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gingerylangylang1979 · 2 years

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Any recommendations for Soft Romantic stories (books or movies) featuring Black Women?

I hope I don’t offend anyone and this is not meant to be a rant against all white women or anything. I also don’t expect every creator to create specifically for me, how can they if they don’t all get my experience? I’m just tired, y’all.

I recently finished the Normal People limited series. I liked it at first but towards the middle I was really unimpressed and the end left me cold. No, I will not read the book. I think the thing that struck me most is how much I just don’t want to engage in any more romantic story lines that involve privileged white ingenues. I just can’t for the love of humanity watch a self absorbed girl rocking the nonchalant French girl aesthetic and strain to find her relatable. I live in Brooklyn. I know these girls. I just can’t relate. But they are not someone who’s inner life I need to get to know better. Maybe this is why I had no desire to ever watch Girls. I have a few white girl friends, they are not like these girls, like. at. all. I also recently watched The Boy Downstairs and The Worst Person in the World. See a theme here? Basically, I have Hulu and was struggling with finding modern romance to watch, thus this losing streak of irritating protagonists. I think Rory Gilmore is perhaps the archetype of this girl? I didn’t make it through the first season of that show. I just didn’t get the hype.

Anyways, this got me thinking that I really, really, really would love to have some GOOD romantic entertainment that features someone that looks like me. But what I don’t want is a soap opera or a typical romance novel formula. ( I can get down with a good telenovela style epic drama, but I want a different flavor here). I think the appeal of genre of films I mentioned is that they try to go deeper, they try to be smarter, nuanced, layered. I get the draw. It’s just none of these characters are that interesting to me and people seem to fall at their feet for no discernible reason. But I want the fluff, the softness, the allusions to great literature and art, the camisoles worn ever so gracefully, travel, and promise. I just don’t want the sense that no matter what these girls are going to be ok and land on their feet. Maybe they have some trauma, but honestly I have trauma, too and I still have to be a Black woman that is still struggling to be valued in relationships, in the work place, in society at large. So no, one shitty parent and sibling is not the totality of my lived experience and the extent of my angst. There is a whole lot of other shit going on. I don’t have a trust fund to fall back on that can also finance all the self care, elite higher education, and travel I desire. I also still live with roommates. See what I’m saying? If you get it, you get it, if you don’t, you don’t.

I’ve been writing a fanfic based on Carmy and Sydney from The Bear. It is so fluffy, but also deep, sensual, witty (at least I think so). Sydney is coming into her full womanhood, defining her career, loving a man who is wounded, and guess what, she’s broke ass fuck but still looks cute and has fun. I need that, but someone else to write it so I can enjoy. Props to all the other fanfic writers! Can we get something like this published or on the screen? FYI, I do not care if the romantic interest is Black, white, Asian, whatever. It does not matter to me. I want intelligent writing and a protagonist who is not aloof, who is vulnerable, delicate, actually works a challenging job, and inspires adoration not just because, but because she is seen. I swear if I have to sit through one more scene of a boring white girl in a perfect messy bun take a half bite of a pastry in slow motion I’m going to scream. Or watch a racially ambiguous girl get fawned over because of course she would because she’s slightly exotic and safe. AKA, she cannot be light skinned or mixed for the love of God!

Side note: I do recommend Good Luck to You Leo Grande (the ending was a bit meh, but the rest excellent and my goodness Emma Thompson always makes me cry) and Enough Said (who knew James Gandolfini was a great romantic lead). Maybe middle aged and older white women are better viewing than millennials and Gen Z?

Anyways, who has recs for my rant?

Edit: I think I found the vibe of what I’m looking for. Imagine all of the love songs from The Sea and the self titled albums from Corinne Bailey Rae. That’s it.

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barrowsteeth · 2 years

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Daryl McCormack - Hollywood Reporter Next Gen Talent 2022

#daryl mccormack #hollywood reporter #next gen talent 2022 #rising young stars 2022 #gods he is gloriously attractive #good luck to you leo grande #was incredibly good #i hope he comes back for s2 of bad sisters #queue? don't mind if i do

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notsosilentsister · 1 year

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Good Luck to You, Leo Grande

The actors are exceedlingly charming, the script has a lot of wit, there are some lovely touches. I loved the scene where the heroine apologizes to the former student she slut-shamed and I love how she finally accomplishes the goal she didn't even dare to put on her to-do-list, on her own. It's supposed to be a film about pleasure, about liberation, about empowerment, about aging, about self-discovery, and as such, it works really well.

But for me, this is also a film about having a job that requires building relationships, and about the importance of good boundaries in professional relationships. And here, I think, is where it kinda drops the ball.

More precisily, I think, the movie has a lot to say about teaching. We see that Leo is a god teacher, exceptional really, and our heroine maybe hasn't been. The main quality you need to bring to the job, for me, is respect, a lack of judgment - someone willing to learn something new always makes themselves vulnerable; is going to make mistakes, is going to be frustrated, disappointed, easily discouraged. Needs to be reassured, needs to be able to trust, needs to be met with grace. Leo's got that.

The heroine, as far as we get to see, not so much. She can talk about people with such casual contempt. Maybe that's just her style, her brand of wit - it is, after all, most often directed towards herself. Maybe it's supposed to be part of the liberation, refreshing honesty. She needs to call her son boring and her daughter a fuck-up to free herself of the shackles of motherhood. Fine. But part of it is that this character is your typical middle class snob. So when the waitress in the café where she meets up with Leo for the last time reveals herself as a former student, she says "Well I can't have taught you much, if this is where you ended up". And she's not even trying to insult her. She's the type who'd be shocked if you took offense. "Oh no, no, don't you see, it's a diss on myself!".

I do actually like that part - the heroine is revealed, gradually - a beautiful woman, a sensuous woman, a powerful woman. But a mediocre mother, a mediocre teacher. That can also be a good story for a heroine. It's not always about how well you serve others. And the heroine does learn. She learns to appreciate the value of sex work. She does apologize to the waitress. Maybe her contempt for others sprung from her contempt for herself, and she can only free herself of the former as she frees herself of the latter, or vice versa. That's a point worth making.

But it could be made a bit better, I think, if the heroine had to take some more accountability. Because she's horribly out of line, not just with the waitress, also with Leo, and he forgives her too readily. My friend, who I saw the movie with, thinks he should have never agreed to that last appointment. She gasped in horror, when the heroine confessed to the stalking and was fully on board with Leo's outrage. She was also very upset, when Leo eventually opened up about his mother. "Why does he tell her? He shouldn't need to tell her! She has no right to ask!"

I get why the characters does it. She's told him a lot of personal stuff, she's had a life-changing experience with him - and now she wants to feel like she can make some difference for him too, she longs for resonance, reciprocity. But we already this wonderful scene where he describes, downright lyrically, what he gets out of this job, this feeling of having a meaningful impact on others, resonance, reciprocity. There's a quiet tragedy in how she can't be satisfied with that. (And she wouldn't be the first to fail this way, it's an old story for a reason, it should be a modern version of Lohengrin - if magic enters your life, acept it with grace; don't kill the vibe by asking for a name).

But sadly, this version doesn't go for the Lohengrin-ending. To the last moment, the heroine is not quite made to understand how upsetting it must be when a client starts to cross explicit boundaries. Point is, not wanting a client to know your real name is a very basic, reasonable boundary, even if there's no traumatic backstory of maternal abandonment. It's not about shame over your profession, it's about good professional boundaries and a completely legit need for privacy. I guess I have a bit more compassion for the client's delusions than my friend, but I hate how the narrative seems to vindicate her, by revealing that Leo has indeed a traumatic history, that part of his emotional outburst was triggered by this trauma, that her making him face that actually helps him overcome his shame and reconnect with his brother. I wanted to see a final scene where he comes home to his loving mother who cooks him spaghetti or something, and we can conclude that is was all just a story to get this over-involved client off his back. In my mind, that's the ending anyway; Moma's home-cooked spaghetti are waiting as the credits roll.

#good luck to you leo grande #emma thompson #daryl mccormack #review #personal #journal

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stray-kaz · 2 years

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Three Day Hire : a Leo Grande x reader FF : five

18 and up, y’all.

On the morning of your brother’s wedding, you woke up half on top of Leo, your head on his chest and one leg thrown across his hips. He stirred underneath you and lifted one hand to the back of your head, stroking your hair.

“Mornin’, baby” he murmured, pushing himself up to kiss your forehead. “How’d you sleep?”

You mumbled incoherently and nuzzled into his chest, keeping your eyes closed. He laughed and pulled you up fully on top of him, settling you over his half hard morning arousal. You forced your eyes open and glowered sleepily down at him.

“You tryin’ to kill me, Grande?” you muttered, tired hormones rushing in.

He bit his lip as you started to slowly rock on him, your movements unhurried and languid.

“Can I touch you this time?” he asked, his voice thick and low from sleep.

You nodded and he settled his hands on your hips, brushing up under the material of your sleep shirt, his thumbs smoothing over the front of your underwear.

You were dying to tell him that you were certain he had ruined you for any other man, but you didn’t want to erase the pleasure in his eyes or the slightly slack jawed way he was looking up at you as his hands pressed heavily into your warm skin, the flesh beneath pliant to his touch. So you just leaned into him, working your hips much slower than you had the night before, feeling the ache build as you pressed your hands down against his chest.

“You know something?” Leo panted, his gaze travelling down the length of your body to the space between your legs he was straining towards.

“What?” you asked, tingles spreading out through your lower body.

“I wanted to take you last night, in the back of the car. I would’ve done anything. I would do...anything for you.”

You stared down at him and worry began to cloud his eyes; he wondered if he had taken it too far, had said too much, said the wrong thing. But then you closed the gap between you and banished the fear from his mind, his eyes closing as you whimpered into his mouth, fingers flexing on his chest.

I want you, I want you, I want you.

You hadn’t realised you’d said the words out loud until Leo groaned and his grip on your hips became bruising, but you didn’t care. You could feel the burning heat inside you coalescing into warm dampness between your thighs, forming a damp patch in your underwear. Glancing down, you saw there was a matching one on Leo’s. You leaned down to reach his mouth again.

“Please” you whispered, desperation lacing the single word. “Can I?”

“Yeah” he breathed. “Please.”

You didn’t need telling twice. You ripped the sleep shirt over your head and toppled sideways onto your back to shimmy out of your underwear, Leo’s eyes fixed on you, on your bare breasts and then on the curls at the apex of your thighs, a stark contrast to the rest of your smooth skin. Then his gaze snapped to your face, to the driving want in your eyes, as you knelt up and dragged his underwear down his legs and off over his feet.

He reached for you as you eased into position, feeling the tip of him just barely nudge against your entrance. He smoothed his fingertips over your stomach and flattened his palms against the gentle curve, pressing you back slightly.

“Do you need anything?” he asked, suddenly anxious. “Should I -”

You cut him off, your whole body trembling with barely repressed desire.

“Your c*ck. Now.”

Leo’s eyes rolled back in his head and he groaned, strong hands shaking on your hips, as you sank down onto him in one smooth move. Your lips parted at the sweet intrusion and you automatically clenched around him, pulling a stuttered sound from the back of his throat. You leaned back a little so you could see what was happening, but then Leo dragged you down onto his chest, thrusting sharply up, his arms cradling you against his body. You moaned, pressing your face into his neck.

You had already known that he was well endowed, but now you were truly feeling every inch of just how much, and you shuddered with pleasure, sensation licking through you.

Leo felt you rock and quake, electric heat pouring along his limbs, melding him to you until he hardly knew where he ended and you began.

Outside your bedroom door, Millie stood in the hallway, uncertain. She had come with the intention of dragging you out of bed to help with her hair and nails for the wedding, but now... Now she could hear telltale moans and gasps, and the faint impacts of body on body. She hesitated for one more moment, then turned and slowly walked away, disappointed, the sounds of yours and Leo’s mixed pleasure echoing in her ears.

You were not chasing anything except mutual enjoyment, your movements slowing over Leo so you could feel every drag of him inside you, breathy pants falling from your lips onto his skin, your eyes closing as you rubbed your nose over his collarbone. You kissed love into his skin.

Leo felt it, felt the whispered promises you breathed onto him, tried not to hear them as badly as he wanted to. He was yours for the weekend, but he’d be someone else’s next weekend. But now, oh now, he was all yours, settled deep as he’d ever been but wanting to be even closer, even deeper, lost in your very bones.

You closed around him again and felt him swell and twitch, heard the shaky gasp escape his mouth as he tried to hold back, tried to keep going, for you.

You pulled back a bit, just enough so you could see his face, his eyes startlingly green in the morning light that filtered through the gap in the curtains. You kissed the corner of his mouth and he chased your lips, his tongue flicking out.

“It’s okay, Leo” you said softly, kissing him back again. “You can let go. Don’t wait for me.”

He shook his head, jaw set dangerously tight, his eyes focused on your face as the continued pleasure was written all over you. You leaned down to his ear and felt him tense beneath you, anticipating your next words.

“Be selfish for once” you whispered.

A wild moan tore free from deep in his chest, his eyes slightly panicked, as he spilled into you, hot and fast, and you smiled at him, kissing a soft line from his earlobe to the corner of his left eye. He panted heavily, his hands now stroking gently, shakily, up and down your spine.

“I think I was selfish last night, too” he whispered, still catching his breath.

You shook your head, your forehead brushing his, sweat gleaming on his caramel skin.

“No” you said. “You weren’t. I took and then gave back. That wasn’t you being selfish, Leo.”

He paused before nodding, and you slowly eased off him, flopping onto your back. Your hand found his and squeezed, threading your fingers together.

“What time is the wedding?” he asked quietly, turning his head to look at you.

“Three. Reception to follow, and dancing, of course.”

You eyed him, lips quirked.

“But not dirty dancing” you murmured.

Leo smiled lazily at you.

“We’ll see about that, baby.”

Dressing for the actual wedding was a separate affair. Leo changed clothes in your bedroom, while you dressed with Abigail and the other women in a separate wing of the house. Looking out the windows, you could see the set up finishing outside, the beautiful wedding arch wrapped with flowers of all kinds. The seats were lined up in uniform rows, black and white in order, as instructed.

You smoothed down the front of your cocktail dress, strapless and dark silver, shimmering in the afternoon light and almost shocking against your skin. You couldn’t help wondering what Leo would be wearing.

The sound of your name being called dragged you back to the present, and you turned your head to see Abigail smiling fondly at you.

“Thinking about your man?” she asked.

You flushed and nodded.

“You’ll see him soon. I’m ready, is everyone else?” Abigail asked the room.

A chorus of yeses came in response and she gestured for you to head out.

“The bride is allowed to be late” she told you, and winked. “The guests aren’t.”

You gave her a grateful grin and hastened out as quickly as your heels would allow.

Leo was waiting by the front door, rocking back and forth anxiously on his heels, but he stopped when he saw you, his eyes widening. His gaze trailed down you, pausing briefly on the subtle swell of your breasts underneath the dress, before continuing on over your hips and down your legs to the sparkling shoes giving you extra height. He held out his hand and you grasped it, drinking in the sight before you.

He wore a tailored black coat, black dress trousers, shined loafers and the snowiest white shirt you had ever seen, topped with a perfectly straight black bow tie.

“Wow, 007″ you murmured, running your free hand lightly down his shirtfront. “You clean up nicely.”

He scoffed and squeezed your hand.

“So do you” he replied, leaning in to kiss your temple. “You look amazing.”

You reached up to straighten your necklace, pulling it free so it swung against your dress instead of underneath it, and his gaze lowered once more to your cleavage. You smile and stretched up to kiss his cheek, letting your lips linger longer than was necessary as Millie sauntered past, enough spray in her hair to set the grass on fire. Leo coughed exaggeratedly and you bit back a laugh, covering your mouth with your free hand as Millie’s shoulders stiffened but she kept walking.

You smacked Leo’s chest lightly, but in return, he gently gripped the back of your neck and kissed you, setting you alight as the tip of his tongue touched yours. He released your neck, kissed you more chastely, then helped you down the stairs and over to the seating arrangement at the back of the house.

His hand was warm in yours and the thought did cross your mind, unbidden, that you might very well like to hold his hand for the rest of your days, but you pushed it away and squeezed his hand instead, grounding yourself to the reality of him.

You sat with your family on the groom’s side of the aisle, and when Abigail glided down to stand with your brother, you watched their faces while Leo watched yours, the rapture you felt being at a wedding evident in your eyes and smile. It almost matched the emotion in your eyes when he was buried inside you that morning. Almost.

The wedding went off without a hitch and as day wore on into evening, hired floating lanterns were lit up, bathing the dance floor and the guest tables in a warm summery glow. You were sitting sideways on Leo’s lap as you finished your slice of wedding cake. You put the plate and fork down on the pristine tablecloth and he smirked at you slightly, eyebrows raised.

“What?” you asked. “Do I have icing on my face?”

He nodded and you sighed, reaching for a napkin, but he gently grabbed your wrist and set your hand back in your lap. He lifted his own hand and slowly dragged his thumb along your lower lip to the corner of your mouth, then pulled it away and sucked clean the chocolate icing from the tip. He glanced at you, saw the pure want darkening your eyes, and grinned.

“You want to dance with me?” he asked cheekily.

“Sure, if it’s the horizontal tango” you retorted, and he laughed loudly.

“Come on, baby” he said. “We can do that later. For now, slow dance with me.”

You nodded and slid off his lap, tugging your dress back into place. He walked behind you, one hand on your hip, the other carefully adjusting the front of his trousers.

You felt many eyes on you both as you gave Leo your right hand and placed your left carefully on his right shoulder as his right hand came to rest on the curve of your waist and he started to move with you, guiding you into old familiar steps rehearsed as a child. Muscle memory was a wonderful thing, you thought, as you followed his lead, eyes locked with his.

His chest and stomach pressed against yours, his thighs strong on yours as they helped push you in the right direction, warmth flowing from his body into yours.

You glanced around at your audience and laughed quietly.

“I don’t think they were expecting us to actually be able to do this” you murmured to Leo, smiling.

“You think they were expecting us to just stand and sway in a circle?”

He smiled down at you and stopped waltzing, instead beginning to just turn you slowly in a circle. Looking into his blazing eyes, your smile faded and you slowly freed your right hand and linked your fingers together behind his neck, and Leo wrapped both arms around you, holding you closer.

You couldn’t bear to look away from him, suddenly all too aware that tomorrow you would be flying home and you would likely never see him again. Completely unbidden, tears welled in your eyes and spilled over onto your cheeks, surprising both of you. Leo let go of you and used his thumbs to wipe away the tears, trying not to smear your makeup.

“What is it?” he asked quietly, tuning out the others all paying too much attention to you. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, unwilling to get into the real reason for crying right here in the middle of the dance floor at your brother’s wedding.

“Can we go back inside?” you asked him, chewing on your bottom lip. “Please? Can I have you again? I’m already missing you, Leo, and I hate the feeling.”

A quiet sigh escaped him and he nodded, shadows in his eyes.

“Okay” he murmured. “That’s fine with me. But are you sure? Crying usually isn’t a good sign, baby.”

In answer, you grabbed his hand and started to tug him back in the direction of the big house, the light from the floating lanterns eventually dwindling to nothing, leaving you alone together in the darkness.

Tagging: @fineanddandy @slippinginto-theairwaves

#leo grande #leo grande x reader #Good Luck to You Leo Grande #liss writes

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