.

“Okay, these are a summary of the questions we’ll be asking as we spoke over on the phone,” Charlemagne passed Beija the list of questions they had negotiated over some days previous—it was the only way she’d do the interview. “This is tentative so we may only cover a couple of these depending on how long the interview runs. Otherwise, we’re just having a regular conversation, having a good time. You ready?” He asked.

“When you are,” Beija nodded quickly before she relaxed in her chair.

She counted down the time in her mind, and eventually the ‘On Air’ sign on the wall lit a bright red.

“Good morning everybody—this is DJ Envy,” Envy began his usual introduction. “Angela Yee, Charlemagne the God, and we are The Breakfast Club. We have a special guest today!”

“Twitter dragged me for calling her this, but I still think she’s ‘Lil’ Beyoncé,” Charlemagne joked, and Beija let out a laugh. “Beija Cole is in the building,” He began to laugh as well.

“Well, you asked for that right there. Nobody told you to call me that,” Beija chuckled softly.

“I mean think about it—you and Cole even got the same initials. J and B. No coincidence,” Charlemagne egged on playfully.

“But for those who may not know who you are, tell them about yourself,” Angela chimed in.

“Well, as it’s been said—my name is Beija Cole,” Beija seemed to be proud to even say that. “I’m the head of the A&R department over at Dreamville Records,” She explained. “I’m also the wife of J. Cole,” She tried not to pay attention to the camera that was in the room, seeing that she knew it would be there.

“You guys have been married for a little bit now—almost a year. Congratulations by the way,” Angela complimented.

“Thank you.”

“But what has it been like? Your road to marriage and everything that entails has been under a microscope, and I know being a rapper’s wife isn’t easy. How have you been handling it all?” Angela’s angle with her questions seemed to be a bit more personal, and Beija picked up on the intention immediately. She didn’t see it as a malicious move, but she still had to be careful in how she tackled the questions.

“Well, it’s really just a normal life for me now—we’re both in the thick of the entertainment business so it’s not that hard. But when I’m at home, he’s not a rapper to me and I’m not an A&R to him. We’re just a couple, and we deal with what we deal with the best way we can,” Beija answered. “Between that and our daughter, I just remember that I am a part of a team and I can’t do it all alone.”

“Cole’s latest album, Sinner Reborn, has been hailed as the number one rap album of 2018 so far—it’s also been painted as one of his most honest and open illustrations of your relationship,” Envy began. “Was that a hard pill for you to swallow, to have everything out there in the open?”

“Initially. It was like pulling back a curtain and everyone then had a glimpse into your life,” Beija fiddled with her hands under the table to keep herself from growing too nervous. “I think anyone in my position would have been absolutely afraid, but after a while I realized that people were already making up rumors and talking about us when we were giving people bits and pieces. Now, nobody can really check us. Anything you wanna say about me or Cole has already been revealed by us at this point,” Beija said.

“When you first started as an A&R, you were initially in college, going to NYU. Now you’re responsible for pretty much all of the label you’re on—Dreamville’s first band, Twisted Elegance is predicted to nab a Pop Grammy nomination. J.I.D. has also been predicted for Rap, and Ari Lennox, one of your first finds, just might get the R&B album nom,” Envy continued. “With such blended styles of music, was this what you anticipated for the label, or is this a surprise to you?”

“It’s a pleasant surprise but it’s all that I ever wanted for my musical family,” Beija smiled as she spoke of the people she had grown to love like her own blood. “When I decided I wanted to be an A&R, this was exactly what I had hoped to accomplish within the industry. Dreamville has never been about just success—we love our music and the passion we place into every song or feature is genuine. To know that we are finally getting the rest of the world to catch on is truly a blessing. It wasn’t what I expected, but it’s happening at the right time for everyone,” She answered.

“So let’s see...Wife, Mother, Career Woman...what’s next? You saving the world?” Charlemagne joked, and the room let out a collective laugh.

“Uh, maybe? I do have an event coming up,” Beija felt like that was his way of transitioning into why she was truly there, so she took the baton and ran with it. “It’s for my new charity, the Forever Boy Project,” She explained.

“So you are why everyone’s in town,” Angela chuckled. “But is it a coincidence that it’s named after one of the songs from Reborn?”

“It was done purposely. Forever Boy was Cole’s dedication to my brother Rashaad, who was killed in 2002 at the hands of a Houston police officer,” Beija clutched her fists under the table to keep her tears from coming. “So the Forever Boy Project is my own dedication to my brother—I want to start a positive dialogue between Police and the public, and I want to put a good pressure upon lawmakers and enforcement to start seeing the black community as partners and not as a threat,” She summarazied.

“I think that’s dope—we need more conversation about what’s happening to these black men and women out there,” Envy answered. “So this is a Halloween party of sorts?” He asked.

“That and an introductory event, but we have a lot more in store that will cater to everyone—we have plans for something huge in March, but Cole and I both will be back for that announcement,” Beija smiled gently.

“Oh wow—see, what did I say? They’re trying to take over the world,” Charlemagne argued, and Beija let out another small laugh.

The interview went on in the same manner, basically giving the public a better glimpse of the enigmatic woman who just happened to steal J. Cole’s heart. By the end of the 45-minute interview, it seemed like there was a bit more of a personality added to Beija’s name, and she was satisfied with the way the interview went. She skipped any questions she didn’t want to answer, and navigated everything in a way that she was able to control and make things end in her favor. Most importantly, people now knew more about the charity.

Exiting the Power 105.1 headquarters, she felt a weight lift from her shoulders before she climbed into the SUV, and she checked her watch before she took out her phone, instantly going into full work mode.

“Where to now, Mrs. Cole?”

“To the venue first, please.”

The SUV pulled from the curb and she began to sort through her emails, from answering and confirming guest lists, to ordering she and Jermaine’s costumes. She kept her face within her phone the entire way before she was pulled in front of the large building. She hopped out of the car once the door was opened for her, and she hurried up the steps as she saw workers coming in and out of the building.

In the center of everything was the event coordinator and her publicist Lucas, who were talking to one another as workers were turning the broad and empty space into a fantasy world of darkness and frightening fun. Tables made for the 250 high profile guests were already within the space, with the tables and chairs dressed in soft black table cloth, and the workers were now building the stage where the DJ booth would be, along with an LED screen and space for people to move upon.

“Luke,” Beija called out, and the man turned around before he nodded respectfully. “Did you hear the interview?” She asked.

“I did; you did a great job! You hit all the points you needed and most importantly, we shed light on the charity. You sure you need me?” He asked playfully, and she laughed softly with a nod.

“Yes I do! Just in case somebody has an issue with something I said,” She turned towards the event coordinator before she gave the woman a soft smile. “So how’s everything here?” She asked.

“Okay so we’ve got all of the main things together—as you can see the tables have been decorated as you designed,” The woman began. “We’ll be putting up the curtains and décor after the stage has been finished. Tomorrow we will bring in the balloons and set the tables, along with rolling out the orange carpet for your guests’ arrival,” She continued.

“And the gift bags and thank you notes?” She asked.

“All have been finished and tucked away in the back. Also, the caterer just called me and said that the menu has been finalized and that he and his team are going out today to get the ingredients and things together,” The coordinator explained, and Beija nodded with a small smile.

“Great, looks like everything is on schedule. Lucas, can you make sure to call Maurice tomorrow about the website? I want to make sure that everything is ready for the launch tomorrow,” She said.

“I’ll call him and keep you posted. Also, I finished getting the Facebook and Twitter accounts together. Remember, you have to do an Instagram Live feed tomorrow before the party so you can talk to the public,” He explained.

“Gotcha. We’re on a roll right now—I feel good about this,” Beija said with a grin.

After spending some more time making sure that everything was going according to plan, Beija took a break to go get some lunch at one of her favorite spots in Manhattan. After lunch and a stop at the costume boutique to pick up she and J’s outfits, she headed back home to rest up. Tomorrow was the big day, and she had to make sure she was at her best.

Waking up the next morning, Beija started her day as any other—she spent some time meditating and exercising, and she spent some time taking care of and spending time with Janiya before she was dropped off at Ib and Nicole’s home. After that, she was left with the task of primping before the event. She visited the salon first and the beautician added some platinum blonde hair to her shortened locks to create a lengthy ponytail. Afterwards, she went to the spa and proceeded to get a manicure, pedicure, wax, massage and facial. She was going all out for the evening and that much was clear.

When she got back to the apartment, Jermaine was already getting work done on his face by the FX make-up artist; the young man carefully navigated her husband’s face as he tried to recreate the look of the famed Chucky doll. “You’re already looking scary as hell,” She said, and she giggled at the low hum of amusement that escaped Jermaine’s mouth.

“He’s been such a good sport—I’m actually almost finished,” The artist quietly commented as he continued to work on his face. “Soon as I’m finished, I’ll get to work on you.”

“Cool, let me go shower first, though. Have you showered and shit, J?” She asked, and she watched as he briefly nodded. “Okay, cool. Once you’re finished and I get out the shower, I’ll help you get in your shirt without messing up your face,” She said before disappearing into the master bedroom.

Beija took a shower with her usual coconut oil soap before she exited the shower, and then applie some cocoa butter before letting her body air dry. Once she applied some deodorant as well, she retreated to the closet where she hid the La Perla bag filled with goodies she splurged on for herself. Slipping on the Autografo tulle thong, she checked herself in the mirror as she pouted, her ample behind doing all but swallowing the material into her flesh. She chuckled lowly before she grabbed the customized strapless bra, putting it on to give her bust some lift and control. Next, she put on the garter belt she ha bought before she slipped on her stockings and fastening the straps of the garter belt. She grabbed her strapless dress and black boot heels, slipping them on before she looked at the nearly completed look. After sliding on her pearl accessories and lacy arm-length gloves, she gently laughed at the recreated look from Rihanna’s Victoria Secret Fashion Show look. It was probably Beija’s favorite ensemble she had ever seen, and she thought it’d be a perfect outfit to mash with the idea of Chucky’s sadistic bride, Tiffany.

She exited the room and she saw that Jermaine had finished with his costume make-up; he looked frightening yet amazing, and the look on his face when he saw her in her costume was exactly what she wanted. “Well, damn. Alright Tiffanna,” He playfully teased before a smirk tugged at his lips.

“Don’t even say nothing,” Beija laughed softly before she shook her head slowly. “You think you can get dressed without fucking up your face?” She asked as he passed her to go into the bedroom.

“I’ll try,” He said, and she rolled her eyes slowly before she sat down in the chair, allowing the make-up artist to start on her face.

Once the artist was able to get the green-colored contacts into Beija’s eyes, he proceeded to give her a look of a crazed murder, nearly covering the bottom half of her face in ‘blood.’ Once he was finished with his work, Beija paid him for his time and she was left alone in the living room before she entered the bedroom, seeing Jermaine finishing putting on the last of his outfit.

“You look deranged. I love it,” She laughed softly before he glanced up, chuckling a bit at her own make-up.

“Me? You look like you just ate a nigga,” He shook his head as Beija walked over to the vanity to apply some perfume to her pulse points, then she slid her shades over her eyes. “Where are the overnight bags?” He asked.

“Sitting on the couch in the living room,” Beija stood up straight before she smoothed out her dress. “You ready to go?”

“Yep, let’s go.”

Beija followed Jermaine out of the room, glancing over to grab his toy machete on the way out of the room. He’d forget his head if it wasn’t on his shoulders.

The luxury car that was rented for their arrival was waiting downstairs for them, and Beija checked her phone to check the time, just as the event coordinator was calling her. “Hello?”

“Hi, Mrs. Cole—just called to let you know that the doors just opened and we’re allowing guests in. As you asked, we have the photographers here to take photos. You should be able to make your arrival with Mr. Cole at about 9pm,” The woman said.

“Okay. Thank you so much for all your help,” Beija hurried to the car as Jermaine packed their bags in the back of the car.

“No problem! Have fun tonight, and congratulations,” The woman said before hanging up the line.

Jermaine helped Beija into the car, and the driver pulled away from the curb once they were situated in the back. “Do I need to take a short cut or anything?” The driver asked.

“No, take your time. We have an hour time window,” Beija said as she opened her Instagram app.

“You got it,” The driver rolled up the partition between the front and back seat, and Beija turned on her ‘live’ feature, making sure the camera was on her. She watched the number of viewers grow at a slower rate.

“Hi everyone!” She waved at the camera, and smiled a bit as a slew of comments filled the chat, from compliments on her costume to just greeting her. “So, just wanted to wish you guys a great weekend and a great Halloween coming up, but I also wanted to tell you guys about the website that’s launching tonight for the Forever Boy Project,” She explained. “I have created a non-profit sister organization to the Dreamville Foundation, specifically geared to helping the families of victims of police brutality. As you all know, I lost my brother Rashaad to police violence, and Cole and I have been working hard to start this organization up. Tonight is our Fright Night Ball, but more things will be coming soon that you all can participate in,” She nodded before glancing over in Jermaine’s direction. “Anything you want to add?”

“Uh,” Jermaine glanced into the camera, and Beija could see a surge in both viewers and comments about his appearance. “What’s up, y’all? Just wanted to say hey...also, there’s a 10% discount on all Dreamville merch this weekend in celebration of FBP. All money will go to the organization. Show us some love, and please go check out the website—this is a big day for my babygirl, so please support the movement,” Beija couldn’t help but to smile a bit at the enthusiasm in his voice.

“Thank you guys so much for all the support! We have a big surprise for all the fans so just keep an eye out,” Beija paused and caught a comment, and she laughed softly. “No, it won’t be like Black Friday; I won’t let that happen again,” She giggled.

“Oh! Just gonna dog me out,” Jermaine laughed as well before he peeked into the camera. “We’ll see y’all. Peace out.”

“Bye guys!” Beija shut off the video, and she chuckled as she shook her head. “Okay, now I’m officially nervous,” She said.

“Why? You can recite that speech from front to back...from what I can see on Instagram, everybody’s decked out in their costumes. I’m sure the place looks amazing, and you look fuckin’ stunning,” He slid a hand over her exposed thigh and she couldn’t help but to shiver a bit. “Everything’s going to go fine. If Rashaad were here, he’d be proud to see what you’ve accomplished—he is proud. And so am I,” He said, and Beija let out a small sigh as she placed a hand over his own.

“Don’t butter me up,” Beija chuckled before she laced their fingers, nodding as she squeezed his hand. “That does make me feel a lot better. Thank you,” She nodded gently.

The two stayed in a confident silence until the car pulled up to the curb, and she bit her lip as she watched one of the attendant workers approach the car and open the back door. The loud clicks and flashes of camera filled the atmosphere as Jermaine got out first, and he held his hand out to help Beija out of the car.

Beija walked alongside her husband on the orange colored carpet, making sure to pose for the camera to get all of the proper angles that the photographers wanted. She thought it was pretty amusing; she wondered if this is how it felt to be a celebrity on the forefront of the industry. As fun as this part was, she was sure that the work put in to be able to have fun at events or award shows was strenuous on the mind and body alike. She could only imagine how Jermaine felt when he worked on tour or even in the studio.

Once she got to the end of the orange carpet she was met with a set of press interviewers—Ib had briefed her on the fact that she’d be briefly interviewed by the likes of E! News, People Magazine, and other publications. She made sure to keep her answers short, sweet, and graceful. No matter what, her focus was upon her charity and she made sure to keep it that way.

She and Jermaine finally made it inside as the DJ announced their arrival, and the multitude of celebrity guests stood to their feet as they clapped for the ‘guest of honor.’ Beija waved shyly as she looked around, taking a moment to gaze at the elaborate and elegant look of the hall. The horror-themed decorations gave a sense of fantastical dread that kept with the Halloween theme. She was led towards the side stage, and she was passed a microphone along with Jermaine before he took to the stage to introduce her.

She watched as he took to the stage with not even a drop of fear and all she could do was smile as she watched him. “How y’all doing tonight?” He began as he ran a hand over the top of his head. “Y’all look crazy,” He joked, and the laughter that filled the hall. “As crazy as you do look, the reason we’re all here tonight is nothing short of an amazing effort from a thought provoking event that has happened way too much for our liking. There’s so many stories I could tell about the reason why we’re here, but I honestly couldn’t do it justice. So I’m not going to keep you guys long; let’s give a hand to the puppet master of what surrounds you tonight. She’s the founder of the charity we are introducing and representing tonight. Beija Cole,” He introduced, and Beija took a deep breath as she took to the stage.

She looked over the crowd of people as they applauded for her, and she smiled a bit as she took off her shades, allowing herself to see a bit more clearly. “Wow, thank you all for that—thank you for that introduction too,” She nodded towards Jermaine before she turned to face the crowd. “But I’m sure you all know a little bit about me...at least what TMZ will tell you,” She joked, her body relaxing when she heard some of the laughter from the crowd. “But tonight, it’s not even about me. Tonight, it’s about one of the greatest people I ever knew: my brother, Rashaad Demarco.”

“He was born on a foggy November morning in 1988 and for 14 years of his life, he blazed this world with his internal flame. For me, he was my guidance and my sense of clarity, but when provoked he could burn everything around him if he wanted to. He had the voice of an angel—all he ever did was sing Michael Jackson around the house. He made me fall in love with music...that’s all we ever did. We’d sneak into our parents’ record collection and listen to the music and just drift off to a land where our childish problems ceased and we could just be one with the beat. He wanted to be a singer, and he said that I’d be his manager or something like that,” Beija smiled softly to herself at the memories, allowing a long sigh to leave her lips.

“In 2002, that flame was violently extinguished. He was confused for a suspect in our neighborhood and was chased down and murdered by the police. It hurts even more because at that time, my father was an officer for the force,” She could feel the tension in the room as she went into true detail of the death of her brother. “It tore our family apart for a long time, and it is the main source of my severe depression,” She heard some gasps in the room, but she stood strong on the stage. “It was the first real thing I ever told my husband...about why I was the way I was, about my night terrors that I’d have concerning that day. I blamed myself for a long time for his death, then I blamed the system. And that’s why he made the song—my brother will sadly never get to see adulthood. He never got to go to college. He didn’t get to see me walk down the aisle, and he will never know his nieces or nephews. He is forever a child...immortalized in innocence.”

Beija took a quivering breath and blinked away the tears that threatened to fall. “And this is the reason why I started The Forever Boy Project. I’ve seen so many families share the pain my family had to endure, and I feel that it is a gross injustice. I want to move forward and forge a new bond between us as a community and the powers that be. I want to have conversations steeped in positivity, but I want action too. I want people to be held responsible for the families they tear apart. I need them to understand that there are more than too many ‘Forever Boys’ and ‘Forever Girls’ that have been wrongfully stripped of their right to live.”

“I know that the story I told may be tragic, and it is a heavy burden to carry. But tonight, let this be a celebration of something good to come. In front of you, sitting on your plates is a brochure I put together about all that I have planned for this charity. It’s a game plan you can be a part of if you so choose. I also have information, websites and phone numbers you can call. Alongside that is an envelope for you to donate money as well, if you want to. We have a silent auction going on tonight as well, so there’s many ways that we can participate and help other families that are dealing with such tragic times. I thank you all for coming tonight, and please—have a good time! It’s what my brother would want. Thank you,” Beija smiled through the immense lump in her throat as the crowd clapped for her, and she quickly left the stage before passing the microphone to the attendant. Jermaine was waiting for her at the side of the stage, and she took a deep breath as she embraced him.

“You good?” He asked, and she nodded as he kissed her forehead. “I’m proud of you. I know that was hard,” He said, and she repeated her nod as she ran her fingers down his arms.

“It was. But I did it,” Beija quickly dabbed under her eye with her fingertip before one of her tears could escape. She smiled up at J before she slid her shades back on. “But let’s go ahead and relax. The hard part’s over.”

The first part of the event consisted of a five-course meal: House Salad with Italian Dressing, Loaded Baked Potato Chowder, Charbroiled Oysters, Steak and Potatoes with Asparagus, and Red Velvet Cake for dessert. After dinner, the festivities truly began; the bar and dance floor opened for the guests, and Beija began to work the room, making sure to show her face and converse with the guests as they commended her on her charitable effort. As nervous she was to be around such high-profile names, she handled it to the best of her ability. Eventually the night gave way to the music and everyone was indulging in the endless supply of liquor. Beija and Jermaine took on their usual brown liquor, and as the party raged into the wee hours of the morning, the woman found herself more attached to her husband than usual. It usually didn’t take her much to want her man, but with every ounce of liquor that filled her system she found herself wanting nothing more than to get him alone.

The party ended around two in the morning and the couple were the last to leave. The two came out of the hall laughing and chattering as they piled into the back of the car they came in, the driver quietly driving them to their hotel room.

“I honestly didn’t even think anyone could dance like that. Shit was insane,” Jermaine excitedly recounted some of the people watching he had done throughout the night, and Beija was in a fit of giggles as she curled up next to his warm body.

“Aren’t you...so glad, that I don’t dance like that? You’d be so ashamed,” She laughed a bit as he shook his head.

“You were too busy being indecent to dance,” He mumbled as he rested his head against the back of the seat. “And you talk about me being vulgar,” He chuckled.

“I’m not vulgar. I don’t know what you mean,” Beija couldn’t help but to smile a bit at her own lie. “It’s your fault. I was a good girl before you corrupted me.”

“That’s what you think?” The two glanced at each other before Beija burst into laughter. “Exactly. Bullshit. No good girl pulls the shit you tried to pull with me tonight,” Jermaine’s voice deepened a bit as he reached to conceal them from the eyes and ears of the driver up front.

“Hey, I was just poking fun,” B laughed gently before she gently moved her legs into his lap. The slit of her dress revealed the shape of her legs, and she smirked gently at the deep breath that emitted from his body. Her eyes slowly closed as she felt his hand slowly glide up her leg.

“Grabbing on my shit ain’t fun for me. Not when I can’t take care of you right away,” He mumbled before he shook his head. “You’re an animal when the brown hits you.”

“Oh, whatever,” Beija chuckled as she grew comfortable against his body, the feeling of his fingers rubbing against her leg only enticing her more.

Eventually the two reached the hotel they booked for the evening and once they had checked in, they headed up to their suite. After settling in, the two got out of their costumes and washed off their faces. Beija turned the air on once she exited the bathroom, sighing as the cool air hit against her warm skin. She didn’t realize how much she had warmed up due to the alcohol.

“Where’d you get those from?” Beija looked over her shoulder at Jermaine, who was now sitting in the nearby chair as he scrolled through his phone. She glanced down at the bra and panties she was still in.

“These? I had a little extra spending money and I ordered them off La Perla,” She said, and she chuckled softly at the look of confusion on J’s face.

“It looks expensive,” He mumbled before she walked over to him, slowly moving to straddle his lap. She watched as he ran a hand along the material of her thong and she slightly shivered at his feathery contact.

“I wanted to feel cute tonight. And it’s not like I splurge all the time,” She pouted slightly as she watched his skeptical expression—he was able to make his usual animated expressions, even with the lowering of his eyelids from the liquor consumption. “Don’t you like it, daddy?” Her soft voice seemed to make him flunch, and she tried not to smirk at the way his expression softened.

“Here you go. You always hit me with that when you want something or you wanna get your...” He stopped speaking when she leaned in to kiss him, and she could hear the soft groan escape his lips as her lips moved to his neck. “...When you wanna get your way,” He managed to finish his sentence.

“I don’t want anything but you right now,” She confessed, wrapping her arms around his neck before she gazed into his eyes. She inspected his features and couldn’t contain her blissful smile as she gently tugged at his beard, giving him another kiss. “You’re gonna let all this go to waste?” She gestured towards the lacy pieces that clung to her brown skin, and his eyebrows raised as he cracked a smile.

“So that’s what you bought them for...?” He mumbled, and she giggled as he picked her up, slowly moving her towards the window of the suite. “And that’s why you’ve been actin’ up all night. You should have just asked,” He leaned down and placed a smooth kiss upon her lips, and she glanced back at the city below them through the window.

“Windows open, J? Really?” She whispered, and her thighs tightened around his torso when he smirked.

“It’s damn near three in the morning. And who gives a fuck...let’em see,” He leaned into her neck and gently nuzzled her flesh as she felt his hands proceed to peel her scant undergarments off her body. Every instance of his flesh touching hers sent chills down her spine, and she bit her lip as her hands slid into his hair. In the heat of their inebriation, there was no usual foreplay or teasing; he knew she was ready for him and from the way he felt when he inserted her, he was just as ready.

“Wait,” She said, and he halted his movements as he looked down at her. “Slowly,” She instructed, and he nodded as he held her close, his movements becoming more subdued and intricate. Her lips found his again in a warm embrace, and from that moment on his eyes burned into hers as he once again allowed his body to guide her to another place, somewhere so special that even drunken quickies felt like the most special moment of her life.

#j cole fanfic #j cole fanfiction #j. cole fanfic #j. cole fanfiction #j. cole ff

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 7 months

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When i was younger i often mashed together leaves to try and make “paint” so imagine FL seeing reader mashing together a bunch of plants to make natural paints and he copies them, making his own paint and painting alongside reader but his claws are too big to hold a regular paint brush so has to dip his claws into the paint to draw

-sleepy anon

oh oh OH listen what if what IF you and Foul Legacy get to travel around Teyvat in search of materials to make paint :D

you're an artist, yes, but the paints you makes are also in high demand due to the unique and vivid colors they produce, so whenever you're not working on a new piece you're usually making more paints, a very curious Abyss monster peeking over your shoulder. if the paints you're making are made of something edible like berries he absolutely demands a taste, but otherwise just silently observes what you're doing before wandering off. after a few minutes your ears pick up the sound of something crunching- Legacy's making his own paint!! he's trying to use sunsettias, he likes their sunset orange color, and you stand and bring your own supplies to sit beside him, fighting back a smile as you watch him dip his claws in the mixture and gingerly dot some of the color onto your skin in lieu of a canvas

it's not long before you're bringing him along on your trips to other nations for new materials, Legacy eager to explore and adventure and go anywhere, as long as it was with you. it's so wonderful to watch him rush off ahead, letting out delighted chirps and trills when he finds something new, something fascinating- his favorite thing, apart from making paints with you, is bringing you new supplies; seeing you gasp in awe and admire the hue and texture of whatever item he has cradled in his talons- crystals, valberries, nilotpala lotuses, sakura blossoms- all collected so you can make the loveliest paint for your work and for others. when asked how you manage to create such wonderful colors and pigments, you merely tilt your head and smile- "I happen to have the best assistant in Teyvat"

#genshin impact #childe #tartaglia #foul legacy #foul legacy childe #genshin tartagalia #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #i think his strength would be very useful for crushing up any stones or rocks you wanted to use #he could just crunch them up and give them to you with a happy purr #OH my friend got me a narwhal plushie aaaaaaa #i named the plush tartaglia obviously hehehehehehe #also my head does not hurt anymore we love feeling alive!!!#short scenario #other's stuff #sleepy anon #chit chat #good evening

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 7 months

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In my school, whenever a festival is coming up (eg chinese new year) we host a competition amongst our classes to see which class has the best class decorations and my class LOVES using fairy lights because THEY’RE LIKE LITTLE STARS HANGING JUST OUTSIDE OUR CLASSROOM WINDOWS

Now imagine reader decides to decorate their house during festive seasons and one day they decide to hang a few fairy lights around the house and FL absolutely LOVES IT. He’s like WE HAVE STARS IN OUR HOME!! but he can’t speak human language all too well so it just comes out as excited squeaks and chirps, and oh? What’s this? The fairy lights can change colour? FL is now staring at the lights for hours on end, mesmerised by the way the colours change every few seconds. Good luck trying to pull him away now.

(Also after the festival is over, reader starts to take down the fairy lights only to find FL pawing at them, whining as if begging them to put the lights back up)

-sleepy anon (i’m having so many thoughts sorry if i’m spamming)

*vibrates excitedly* oh my moon and stars i love love LOVE fairy lights!! i have some in my room and i NEED MORE

i'm not sure how fairy lights would work in Teyvat since i don't think electrical outlets exist- maybe they're specially carved chunks of glowing ores and stones! one of the street vendors has been selling strings of them in multiple colors and shapes lately in celebration of the upcoming Lantern Rite, and you can't help but buy a few to hang around your own house since you and Foul Legacy just adore things that glitter and shine. your fluffy Abyssal monster chitters with joy when he sees you hanging up the lights, lifting you in his arms so you can reach higher places, and once everything is done and dusts you sit on the floor together to admire the twinkling strings of stars. it's an excellent alternative to being outside in the midst of the fireworks, which are much too loud for both of you- this way you can make your own miniature fireworks in the windows with the different shapes of the lights!

Foul Legacy pleads with you to not take them down once the festive season ends, gently tugging at your sleeve to pull you away from the window with a whine. in the end you do end up taking down a couple of strings, much to his dismay- but it quickly turns to sheer delight when you hang them in his room instead, the stars and moons and flower shapes glittering over his nest of blankets and pillows. when it's dark outside the ceiling becomes his own starry sky, and the best part is that the lights illuminate the room just enough so that he can see the outline of your body when you're sleeping next to him, letting him trace your features with the tip of his claw or pull you closer with a soft purr

he also tried to help you put the lights up one time, but that quickly ended up with the strings tangled around his horns and Legacy trilling and shaking his head in confusion, so he just lifts you up when you need it <3

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 1 year

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Foul Legacy Childe coming across artificial puppet reader who was given life, like Scaramouche, and becoming your traveling companion

that’s it, that’s the post.

#genshin impact #childe #tartaglia #gi ajax #foul legacy #foul legacy childe #genshin tartagalia #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #genshin x reader #childe x reader #i shall elaborate tomorrow when i'm not so sleepy #also sidenote but i got lunch out today and they put some hot sauce in there by accident and my stomach huuuuuuurts #spice is not my forte it causes me pain #anyways i'll elaborate when i'm also not in agony #love you mothlings <333 #wifi's brainrot

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 2 years

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(One minute ago, as of now)

Saw your post about sleepy cuddles with our resident mothman, so take the dredges of fluff my mind has conjured up due to it:

Just waking up to Legacy curled around us, both trying to protect and absorb as much of our body heat as possible. Imagine if our head is near his chest, so we just get to listen to the larger-than-standard heartbeat (or its abyssal counterpart??) as we slowly wake up, contemplating between trying to escape this very-curled spoon for work, or to just stay in bed for a little bit longer.

...I have no idea if this is brain rot or a request, or if this will even read well lmao

*eats this* i am so glad we think alike my dear :D

oh oh oh you wake up so slowly because of how warm and cozy you are, registering first the comfy warmth, then the arms wrapped around your waist, and finally the gradual rise and fall of the chest you're pressed against. Childe's cheek is snuggled into your hair, letting out low, rumbling purrs in his sleep and whenever you move even slightly his grip on you tightens. it's so, so tempting to just lay back down and go to sleep again, but duty calls, so you do your best to pry out the arm that's squished against Foul Legacy's chest without disturbing him... which you ultimately fail at as Childe shifts and yawns, showing his fangs like a cat before blinking drowsily at you

now you have to combat both a very comfy sleeping position and a very clingy Abyssal monster whining for you to stay. Childe's even more difficult to convince than usual, even if you explain over and over again that you need to do work, because he knows very well that you've been tired and stressed lately!! that's not good for you!! you need sleep!! and if not sleep, some relaxation at least, and what better way to relax than cuddling with him? plus it's cold outside- who'd want to go out there?? you're about to protest again when Childe huffs and places his hand on your chest, pushing you back down onto the bed and scooping you into his arms. the way he's piled up blankets around and on top of you both is almost like a nest, and he certainly looks happy as he goes back to curling around your body until your face is smushed into his fluff

with a sigh, you run your fingers over the ridges in his cheeks, and he purrs in delight. this isn't so bad

#genshin impact #childe #tartaglia #foul legacy #foul legacy childe #genshin tartagalia #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #chit chat #you are fast and i love you for it comrade /p #also another version of waking up with Foul Legacy: you waking up early in the morning to go to work #and leaving a kiss on his forehead. he wakes up just barely to see you ruffle his hair and go because it's so early #sleepy Foul Legacy leaning his face into your hands..... craving your touch..........#Childe going to bed as himself and waking up as Foul Legacy because he wants to spend soft time with you #i am having so many drowsy moth thoughts today #short scenario #other's stuff #FAVE

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 2 years

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aaaaahh sorry i am very very sleepy tonight and have no energy so please send Foul Legacy stuff for me to read when i return tomorrow <33

before i go here's a reminder to hug your local Childe today!!! moth gets lonely while you're away and desires nothing more than your presence and affections <333 ok goodnight am going to sleep now love you all <333 /p

#genshin impact #childe #tartaglia #gi ajax #foul legacy #foul legacy childe #genshin tartagalia #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #ehee i got to spend time with a friend today #was fun but hoo boy am i drained #need moth brainrot to get my energy back up!!!!#anything is good please just send stuff for me to consume <333 #seems when i am sleepy my moth loving goes up by 2000%#ok sleepytime goodnight <333 #wifi demands talk

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 8 months

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Ooh I have an interesting question for you.

What are the subtle differences between Legacy and Childe? Like, besides the whole abyssal mothman transformation thing lmao. Things that only someone really close to them would notice.

No, no, lemme cook. It could be a difference in body language, it could be a hyper-specific mannerism, it could be a certain preference that contradicts the other side of him – or it could be something else entirely. A preferred manner of nonverbal communication. An emotional attachment to a specific thing. A memory the other side does not recall. A difference in their physical touch, or a different response to affection. Different fears.

Pls idek, I hope you can understand what I mean :')

I'd imagine Legacy relies heavily on instincts, rather than either emotion or logic, but that's as far as I can think, sleepless as I am. Thought you might like the lil prompt? Sort of?

Can this be considered a request?? Hmm... Whatever feels better for you I guess <33

Alr, that's all I think. Love you :DD

oh anon, i adore this. thank you so much

A Study of Mortal and Abyssal Nature

Foul Legacy x Reader Pronouns: Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Genre: Fluff, Comfort Warnings: Allusions to fighting and blood, mentions of the ocean

~ * ~ Childe stands tall, back straight with a hand casually on his hip, the epitome of confidence. If there’s a breeze his scarf begins to sway gently; a perfectly picturesque vision both strong and intimidating, as a Harbinger should be. Foul Legacy crouches, doing his best to seem unthreatening and gentle to the people he likes. He hunches in on himself, wanting to embrace, to listen, to comfort- but only for those he favors. Threats are met with snarls and bared fangs, claws sharp as razors and battle prowess honed to a deadly edge.

Childe has a wonderful, boisterous laugh that carries across the room and draws everyone’s eyes towards him. It’s loud and carefree, often done with his eyes closed and body doubled over as he fights to compose himself before finally looking up at you, breathless and grinning with delight. Foul Legacy chitters quietly, like a stream of soft, happy giggles. It’s almost always either from something you said or your reaction to his teasing, a glint of mischief in his crystalline eye, and he laughs until you’re laughing alongside him, before gently nudging his head under your chin with a lighthearted huff.

Childe walks down the streets with you easily, always touching you somehow- an arm around your shoulders, a hand on your waist, his fingers laced with yours. He cheerfully invades your personal space, bumping against you playfully and peppering kisses over your cheeks until you can’t help but push him away with a laugh, but he’ll stop instantly if you seem the slightest bit uncomfortable. Foul Legacy lingers close to you, nearby but not touching until you give him explicit permission, and even then his talons barely graze your skin. He gently bumps his forehead against yours instead, asking for you to scritch behind his horns and leaning into your touch. His head ends up in your lap more often than not, always making sure his kneading claws aren’t tearing your legs before inevitably falling asleep.

Childe loves the snow and all that it represents for him- his loyalty, his home, his strength. He stands firmly in the icy landscape, wrapped in a coat of furs and weaponry and love as he tells you to wait for him, wait for him in the warmth as he ventures into the cold, because he’ll always return just for you. Foul Legacy prefers warmth, having been surrounded by the chill of the Abyss for his whole life. His favorite moments are spent by a gentle fire, holding you close as you both sip hot drinks, and at night he makes sure to tightly curl around you. During the summer he basks in the sun, napping under the bright rays like a cat, only waking up with a sleepy rumble when you carefully shake him.

Childe prefers to hold you, shielding you from the outside world. As someone who was forced to grow up too soon, too quickly, Childe has seen darkness and despair firsthand, and wants nothing more than to protect you from everything cruel. He knows he can’t do it forever, that you’re plenty strong, but he can damn well try. Foul Legacy likes being held, having been deprived of kind touch in the Abyss. Being a native beast from the depths of the world, he was used to a solitary existence, but now he’s fallen in love with your hugs and kisses, burying himself in your arms when he’s feeling particularly lonely. There’s something so comforting about being able to curl against you, feeling you do your utmost to hug him even though he’s so much larger than you, his head against your shoulder and nuzzling against the crook of your neck.

Childe remembers bumping into you on the street, your apology quick and lighthearted. He had been wearing his Harbinger uniform, yet you still talked to him like he was an old friend, and Childe could feel his heart melting at that very instant. The next day he had walked that same path, and the next, and the next, until he finally came across you again with an eager shout. Foul Legacy remembers the first time Childe showed him to you, the way your eyes went wide with amazement. There had been a pause as Legacy crouched down to tentatively sniff you before letting out a delighted chirp- he recognized your scent, your voice, your appearance, from your time with Childe, watching from the back of the Harbinger’s mind. Now you were here, in front of him, and Legacy had quickly nudged his head against your outstretched hand with a purr.

Childe sings music from his home nation- popular songs, old ballads, lullabies his mother had sung for him. His accent comes through when he does, sheepishly laughing when you point it out, but he knows you love it so. He teaches you some of his and learns some of yours, mixing them together into something wholly unique. Foul Legacy’s songs are hauntingly beautiful, like an echoing whale’s call from deep beneath the sea. They’re all wordless tunes, composed entirely of notes and melodies, and he seems utterly overjoyed when you try to mimic them. One day he’ll tell you that his songs are reserved for you alone, the one he loves, but for now he’ll listen to you hum and hum back in return.

Childe tugs on your sleeve when he wants to get your attention, plopping his chin onto your shoulder as his arms wrap around you from behind. When you turn, you can see a silent pout on his lips, clearly telling you that he’s in need of some attention before he becomes restless. Foul Legacy approaches you directly, leaning down and bumping his head against your collarbone before looking at you imploringly. You’ll cup his face, swiping your thumbs over the plated cheeks, and a slow, soft purr rises from Legacy’s chest as he relaxes.

Childe fears the dark. Foul Legacy fears silence.

Childe fights to win. Foul Legacy fights to survive.

Both of them have nightmares. Both of them forcefully temper their hunger for blood with sparring. Both of them bristle at the slightest threat to the ones they care about. Both of them dread the day they’ll have to return to a kingdom of dead stars and corpses.

Both of them watch whatever you’re doing with a mushy, adoring look in their eyes, not saying a word. Both of them pick you up and spin you around in greeting after a long day’s work. Both of them sweep you into surprise dances, holding your hands like you’re a precious treasure. Both of them fall asleep leaning against you, waking up with a fluffy mess of ginger hair and a gentle, dreamy smile.

Both of them love you, unconditionally, now and forever.

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