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rose-tinted-juls · 1 year ago

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SCREAMING. honestly screaming. i can't get over this. brb gotta read it again and again and again.

1. first of all. THEY HAD THE CONVERSATION. and agreed on a date OMFG i'm dying

2. "...you know that there is a spring in a national park in the States that looks just like his eyes, all blues and greens and browns that are so saturated they look fake." WHY IS IT SO GORGEOUS. reading your favourite book by candlelight and over a cup of coffee gorgeous. i bow to you and your talent, mack.

3. "because you see the color red and wonder what he's doing, every single time." this deserved a mention of its own even if it's in the same paragraph. bc first of all i also think about charles literally whenever i see the colour red but also bc it's such a perfectly phrased sentence that i can't.

4. "your lips purse. somewhere in another world, they smile." + "...you kiss him again, hand on shoulders, because you want to smile." SCREAMING. THROWING MY PHONE ACROSS THE ROOM. smile girl, not just in another world but here too please.

5. "you wonder if you can get him flustered enough that he starts to type what he says." honestly how can you write something so real? like come on, this is just so relatable (i almost sent a message after typing like this oops) and makes this whole reading experience feel just that much more like i'm not reading but actually living through this.

6. playing rock paper scissors and also charles demanding best of three when forgetting the shampoo is just perfect as it is. AHHHH. i'm gonna cry your writing skills are over the rooftop high

7. when he only has a towel around his waist and the other on his neck and his hair is damp and all over the place (OMG) and there's the line "there's something horribly beautiful about it" and it just makes me faint. he is indeed horribly beautiful. always.

8. well. and of course the final scene. *chefs kiss* feeling so many things rn. i can't even comprehend or try to explain them.

thank you, mack. just as always, you created a masterpiece that turns the world around and makes it much better. love you loads.

—the seasons of love

or: the enemies to lovers situationship fic charles leclerc x female reader summ. autumn seemed to arrive suddenly this year. minors dni. nsfw warnings below the cut. 6k. part one part two part three part four part five

18+ because: cross continent booty call, shared shower, oral (fem receiving) overstimulation, biting, begging, teasing/dirty talk and lots of emotionally immature angst

It became normal after that, routine, almost. Like clockwork, the two of you finding each other. In your apartment, sometimes, but mostly at his. His apartment, his yacht, his gym, his car. There were days where it felt like it was all you did, Fridays where you would think that you’d spent five whole days underneath him.

Race weekends felt impossibly long, impossibly far away. You think that his apartment doesn’t feel like him because he’s never there, because he spends all his time on a track or a yacht or the streets of Maranello.

And you’re soft. You pretend not to be, because you wish you weren’t, but you are. You are, because you know that there is a spring in a national park in the States that looks just like his eyes, all blues and greens and browns that are so saturated they look fake. Because when you were at the club last week with your sister, someone had walked by and you knew they wore the same cologne as him. Because you see the color red and wonder what he’s doing, every single time.

He’s in Vegas this week, a big fucking party, Miami on the hard stuff. You’re home, going through life’s motions and waiting–though you’d never admit it– for him to come home.

You wake up in an empty bed, sprawled out in the middle of it, stretching against the white sheets with a groaned yawn. You can taste the cottonmouth on your tongue, smack your lips a couple times before giving up and climbing out from the cozy comforter and trudging into the bathroom, feet creaking over the hardwoods as you move through the apartment.

You phone chimes from your nightstand and you move back into the bedroom, leave the water running and the toothbrush in your mouth for your retrieval mission. Sitting at the top of a night’s worth of notifications is a text from him. Check your email. You roll your eyes, half-type out a witty response before an email notification flashes across the top of your screen. [email protected] No Subject.

You tap it, and inside the subjectless email you find two things. One, an attachment to a plane ticket to Vegas that leaves in… five hours. And two, a single Please?

You roll your eyes, toss your phone down onto the bed and return to the bathroom sink to spit out your toothpaste. He’s fucking lost it. He’s really done it this time, like, Jesus, he’s done it.

There is nothing you want to do less than pack a bag, find a ride to Nice, and hop on a plane all the way to Vegas just to see him in some messy ass hotel room.

(Sixteen hours later)

You’re sitting on the edge of the hotel bed when he gets back from media day, Ferrari polo and light wash jeans and a dumb smile greets you, grumpy with arms crossed over your chest. “Did you have to send me a fucking plane ticket?” You snapped.

He shrugs, kicks off his shoes and pulls his phone and wallet and pass from his pockets, sets them down on a coffee table. “You’re here, aren’t you?” There’s something masked with the smug tone in his voice, some kind of genuine relief that you’re here. It makes your stomach queasy.

You roll your eyes. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t deny the truth in his words, or the relief you felt at seeing him walk through the heavy door. As sick as it makes you, you miss him when he’s gone in a way you aren’t supposed to; all soft and innocent and young.

“You’re infuriating,” you say, but you’re smiling.

He nods, closes the distance between you, sinks down onto the edge of the bed beside you. “You know you love it,” he says, the corners of his lips upturned when he kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you. Until you’re turning purple in search of oxygen and mourning the fact that you need it, you’re kissing him.

“Why am I here?” you ask, half breathless.

“Are you asking me?” He replies, dodging your line of questioning with one of his own.

You smile, laugh a little under your breath. “Who else am I asking?”

“Yourself,” he shrugs, kisses you softly. His fingers dance along your jaw, move to brush a part of your hair to the side. You let him. Because he’s kind of cute when he does it.

“No, no,” you sigh, pull your leg up under you. “I’m asking you; Are you okay? Why am I here?” You ask, because, even for the two of you and your decades of knowing the other and the last… almost year of this muddled mess, this is weird. A first class ticket in your email is weird. You getting on the plane is weirder.

“I can’t miss you?”

Your lips purse. Somewhere in another world, they smile. “Not supposed to,” you kiss him again, hand on shoulders, because you want to smile.

“There’s a lot we’re not supposed to do.”

“Yeah,” you nod, fall back onto the bed with a huff. He chuckles. The white ceiling paint stares back at you. Fresh. Crisp. Clean. “No meetings today?”

“They’re done.”

“Ah,” you say. He stands up and the entire bed shifts with the loss of him. His heavy feet move across the echoey room. It’s silent but for the hum of the air conditioner, the tap of the pads of his fingertips against his phone screen on the other side of the room. “Charles?” You ask, prop yourself up onto your elbows.

“Hmm?” He hums, his eyes focused on his screen. “Sorry, um. Work… email.” You don’t envy his multitasking skills, but they do put a smile on your face.

“Did you fly me out here to fuck me?”

He scoffs, looks up for just a moment to meet your eyes. “No,” and then he’s back to typing away.

You sigh, make sure he hears it. You don’t handle not having his attention well, not when it’s just the two of you. “But you’re going to, right?”

You wonder if you can get him flustered enough that he starts to type what he says. He’s been good at wrangling you recently, at reeling you in. But, if you can get under his skin you’ll surely be in trouble with him. Surely. He smiles at the screen. “If you think you can take it.”

When you scoff, his smile grows. You’re playing right into his game. “I’ve taken it every other fucking time, haven’t I?”

“So well.”

You roll your eyes, drop back onto your back. “Why do you say shit like that?”

“I like riling you up,” he quips, and you can hear the smile on his face, the dimples digging into his cheek. God, those dimples, they might just fucking kill you.

“No!” You say, voice drenched in sarcastic awe.

“Yes!” He matches your tone, his phone clattering down against the table. You sit up again, pull your leg to your chest and rest your chin on it. His eyes are on you now, the email answered, his attention undivided. You love his attention.

“Alright… can we, like,” you gesture into the vast space between the two of you, “get on with it?”

“Can you, like,” he mocks you, “let me fucking shower?”

You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth, bite the inside of your cheek, “Can I come?”

“Yeah, but I’m not going to fuck you.”

“Really?” You hate your tone, how childishly innocent it sounds, like your mother just said you could buy whatever toy you wanted at the store. You’d expected a hard shutdown.

“Yeah,” he moves past you, casual smile and strong hand pushing your shoulder, knocking you over like a glass of water onto the bed. “But, I mean it,” he warns, threatens to wag a finger at you. You’d bite it off if he did.

“Okay,” you say, rolling yourself off the bed and onto your feet, trailing behind him a few steps. He’s already tugging his shirt over his head and you watch his shoulder blades flex with the movement. You never remember just how broad he is. It’s always a lovely reminder.

“I’m serious,” he shakes his head. “No sex.”

You hurry forward to catch up to him, pat him solidly on the back as you squeeze between him and the door frame. “Whatever you say,” you hum. His hands make a move for your sides, to pinch the skin there and curl you over, but you dodge him with a loud giggle.

He says your name and his tone is flat. It’s almost romantic, you think, the plainness of it, the lack of urgency. Rather than face that, you dip your hand past the glass door of the shower, turn the water on and listen to him close the bathroom door somewhere behind you. It’s just the two of you, but he clicks the lock anyways.

You glance over your shoulder at him, hand held out into the stream of water to test the temperature. He comes up behind you, bare chest against your back, arms snaking around your waist, thumbs toying with the waistband of your pants. He works over the buttons with ease, says something about making things even against the skin just above your collarbone.

With a laugh, you push your ass back against him, bend at the waist and slowly pull off your pants and underwear. A fucking tease, he says, clears his throat and moves around you to lose his own jeans.

The shower is big, but the shower head is small in size, mediocre in water pressure. You know before your leg is all the way in that one of you will be fighting to stay warm. You also know you’ll stoop incredibly low to avoid having to stand shivering in the corner while watching him shower. Biting is not off the table. Neither is a right hook.

It goes on like that for some time, the haphazard cohabitation of the hotel shower.

“Would you–” you elbow your between him and the glass door, into the line of hot water. He reaches over your head, switches the flow of water to the wand, picks it up and brings it to his shoulders, the water flowing over the body, over his chest and through the muscles of his core. If you weren’t so fucking cold you’d jump him. “Charles,” you pout.

He laughs, the kind that requires a step back to stabilize him, and then he’s holding the shower wand inches above the crown of your head, hot water streaming down your face so quick that you have to plug your nose to relish in the heat of it.

“Thank you,” you say all nasally, voice muffled by the water that falls over your lips. He slots it back into the showerhead and adjusts the water again so you’re not being waterboarded any longer. You wipe your face with both hands, smooth your soaked hair back over your head and look up at him. He kisses you again, promptly, quickly, with childlike haste, just because he can—you suppose. “What was that for?”

He shrugs. You supposed right.

In your haste, both of you had forgotten to grab the tiny shampoo and conditioner bottles from the vanity counter, and after winning rock, paper, scissors—and Charles demanding best of three like a first-grader—you’d made the treacherous journey back across the ice cold tile to grab the toiletries. You’d used them first as compensation for your hard work, and rather than hand them to him when you’re finished, you reach around to set them on the corner shelf.

He rolls his eyes and you smile, lathering the shampoo into your hair.

Your head falls back under the water, eyes closed, fingers rinsing the shampoo from your hair. You hear him moving, fighting with the travel-sized shampoo bottle you’d more than almost used up. You wait for the smart comment that never comes. When you squeeze past him, switch so that he can stand under the water, your ass brushes over his leg, over him, hard and erect in a way it wasn’t five minutes earlier. His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth and you laugh. “What happened to ‘no sex!’” you tease, do your best impression of his voice.

“This isn’t sex,” he replies all matter-of-factly. It makes your smile grow. “This is showering.”

You shake your head, roll your eyes and reach for the conditioner. “You always shower like this?”

He laughs under the water, shoulders shaking and flexing and making your life so much harder than it needs to be. You could draw maps on his back, trace from freckle to freckle until you run out. “Only when you’re not around.”

You reach out to touch him. If he can kiss you just because, you can draw pictures on his skin just because, especially after he finds the space to say something like that to you, to make you blush from the inside out. He reacts to your touch, to your fingers cutting through the smooth sheen of water that runs over him. It puts a coy smile on your face. “I’m around now, aren’t I?” You leave a kiss on his shoulder blade.

“You are,” he says, turns to face you, slinks his arms lazily around your waist and pulls you flush against him. “I’m not worried though. You’ll take care of me.”

You bite against your bottom lip, try to contain your smile. He’s right. You know he’s right and he knows it too. “Will I?” you hum.

He smiles so you don’t have to, moves his lips painfully close to yours, hovering so close you can almost feel the ghost of them. “You will,” he breathes.

You can’t bite your grin any longer. “I will,” you reply, and because distance has never done you two well, you kiss him, pull off his lips with an innocent smile. “As soon as you condition your hair.”

“Fuck conditioner.”

You laugh. “Fuck conditioner?”

“Mmhm,” he hums against your lips. “Fuck it.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “I still have to rinse my conditioner, though.”

He groans like he’s just noticed your slicked back hair coated in the smooth conditioner, pushes you under the shower head, gives the top of your head a scrunch before letting you finish ringing it out.

You stumble out ahead of him soon after, feet wet on the cold tile floor of the hotel bathroom. The mirrors are fogged and the air is thick with steam, slowly being sucked away into the ceiling vent fan. You pull a fluffy white towel down from the bar, hastily wrap it around your body, tuck it shut with a knot at your chest. He tells you that you don’t need it while drying his hair with a hand towel and you laugh–tell him there’s not a chance in hell you’re spending the night sleeping in soaked, chilly sheets.

“You’re not going to do much sleeping,” he remarks, pats your ass over the cotton fabric. You squeal, practically skip forward at the contact of his hand and leave him behind in the bathroom.

“You tell that to all your girls?” You ask, fingers trailing over the edge of the bed as you move past. “Or just the ones who know you’re a liar?”

He reappears with a towel tied around his waist, the smaller one he’d used for his hair draped around his neck, damp hair stuck to his forehead and shooting out in every which direction. There’s something horribly beautiful about it. “Mm-mhm,” he clicks, “just you.”

“Oh,” you hum, turning to face him with a quirked brow and quizzical smile.”Well now I feel special.”

He opens his mouth to speak, parting his lips just so slightly before pursing them shut again. “Yeah,” he breathes out, and you barely hear it over the turnover of the air conditioner.

“Yeah,” you repeat, and somehow it’s quieter.

You sit down in the armchair perched in the corner and the silence lingers, heavier than the steam and louder than the air conditioner. He stares at you for a beat too long and you feel your heartbeat in your temples, stare right back at his stupid green eyes. He scoffs and walks back into the bathroom. “I’m tired of this,” he says into the mirror, wiping away the fog with a flat palm.

“Tired of what?” You ask, fear the threat of his answer more than the actual answer itself. You know what he’s tired of; you. This. All of it, he’s tired of it all, and you don’t blame him. It’s become exhausting.

You know what he’s going to say, and still. His words hit you like a sucker punch. “This fucking hotel room shit.”

Your jaw flexes and you nervously chew on the tip of your tongue. “You’re the one who called me.”

He doesn’t leave space for the words to linger. “That’s not what I meant,” he says, turning to lean against the vanity counter, can barely glance at you. Your stare holds strong. “You know that’s not what I meant.” The thing is—you don’t know. You haven’t a clue what he means if it’s not the obvious elephant sitting between you.

“Say it, then,” you tell him and your voice oozes a confidence you didn’t know you could possess. It’s a facade. A good one, and he still sees right through it.

“Oh allez, tu es trop intelligent pour être aussi stupide,” Oh, come on, you’re too smart to be this dumb, he says, crosses his arms over his chest like you’ve done something he needs to defend against.

“Say it, Charles.”

He finds the nerve to smile. You wish a ghost would pull the towel hung over his shoulders tight around his neck. Maybe then he would feel more like you do. Instead, he uses it to dry off the back of his neck and tosses it somewhere out of sight. “You say it.”

“No,” you mutter, and then louder, you repeat, “No, I’m not going to.”

“You won’t?” He asks, pushes himself off the counter and stops in the doorway, leans against the frame and if he wasn’t so insistent on starting something right now, you’d take a picture before kissing every muscle on his body.

“Mm-mm.”

“Fine,” he replies all bluntly, but there’s nothing short about his tone. No, no, you know there’s no chance he’s dropping this.

“Fine.”

He sighs, eyes closed and heavy breath and head dropping to the sky like he’s begging—or praying— for some sanity or patience or whatever virtue he so badly needs when it comes to dealing with you. Eventually, he speaks to the ceiling, and the dramatic cringe and nose-bridge pinch that precedes his words makes him look more than pained. “I want more than this. I want—” he cuts himself off like he hasn’t already let it all boil over, like there’s any chance he’d keep it unsaid, that he’d be capable of stopping himself. “I want us.”

Your heart dives into your stomach, sends them both sinking through the floor. “You don’t.”

“I do,” he speaks, still to the white ceiling. You follow his sightline. The ceiling is textured.

“No, you don’t,” you think there’s a chance that your desperation to convince him this isn’t what he wants is really nothing more than a half-hearted attempt to convince yourself of the same thing. “You don’t, because then it’s all going to be fucked.”

Finally, he looks at you, or through you, or near you. Finally, he stops looking at the stupid textured white paint on the ceiling. “But what if it works? If we work?”

We.

“What if it doesn’t? If we try and then everyone gets invested and then it’s all ruined? Our parents and our siblings? We can’t ruin that.” You can’t. You won’t. You refuse to be the one responsible for any tension between your families, between your mothers. They’re the kind of friends that you don’t find more than once, and you wouldn’t dare to mess it all up after all this time, certainly not for a boy—for the boy.

“So, what?” He asks. There’s a terrible ribbon of torment laced through his voice. “We just ruin each other?”

You sink in your seat, reply to him meekly. He doesn’t usually make you shy. “Maybe.”

He says your name, that same ill-inducing tone to his voice. “If it was just us. Just me and you and nobody in our families had ever met,” he gestures between the two of you, always talking with his hands even when they’re half-limp and dejected. “Then what would your answer be?”

“I wouldn’t have to answer,” you dodge. Dodge, dodge, dodge. It feels like all you can do. “You wouldn’t want me.” Your words reek of haunting vulnerability, and you hope you’re the only one who picks up on it because it’s game over if he hears it. He’ll know it all; the lie and the truth and the debilitating fear of them both.

“You know that isn’t true,” he scowls, but his voice is soft. You hate it. You do, you hate it so much. You hate it. You’re tired of this conversation. You didn’t spend all those hours three seats over from a colicky baby and its miserable mother to argue with him about what you were. You just were, can’t that be enough?

You snap like a crunchy autumn leaf under a steel-toed boot. “Fine! Fine. Yes,” you concede to the fictional world, the alternate timeline with death and taxes etc, etc. To the universe where everything is different. To the world where everything is different, but everything is really just as it is; where the more things change, the more they stay the same. “My answer would be yes, let’s just say ‘fuck it’ and try because why the hell not? It’s not like we got along before all this.”

“Exactly. If we crash and burn, so what? We just go back to hating each other.”

“I can’t. I can’t, Charles. I care about my family too much.”

“You’re just scared. God, you’re like a child,” he speaks without thought, letting the words fly with reckless abandon. If you wanted to argue with him you’d latch onto that line. You don’t, though. You don’t want to argue, you never did.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” your voice cracks. It goes unaddressed by anything more than a shrug. “I don’t.”

“I want you to stop being a fucking coward and go on a date with me!”

“Charles,” you frown. Your nose burns. The gap, the gap, the gap. The impossible to bridge gap that you and he stand on either side of, waving aimlessly, begging the other with a silent plea—please. Please see what I see. I promise it’s better my way.

“One date,” he says, barely above a whisper, holding up a single finger. It’s his plea. “Nobody has to know we’re doing it.”

“I…” your breath catches in your throat, mind racing through potential responses. You lean forward in your seat, put your elbows on your knees and bury your face in your hands before you start crying. You won’t cry, you can’t. He can’t make you cry.

You sniffle, even though you aren’t crying—an audible reminder to yourself that you won’t be crying. That you’re eliminating the effects before they can even start. He must think you are crying, though, because the tension in the room deflates with every step he takes across the room. He lowers himself to your level, and you can feel the ghost of his hands lingering in a space just beyond your skin, like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch you. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have, fuck. I’m sorry,” his voice is so guilty, his hands finally touching your knees, thumbs moving in smooth, calming circles over your skin. You don’t have an opinion on the way you melt into putty under his touch.

When you pull your hands away from your face, they fall into your lap, find his and mold into some tangled mess of fingers. You take a deep breath—an attempt to steady yourself before finally speaking again, and with a subtle shake of your head, you’re able to silently explain to him that you’re okay, that his words are not the reason you’re so upset.

It’s so much more than that, than being a child or a coward of anything else he could possibly throw your way. With just as many words, he searches your eyes for answers, for a why that you couldn’t give him if you tried.

Everything with him is so unsaid.

“Okay,” you whisper echoes around the room. “Okay, a date,” you nod.

His furrow softens, the lines in his face smoothing over and the corners of his lips fighting a smile. “No,” he says softly, as if trying to give you an out, to free you from any perceived obligation. “You don’t have to do that.”

Your hand finds its way to his cheek, a gentle gesture of reassurance, and you lean in, pressing a soft kiss on those lips that want to smile so bad. It’s not about making him happy, though. It’s about letting yourself entertain the idea of satisfaction, of individual happiness.

He’s so. There’s no getting sick of kissing him, there just isn't. You sigh into his mouth and stand up, and you still want more. You still want more, towels dropping to the cold floor. Your knees bump against the back of the bed and it’s all giggly, and you still haven’t had enough. You maneuver onto the bed without separating, like the world might end if you’re not kissing him, and you’re convinced it might never be enough. That you’ll always crave more.

It’s all so comfortable, the way you two move around each other. It’s fluid. It’s calm. It’s soft, the look on his face when he’s slotted comfortably between your knees, His fingers trace your skin softly, almost ghostly in the way they graze through the valley of your breasts. You shiver. The goosebumps make you laugh against his lips.

He takes care of you, kissing you, trailing his lips down to your boobs, taking your nipple in his mouth, moving his tongue in sharp circles. Anything to elicit a reaction—get you all perky and poised for him. He palms your other tit with his big, strong hand, and your hands find a home in his hair, running through the curls, dragging your nails through the short locks at the nape of his neck.

You pull him up to kiss you and his hand slots comfortably on your jaw, sliding down slowly over your throat, applying a phantom pressure. It’s all bumping noses and sharing breath, him biting his bottom lip before swallowing yours again. He’s afraid to hurt you. It’s so fucking hot.

He moves you around so easily, hands on the back of your knees, pushing your legs against your chest before licking a long stipe through your cunt. You moan louder than intended, because it’s him doing it. Because it’s him doing it. He spreads them next, big strong hands inside your thighs, leaves a soft kiss on your clit. Out of necessity, your hands find something to grab in his own, spread flat over your stomach now, his tongue moving in quick, hard flicks over your clit. It makes you pant–writhe and pant and whine.

You search for grounding everywhere when his tongue sinks inside you, nose brushing against your clit—your palm your own breasts, white-knuckle the sheets and his shoulders and the sheets again.

His hands move up your sides and he curls his tongue around your cunt, pulls a pornographic moan from your lips. You write, moving up onto your elbows and he spreads your legs wider, wider, wider. Fuck. Fuck, he’s so good to you. An arm loops under your leg, around your thigh and over your cunt, sliding through your lips and opening you up for him all pretty. His eyes meet yours and he’s so pleased with himself, a genuine smile at the state he’s got you in and then he’s sucking down hard on your clip, pulling off with an audible pop. Your head falls back, your hole body tensing with pleasure when he doesn’t fucking stop sucking and licking and fucking. Your hands are on his again, gripping onto him for dear life, moving wherever he moves.

Your legs shake, fight against the hand on the inside of your thigh to close around his head, but he’s stronger than you. Fuck, he is. “So pretty,” he tells you, and you shudder, smile hard against the sheets and bury your hands in his hair.

“Right there,” you say through short, heavy pants, and then it’s all out the window. Game over, and you’re coming in his mouth and he still isn’t stopping so you just keep coming—so fucking hard, grinding against his mouth without any sense of rhythm. You think you could live in this high forever.

He kisses you, moves you—god, you’d be a ragdoll if he wanted, you think you really would. He moves you under him, up on your side and kisses down your shoulder, down your arm. He’s so kissy, can’t stay off you. It’s soft and romantic and it doesn’t make you ill at all, honest.

His words, though, they still want to keep up your little act. “You want me to fuck you, baby?” He asks, moving his dick through your slick, lining himself up to fuck you.

“Yes, yes,” you mewl, nodding hurriedly. He kisses you, sinks into you somewhere in the middle of it and you gasp into his mouth.

“Fff…” he trails off, bottoming out into you. “You okay?” he asked. You nod. You nod because you’re so full of him you can’t speak. The gesture is more than enough for him, provides him with the permission he needs to start fucking into you, to brace himself with a hand on either of your hips and thrust deep inside of you, bottoming out each and every time. “Fuck. Fuck, c’mere,” he groans, and then pulls you back against him, your back flush against his chest.

You crane your neck to kiss him, moan into his mouth when he’s cupping your ass and fucking you. You moan—gasp—and he fucking laughs. “Oh my god,” you whimper. “So good.”

He breathes sharp through his teeth, the bottom of his jaw rutting out with every thrust and then he’s biting your shoulder. He bruises the skin and kisses it better.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he says, and you want, so badly, to make him feel as good as he makes you.

“Wanna fuck you,” you say. “Let me fuck you.”

He doesn’t need convincing. “Okay,” he nods. “Okay, please.”

You’re half-hearted in your push back against his arm. He’s the reason he pulls out of you and falls back onto his back, makes space for you to straddle him and grind against him and kiss him and kiss him and let him kiss you.

With a cocky grin and dark green eyes he moves his cock through your slick, lets a smug laugh slip through his lips as he lines up with your hole so you can sink down on him, slow. Slow. Slow because the stretch burns every fucking time.

“Fuck,” you stumble, “s’big.”

He meets you halfway, lifts his hips up off the bed to minimize the time he spends not buried inside of you. He smiles all stupid and your stuttered whine. “Fucking took it all the other times,” he breathes out, fingers digging deep into the skin over your hips.

“Fuck you,” you laugh. He winces, and it only makes you laugh harder, lean down to kiss him so your chests are pressed against each other and grind your hips. His arms wrap around your middle, big and strong and pulling you impossibly close to him and the pace that he sets underneath you. They roam your body, his hands dancing over your sides and your back and knot into your hair, keep roaming until he’s grabbing at your ass.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he says. You don’t need his words to know that, the sounds of your cunt clenching around him audibly demonstrating just how wet you are with every single thrust. “Always so good for me.”

It doesn’t take long for you to come again, with the new angle and the new vulnerability. It never takes long with him, like he knows every inch of your body and just how to use it. “Mhm, fuck. Jesus,” you shudder, breath choppy and desperate. He’s relentless through your orgasm, like always, and it just extends it, draws it out painfully long. “I fucking l—ah—” you clench around him, legs shaking on either side of his abs. Your spasms aren’t calmed by even his strong hands, but he keeps them there anyway.

“I love fucking you, baby,” he says, nibbles on your ear, kisses nowhere in particular and everywhere at once. You’re filled with butterflied by his crude words.

“Do it, then,” you beg. “Please, fuck, please, Charles.”

In a single, swift movement, he pulls you off him and flips you onto your back. Immediately, without any semblance of hesitation, you’re reaching for his cock, to guide him back to where you want him, to where he belongs. You ache when you’re this close to him, when you’re this close and don’t have him, aren’t full of him.

His hands find both of yours, interlock your fingers and move them somewhere above your head, pinned against the sheets. “Don’t say my name like that,” he whispers.

You play dumb, but your cheeks are flushed. “Why not?”

“You drive me crazy,” he says, kisses you before you can even attempt to rebuke his claims.

“Me?” you laugh, fingers dancing over his abs. If his eyes weren’t so fucking green , you’re sure you’d find the reaction to your touch, the flexing of his muscles under the pads of your fingers, to be quite the show.

He smiles all soft. “You.”

Your hand pulls him to you by the back of his neck, something about you can’t say something like that and not kiss me after, and then you’re licking against his teeth and it’s all so hazy—the way he slides back inside you between gasped breaths, the way you bite down on his bottom lip when he fucks you so well, and the way your legs wrap around his waist when you come, trying to pull him closer, deeper, to feel him with every nerve ending.

“That’s right,” he says, a rare calming presence through your orgasms. He doesn’t do this often, not with you, at least. “Atta girl,” he laughs. “Make a mess.”

He fucks you through it, he does, but it’s slow and steady until you’re finished, back in reality, and then he’s the messy one—fast, hard, fucking into you with reckless abandon. Fast, fast, faster. It’s fucking blinding. Fuck, it’s good. It’s so good.

He groans against your shoulders, hips snapping against yours. “Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, because you’re so fucked at this point that English attempts to escape you. “You’re so fucking close, yes,” you moan, “please, give it to me, baby,” and then he’s coming, head buried in your neck. His body weight is heavy on you, every muscle tensing as you’re fucked full of his cum.

The two of you are so close, have never been fucking closer, and it still doesn’t feel like enough. “Fuck,” you giggle, and his whole body shakes with his own laughter, moving up to kiss you. You smile through the whole thing, through the hard kiss and the soft pecks that follow, through his fingers brushing the hairs from your forehead and the feeling of him dripping down your leg. Through all of it, you’re both smiling.

It’s giddy, almost, and God. God, you’re so fucking happy.

#juliana's fic rec #queen mack <3 #cl16 fic #cl16 smut rec #my fanfic commentary

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jar-of-ectoplasm · 4 years ago

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Beach Trip Headcanons: La Squadra

a/n: it's getting warmer where i live which is horrible and i hate it but it gave me some inspo here's some bullshit

Genre/Warnings: Crack, fluff, just some cute shit, polyamory (sorlato), a LOT of simping omfg

~Risotto Nero~

-he already had his tits out on the regular so his bare chest isn't anything new but he lost that stupid hat so it wouldn't get wet and now you can stare at hat-less riz

-doesn't get in the water too often but he definitely goes underwater to grab your legs and scare you (he does it to ghiaccio and melone too; melone screams at the top of his lungs and ghiaccio fails around like he's drowning)

-spends most of his time under the parasols with illuso and prosciutto, just chatting and watching you mess around with your teammates (and maybe checking you out while he's at it)

-lowkey starts to get jealous if he thinks melone or formaggio are gettin' too friendly with you (god help any random person that flirts with you)

-Riz makes damn sure both you and him are very well saturated (?? does that sound weird) with sunscreen. there's no way in hell either of you will be suffering through that

~Prosciutto~

-you thought you were going to the beach with your boyfriend? lmfao nah you're at the beach with mom and your rowdy ass siblings now

-came in clutch with the sunscreen, aloe vera ointment, snacks, water and spending money. has a very nice set up under a parasol with illuso (and you, if you'd like to join him in his relaxation/parenting session)

-pros with his hair down, shirtless and wearing a pair of pineapple swim trunks to match with pesci? out in public? a lot more likely than you'd think

-formaggio would be a prick and dump water on his hair and now you get to see prosciutto with his hair wet fUCK (pros would be FUMING but he'd look so GOOD)

-would read to you but he doesn't want to risk getting any of his fav books wet so he'd just tell you wonderful stories of the team before you joined (most of them are embarrassing for everyone but him)

~Pesci~

-literally he's having the time of his LIFE right now. he's completely protected from the sun (thanks mamma pros), he's goin' fishing, he's got his s/o with him, what more could a boy ask for?

-maybe he should've asked formaggio to not throw sand at him every 10 minutes because that is happening for sure, no matter how much prosciutto yells at him to stop pesci will not be left alone

-is in the water like, 70% of the time. he'll make bets with ghiaccio to see who can swim out the farthest and ghia is surprisingly not mad when he loses

-he'll walk off the beach with just you to get ice cream and it's honestly really fucking cute (he gets strawberry, btw)

-pesci really likes picking you up and tossing you into the water. he's secretly a little bastard and will laugh at you while helping you up

~Illuso~

-jesus the entire day with him is just 🙄. he's such a little bitch about EVERYTHING

-won't go in the water at all and carries a compact mirror with him so he has an escape plan in case formaggio decides to fuck with him. salt water damages your hair and there's no possible fucking way he's risking his scalp just for a little fun

-still insisted on wearing swim trunks and going shirtless though, mostly just to have your undivided attention (as if he didn't already force you to pay attention to him enough)

-sitting under parasols with prosciutto because he's pale and has sensitive skin but he still ends up getting sunburned and won't stop complaining

-you guys did have a cute little moment when the sun was starting to set and he dragged you away from everyone so he could look for sea glass with you (totally wasn't an excuse to hold your hand while he was dragging you around)

~Formaggio~

-spends the entire day being a little rat bastard and making almost everyone wish he was dead (he respects risotto too much and sorbet and gelato scare him so he leaves them alone)

-throwing sand at pesci and melone, pouring water on prosciutto, stealing melone's goggles, chasing illuso into the mirror world, straight up throwing ghiaccio's car keys across the beach

-and of course he's gonna drag you into this. even if you just wanted to have a nice beach day with your asshole boyfriend, he's gonna hold you captive during his shenanigans

-can and will wipe his sweat on you. he thinks it's the funniest thing in the world. please throw seaweed at him in retaliation, he thinks it's nasty as fuck

-leaves the beach early so he can treat you to dinner, both as a thank you for dealing with his bullshit all day and as an apology for wiping sweat on you every 30 minutes

~Ghiaccio~

-the most unrecognizable when he's as the beach with everybody. his hair isn't styled, so his curls are a lot looser and not plastered to his head, he's not wearing his glasses so they don't get lost in the water, HIS FUCKING LEGS AND BARE CHEST ARE JUST OUT

-literally just,,,SURFER GHIACCIO??? come ON dude. he knows what he's doing and will wink at you every single time he catches you staring

-loves wading out far into the water with you on his surf board so he can be all soft and cute with you without anybody hearing or seeing him

-he'll also be pretty light-hearted when he's out there too. he and pesci will see who can swim out the farthest and he'll let pesci win (let's be honest, with his legs he could swim to a different continent if he wanted too)

-ghia might look hot as hell out there, but he'll also end up burnt as hell. literally he just didn't put sunscreen on and he was out in the sun for hours. hottie got sun poisoning, please take him home early he will die

~Melone~

-he brought along goggles, a snorkel and flippers so he can do some shallow reef diving

-he'll pop up occasionally and yell for you to come over and show you a tiny little crab or a cool looking fish he found (it's honestly really, really cute)

-mel will take routine breaks to reapply sunscreen, drink water, check up on you, and get his goggles stolen (which he did not plan on). he'll also take this time to use shitty beach-related pick up lines to get you to laugh

-honestly as pervy as you'd think he would be. maybe it's because he's distracted by all the fun little creatures he keeps finding in tide pools and such

-has his own little set up a few feet away from prosciutto and illuso's. he'll be there while he's taking his breaks and yes he will try to cuddle with you even though it's pushing 90 degrees at noon

~Sorbet and Gelato~

-not to get sad in what is supposed to be a fun headcanon set but neither of them will take their shirts off or get in the water. both of them have a lot of body image issues and they'd really appreciate it if you didn't try to convince them to be half naked in public

-with that being said, both Sorbet and Gelato get loads of enjoyment out of just watching you swim around and have fun before returning to them

-Sorbet will help apply sunscreen but he really just wants an excuse to grope you and Gelato in public

-Gelato will want to have a sandcastle building contest with you (Sorbet is the judge and both of you receive the grand prize of a kiss)

-long walks on the beach together at night after everyone's gone home? of fucking course it's gonna happen

#literally i could go on for hours about how hot i think ghiaccio is #i need to write more for him jfc #la squadra #la squadra x reader #risotto nero x reader #prosciutto x reader #pesci x reader #illuso x reader #formaggio x reader #ghiaccio x reader #melone x reader #sorbet and gelato x reader #jjba x reader #jjba headcanons

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followdelight · 2 years ago

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Kinnporsche Cast + Astrology

AKA: Holy Water Signs, Batman AKA: a collection of semi-coherent ramblings abt the KPTS cast and their astrological charts

Putting aside the fact that I don’t know anyone’s rising signs (which is extremely annoying for me, personally), as a triple water, I’m obsessed with the amount of water in this cast's charts.

By age we have:

Mile - January 5, 1992 (30) - Capricorn (all earth/fire like wow love that moon/sun in Cap & Mars in Sag (Pluto in Scorpio))

Tong - January 26, 1992 (30) - Aquarius (moon in Scorpiooooo)

Ping - November 28, 1992 (29) - Sagittarius (mercury scorpio, mars cancer)

Nodt - August 7, 1993 (28) - Leo (mercury & venus in Cancer)

Apo - February 24, 1994 (28) - Pisces (moon, Leo; venus, Pisces, mostly water/air this bb)

Build - June 4, 1994 (28) - Gemini (mercury & venus in Cancer, mostly water)

JJ - June 28, 1994 (28) - Cancer (holy shit waterboy moon in Pisces, mercury in Cancer)

Perth - July 6, 1994 (28) - Cancer (ooh moon in Gemini)

Jeff Satur - March 6, 1995 (27) - Pisces (moon in taurus, adorable)

Us - September 10, 1996 (25) - Virgo (no water signs incredible)

Job - September 22, 1996 (25) - Virgo (no water signs 2.0)

Bas - April 9, 1997 (25) - Aries (no water signs 3.0)

Pong - June 23, 1997 (25) - Cancer (mostly air wow, but venus in Cancer too)

Bible - December 25, 1997 (24) - Capricorn (omfg moon in scorpio)

Ta - February 23, 2000 (22) - Pisces (moon in Libra oh this makes so much sense)

Barcode - August 4, 2004 (17) - Leo (moon in pisces of fucking course)

For their sun signs that breaks down to:

6 Water (no Scorpio)

4 Earth (no Taurus)

4 Fire

2 Air

Straight up over half of them have a Sun/Moon in water (9 in total -- 3 Sun in Pisces, 3 Sun in Cancer; 2 Moon in Pisces, and 2 Moon in Scorpio (JJ overlaps sun-Cancer, Moon-Pisces))

But when you look at their prominent placements -- here, in lieu of their rising sign, I’m using a top 3 of Sun/Moon/Venus -- there are only FIVE (5) without a water sign in there. Those 5 are: Mile, Ping, Us, Job, and Bas. (love that Us/Job/Bas are also in a little grouping of their own in birth order too, not related, but cute).

Aside from the overwhelming amount of water in their collective charts, individual observations include:

Apo & Mile being perfectly contrasting-- Apo predominantly Water/Air, Mile predominantly Earth/Fire.

Mile's top 5 being 2 Capricorn+3 Sagittarius I love that for him.

Barcode & Jeff have shockingly balanced charts element wise -- both have 2-3 of each sign, I’m fascinated by this. What is that balance like, boys?

Not me still trying to pull together a complete collection of Jeff crying gifs/pics bc that boy is a ~Pisces~

Bible is basically ALL AIR (Aquarius, specifically) aside from his Sun/Moon, his Mars in Aquarius seems especially obvious now that I know, and that + his Sun in Capricorn really pulls his entire ~aura~ together. Many interests & the will to actually do them.

Build’s chart is SO WATERY and Tong is SO EARTHY, their entire dynamic makes so much sense very balanced/complimentary, + them being the only 2 air signs

Did any of this have a point? Absolutely not. Except fascination.

#kinnporsche cast #kpts cast #this is not a compete analysis as i am an astrology enthusiast not a professional #nor again does any of this have a cohesive purpose #but pls enjoy my very amateur observations #or don't #kinnporsche the series #astrology #i did not include screenshots but i could add them if anyone wants #mostly i was pulling this shit together for my own amusement but figured other folks may have wanted to know so #please note as aforementioned my extreme bias toward water signs is bc i am personally all water #i blame jeff being a pisces entirely for how this all began

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mego42 · 5 years ago

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Best of Brio Hitlist: 1x05

Apparently I’m still doing this so that’s cool I guess. 1x05!!! Some absolutely top notch Brio content here, folks. This episode is packed with classics and overall I think makes my series top 10 list but don’t hold me to that bc I have a goldfish memory and there’s easily tons of stuff I’m not thinking about rn.

More nonsense under the cut.

Turner’s mustache is terrible how did I not notice how terrible it was before it’s literally all I can see

“Well maybe he didn’t know if Dean could read?” GOD WHY DID THEY SCRAP THIS LEVEL OF QUALITY CONTENT

Another flannel for Annie, still no girlfriend

AND ANOTHER HOODIE FOR RIO

AND MORE RIO + ANNIE CONTENT

s1 truly was god tier

omfg I forgot Finn Collins was in s1 (if you didn’t watch t100 this is meaningless to you but let me just say it delights me to no end that two separate casting directors looked at that actor’s face and said yep that’s a fuckboy if I’ve ever seen one)

taking a page out of the shows book k and pretending this fake cancer storyline isn’t a thing

RIO!

HIS NAME’S RIO

oooookay

oh is his name Rio??

hEL P

I love slick!Beth and her lying superpower

“There’s a band aid on my arm and it’s not mine” might honestly be the grossest thing this show has ever done

OKAY SO WAIT I will be the first to admit I pay v little attention to the Boland kids (for real which one is Kenny what is the other boy’s name I don’t even know) but isn’t Jane supposed to be the youngest?? And yet Beth hasn’t had sex since Emma was born???? I’m so confused

serious question does this show have a script supervisor

hello again turner’s terrible mustache

“I’m on Facebook too” tbh Rio seems more like a twitter person to me but what do I know

Before I go all caps, I love how Manny plays Rio cycling through amusement and impatience and irritation so quickly that he’s nearly doing all of them at once while dealing with Beth in the early eps, it’s such a rich performance

WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH SOMEONE LIKE ME

it’s actually kind of weird hearing this line in context, I’ve watched it in videos so much it like, exists on its own

Was lowkey expecting a soundtrack to kick in after he said it and the shot to freeze frame or drop saturation

maybe something by hozier or kaleo

I’m absolutely fcking feral for the way Rio says “right, right” all slowed down and soft

Love how hittin’ it straight up bounces off of Beth’s brain, if Rio hadn’t clarified, how long do you think it would’ve taken her to figure out what he meant are we thinking minutes or would she have like, driven off the road halfway home when the shoe dropped

OH I’M SORRY SWEETHEART TELL HIM WE’RE MAKIN’ LOVE

I love love love how hard that scrambles Beth’s whole brain, I love it with my whole heart, I love how you can see it sink in, see her brain go there and then just b r e a k

Ugh god and that little smile when he ducks out after dropping that grenade what a little shit I love it

And then he leaves and that long shot where she’s like, really thinking about it

She’s totally picturing it

(same bitch)

That feels over the line my b

GOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDD beth and annie giving ruby their cut gets me right in the godamn feels every time I love their friendship so!!!!! much!!!!!!!!!!!

right in the honey nut feelios <- @medievalraven

the extended shot of three of of them laughing their asses off over Annie being ridiculous feels so real, it’s one of those moments that makes the show and their friendship feel so lived in and genuine, like if you’d told me that was an outtake from after they’d cut I’d believe it, it’s pure friends having a moment and it makes my heart do stuff

beth: my life long bff (who you have known as long as you’ve known me)’s daughter is in the the icu I don’t have time to eat

dean: I don’t underStaND?????!!! hOw tHIS is nOT??????!!!!????? aBoUT mE???????!!!!!!!!???????!!????????

sidebar, I miss Beth’s camel coat it looks so soft and lush and comfy

like don’t get me wrong the black pea coat has it’s advantages as we all saw in 309

but the camel one is so classy, i love it

hello again again turner’s terrible mustache

godDAMN DO I LOVE THIS BETH AND TURNER SCENE

we don’t talk enough about the electric chemistry turner has with everyone he shares a scene with

i mean not dean but who has chemistry with dean, dean has like, negative chemistry. he’s a dampner

all of his scene’s with Beth???? W H E W

with Rio????? *fans self*

can you imagine what that threesome would be like? aside from wildly hot they’d be like a pack of praying mantises at the end all racing to rip the others head of first

it’d be a massacre

but worth it

ahem anyway

AND HE KISSED ME add this line to the list of things I’m absolutely fcking feral over

Something about Christina’s delivery just does!!! It!!!!!! For!!!!!!! Me!!!!!!!!

Whenever people use it in videos I lose my entire godamn mind

remember when Beth was chill about the word panties

And we close with a flawless use of Phantogram 10/10 I want to send the s1 music supe a gd fruit basket

#best of brio hitlist #when will hoodie!rio return from the wars #why does annie not have a girlfriend??? what have men ever done for her??????#1x05 #nbc good girls #shut up meg

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a-collection-of-villainous-aus · 5 years ago

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COFFEE SHOP AU PT 3

(section four of four posting all of this has been a damn nightmare omfg)

THE NEXT MORNING....can wait , I wanna write some Flug Pov ....and stuff >>

Finally after all this time of searching, he had found him, with Cruentus his loyal and friend and butler keeping out a keen ear for any information he had done the rest, both had done their best to keep their investigation low profile, Acylius had, had to make remarks about Black Hat he did not wish to repeat.

It usually made others laugh saying the last place they heard that little cretin was therefore giving him new leads to find this fascinating being without causing the assassins to be urged to hunt the short demon out all the sooner.

Today had been imperative , Cruentus had heard word that the hit had been put out on Black Hat today...and with a stroke of amazing luck he had found him...there he was standing in the town square so exposed, anyone could have struck him down and he was not afraid.

There was more bravery in this one body than there was in the entire system in which he came from, they were from completely different ends and yet as he watched him he hoped...a perfect match.

Fools would have assumed he wanted what they called this insolent creature as a decorated corpse, a morbid gift, others would have still feigned foolishness as to hope the Legion son would not realise Black Hat had been killed purposely because they saw him as a threat to their way of life...if they ever suspected Acylius wanted Black Hat as more than a meal or pet...things could still go for the worse especially if they knew what he was planning.

With his magic he had shifted them to a place where it was that of in between, the space between glass , no neither that side or the other, it was something that required a ridiculous amount of energy to keep them locked there and something only Legion's could do, some might be able to barely glimpse into this version of reality , some might never see it at all, it simply mattered on how closely related you were to the Legion himself.

Saturated colours, pale blues dense greys, pavements shining like silver with an endless sky of smokey grey, thick clouds hung in a solid mass, rain pouring endlessly, how small he looked, judging by his look Acylius would in a guesstimate of four ft four or five.

Swallowing he hooked a claw around his white collar, was the air unusually humid today or was it just him...heh of course he knew it was him...this was no reaction to the air these storms left in their wake.

What had him so attracted to this demon, was how hard he'd worked just to bring himself up, he had not accepted his fate, it was intriguing, inspiring and most of all captivating, what will he had, it was absolutely beautiful.

Was love at first sight possible, he had seen some photos that demons had taken, how he'd looked in the, face half shadowed by the brim of his top hat and standing tall...they did not capture him at all, there was a presence to be respected from him and that was why demon's hated him...how dare such a creature from the bowels of Hell have such a way that they would never.

A smile quirked at the corner of his lips, how stupid they had all been to shun him, well their loss was his gain in the most wonderful way, because that meant he would be by his side...no that was not true, there was one things Legions always knew , and it was how they were going to die.

To help him reach his goal, to make a change this world so desperately needed...to be with him was the stupidest, most irresponsible thing he could do...if he walked away he would live a long life...unhappy and repetitive with boring suitors and meetings...with this one being, there was a chance to be happy to help with the creation of a more suited world and remind them all it was not class or wealth or all these places placed upon them that made a demon great but their ability to perform, to put their skills to good use and in the end they were all equal.

Yes...this may shorten his life...but what would be left of it would be perfect...and if Black Hat fell for him...what divine wonder that would leave him in.

I'm sure you have had that feeling to , when you look upon something so elegant , so quintessential your heart just swells, art, music, that crush you currently have or thing you love so deeply that no matter how heavy and dark the world seems it is a beacon of light and in some peculiar way it even makes you feel sad in ways that perhaps you would not typically describe sadness, , more a distant longing of wishing for it to never end and be eternal.

It is not eternal and neither are we, so you take that moment and treasure it because despite Acylius knowing that this fate will get him killed, he would sooner die with this joy than life that endless waste of existence never following that one dream that would be extinguished if he did not take that chance now.

The soft rumbling of distant gods within heavens above danced with each crystal tear their clouds spilled , streams small , dancing water ribbons through cobbled stone, how heavy his clothes felt, drenched and sticking to his skin, Acylius loved the rain, how it held him in its grasp, one day even making love in it sounded appealing...if he could with Black Hat...but considering the look on the smaller demons face and how grim he looked that might never be an option if it were to be an option at all.

Stepping forth a cold wind sent a chill through them both and Acylius knew his fate was sealed, he was not afraid to die and with each step he felt more certain about the whole ordeal.

Few would genuinely mourn his death and most would mourn his loss of power and what it could have brought them, he did not have a death wish but as well as a Legion knowing when they were to die they also knew when their mate had been found and here his was, he could never turn back on him, knowing that doing so would only be the death of him, that twisted his heart into unfathomable shapes of agony even thinking about it, but that was not what he was afraid of..if Black Hat refused him , the world would never change and the rejection might just send him spiralling.

Of course he could smell that Black Hat was in heat, but he would not take advantage of this, if consent had been given prior that would be a different case, this was a case of anything wanted would and could very well be only talk of that condition.

While he was a very tactile demon he would make sure to barely touch him lest he left him in a worse state, so he chose to ignore that scent that made him want to hold him close and bury his face in the crook of Black Hat's neck and bite softly, give him what he wanted with his shorter frame latched around him, with a hand at his lower back and one between his shoulders, joined, warmth and desperate need, again and again...to feel that glide, to feel the embrace of his form or give his form the chance to take his...it would be primal and yet more...but he would not do that he would not be like those monsters who took advantage of such demons states, this was to give Black Hat a new life, not make new life.

Opening the umbrella he'd pulled from nowhere , this was the most frightening leap he would ever take, to love this creature who would be the cause of his death, this was insane, mad...and absolutely perfect.

Thus he made his offer and had been surprised that after their discussion as they stood their watching the rain, the umbrella now in Black Hat's hand, the other had made its way into his, Acylius did not say anything, only a soft sigh as mist left his pale scarred lips, perhaps it was some sign of gratitude, either way he did not let go, finger tips lightly touching over worn leather, subtly caressing the smaller demons knuckles and once he'd sworn Hat had looked up at him, but he did not dare to hope he could feel anything similar, it was clear to him already that Black Hat did not take kindly to Legion's relatives.

This moment of calm serenity he would have died for it time an again to meet him and feel this to have their moment which only existed between the dawning of the light and setting of the moon.

End of part three

#Paperhat #Villainous au #Villainous #Tall flug #Acylius flug #Black hat #Ooc #Short hat

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cruddyborderlandstheories · 5 years ago

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That behind closed doors vid eh? I took the time to change the angle/darkness on them for my own viewing so by comparing them to the other videos, my screengrabs might seem a little different, but that’s just bc i changed the pitch and yaw settings and adjusted the brightness.

spoilers technically bc this wasn’t released to the public by gearbox, so venture forth at your own risk. nothing story-wise, as far as i’m aware, though.

alright it took me a while to get things settled as i had to keep adjusting the saturation and stuff for different scenes but i am here and i am ready to ANALYZE

as we pop into sanctuary-III we notice a new quest which I am like 40% sure is named “Going Rogue” which... is a pretty interesting name. “Being Reguo” is what I actually see but I don’t think that’s it.

we also have a couple of guns in the vending machine

+3- Weapon Charge Speed so we know Maliwan guns have charge time so I’m glad there are perks to reduce that.

a sniper sold by Amara

more reduced charge speed + melee damage

Jakobs Assault Rifle! Bonus crit damage (hoping ARs are actually viable this time around), weapon accuracy, melee.

I can’t read it, but I am assuming this is the rare spawn notification

this seems like a hub for the rare enemy missions! that is so awesome

2 of the rare enemies we can fight i am assuming

some more. i actually thought the far left, 2nd over was zer0

“I know it sounds impossible, but you’re going to have to stop the Unstoppable”.

In-Game friend’s list

5 tabs, one of them looks like a key, maybe there are friend codes across consoles? Idk what the first tab is named, but they have 7 friends online. I believe the bottom one (Moze) is you and the top one is the person you’ll be joining? It shows what quest you’re on under your name. And for some reason there’s an icon of claptrap at the top, that very well may be the current player’s icon (as it’s also above Moze and it says gunner in the box). You can edit your status apparently, but idk what status means. there’s also a button for View Inventory.

viewing the inventory rn

edit group button below ur icon/profile

new area

the unstoppable man goliath himself

more of the new area

1 (one) fear: The Unstoppable

he can apparently throw shit at us like Bullymongs did

F in chat for Zane

You can also shoot them out of the air

“Don’t leave empty [handed?]”

zoomer is so fucking cute

he threw the tire thing and it flew behind him instead of forwards

lmao

also i 100% just noticed this but zoomer is red instead of the normal yellowish, might be bc of a perk or maybe zoomer conforms to zane’s skin as well? could’ve sworn he was wearing the basic bitch outfit tho

moze and ib

can’t tell if this is a skin or not lmao the quality is too terrible

the quest called Sanctuary

i think that is a new skin? it looks black instead of blue but again that may be the quality of the video

oooo that’s different!!!! QUEST TO CUSTOMIZE SANCTUARY FOR THE INHABITANTS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

THIS IS ALSO DIFFERENT!!!!

vs the sanctuary-iii demo below

the behind the doors demo ^

the sanctuary-iii demo v

that’s a different list on the floor!!

the mail menu/tab!!!!!!

New legendary pangolin shield gives nova, storage, and health. does more weapon damage while shields are depleted

“I said bitttttttcccchhhhhh”

Also, those fucking names are brilliant. “Amara (as Amara), CalypsoKilla86 (as Zane), Fl4k (as Moze), MC Hammerlock (as unlisted), Moze (as Moze), SkagLord9000 (as Moze), Captain_Fuzz_Lipp (Offline - picture is Rhys), and Maya (Offline - I think the picture is Maya)

Maxxed-Out Sureshot++

“Thrown weapon MIRVs into 3 projectiles”

“Are you sure? Are you sure you want to send this item? Sent mail cannot be returned.”

EDGELORD ZANE FLYNT AHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

GRANDPA NEVER GREW OUT OF HIS HOT TOPIC PHASE TGSHDTJYRUKJETHYRWTEQ

Moze heads! cool top hat skull

Moze skins

spooky scary. reminds me of Zer0′s pirate skin from captain scarlett

MOZE COLORS AND IT’S REAL WE GET TO PICK OUR COLOR SCHEMES THANK YOU OMG

GEARBOX ACTUALLY LET ME BE GAY IM YELLING

Moze emotes

it looks like there is a wheel for emotes!!!

so far we see finger guns and a little heart. we also know there’s a wave and we’ve seen amara do the chicken dance.

Amara, and some of her heads

birb

her hair holy shit that’s gorgeous

is that a crimson raider helmet? that’s badass as fuck goddamn

marcuS?

oh no Amara’s a furry now

drop from the rare enemy we see in the moze gameplay, maybe?

psycho cultist mask

warfstache?

Amara skins

spooky. guessing there will be a halloween skin event?

Fl4k!

i think this is their VIP reward head

Fl4k skins that change patterns

looks like a hawaiian shirt pattern on their jacket

camo

glow?

idk but it looks awesome

looks wintery to me, idk, maybe a floral print?

Zane heads

Soldier 76 reference i am guessing? I don’t play overwatch, im talking about the gay soldier guy with the visor lmao

space dandy fucked dirk im-

there are also gun charms

amara’s arm

buttstallion’s tail iirc

claptrap charm!

... eye of the destroyer? i think? needs more teeth

i have no idea lmao

fl4k’s doggy bowl!

helios hmmm

jack’s mask D:

moxxi’s hat

psycho mask

RHYS’S MOUSTACHE LMFAO

?????

tina’s bunny

a toaster? finally i can go swimming with my guns-

gearbox logo

weapon skins:

more eden 6:

is that is that an atlas building i see? or maybe thats SUPAMAX MFG!! they said we’d find a lot of crashed ships on Eden-6 (hey shoutout to my one post that said that the ship with bugs in it was gonna be the B-Team’s crashed ship that stranded them there, I WAS SO CLOSE)

may be supamax mfg

TINA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

looks they they’ve been living in the abandoned center (Jakobs? is it actually?)

Jakobs manor in the background

“Issarians” “Sarians” I dunno but they’re lil dinosaur thingies

more jakobs manor

i like the mix of old-timey shit and holograms/neon lights

this place is fucking huge omg

there’s like a library and everything holy shit

and it all goes to shit when the CoV get in there and hang people with TVs for heads (3rd trailer)

looks like its a basement or smth

volcano? volcano? volcano? volcano?

(also from the third trailer ^) ARE WE GONNA BLOW UP THE VOLCANO? FUCK YEAH

Jabbers! cat monkey things. they are smart and can use guns

dome - reminds me of the atlas biodome of which cassius is from

(from TFTBL ^)

but it's just empty :|

some of the abandoned ships!

definitely thinking that abandoned factory like area we see (Tina Brick and Mordy in) is SUPAMAX MFG. these ships are SUPER similar to Sanctuary-III

THAT’S SO COOL??? this is straight outta skyrim holy shit. that giant skeleton on the tree holy fuck

looks like some sort of factory area? pump/mining maybe?

omfg lmao

this looks awful lmao but they said there is a gas giant in the sky so i gotta believe them

moze standing in what looks like the main menu

“[Iron Bear] is a little bit scuffed up - she’s seen some action”

they go on to talk about stuff we’ve already seen: about Moze’s action skills (hardpoints) and her skill trees

a better look at Amara’s phasegrasp

The quest is

“Bandit Jabber Hunter Spy”

Zane and Amara running ahead

You can target your missiles to one or multiple enemies at once. that’s fuckin awesome

more of Amara’s phasegrasp

Zane’s clone in action

“Lair of the Harpy”

And that’s it so far. That’s all we got. but holy shit was it a wild ride. I’m soooooo happy we get to pick our own colors for our skin designs. Seriously. So fucking happy.

#borderlands #bl3 #borderlands 3 #spoilers #leaked content

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mayorwhiskerss · 7 years ago

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Face Shading Tut!!

This is gonna be Rambly cuz im like that but this is how ive been doing my face shading for the past few months ;0 i use ps but this also works with gimp cuz thats what i used to use!

first off load up your screenshot!! i’m using this one of my bby nix

to delete the background, i go to “select > colour range” and get rid of the green (i do 200% bc its green but if you have white you might wanna have it lower). then i do an unnecessary step of deleting that, then selecting my cutout sim AGAIN for the next step. i think it makes a difference but idk. then i go to “select > modify > contract” and contract by 1-2, then “select > refine edge” and make smoothing between 3-10, and make feather 0.01!! click ok, ctrl+i to invert, and delete!!

THEN i mess with the values. i go to “image > adjustments > brightness/contrast” and turn the contrast up a TON (about 64 for this specific image but just eyeball it!) and then do “image > adjustments > levels” and play with the levels (sometimes i use curves depending on sim). again just eyeball this but i usually up white, push black a LITTLE, and push midtones a little more >:3 i like the high contrast but really you can do whatever you like

NOW I START MY HIGHLIGHTS! for this u gotta. think about lighting, and your sim’s features. which parts would stand out more? its similar but slightly different for each sim!!

select a light part on your sims face, such as the inner eye corner, and make it lighter and less saturated in your colour select, make a new layer, and then go to town w ur highlighting! dw about checking the colour yet, i just deal with that afterwards ;)

! this only took me a minute, and it doesnt have to be perfect!! i smoosh this all around with the smudge tool and make the transitions soft and make the shapes better, then gaussian blur it a lil! after that, set the layer to soft light, make colour corrections in hue/saturation if needed, and adjust the layer opacity! in pic 4, i realised i didnt quite like the cheek highlight so i smooshed it some more ;3

for the shadows, i just do the same in opposite places! select a darker spot on the face, like just under the eyes or under the lip (not the nostrils omfg), make it darker, and sometimes SLIGHTLY less saturated. saturation is hard but its okay we can play with it later. then its the same steps! i find this one varies more for different sims! especially w cheekbones.

wrow glamorous.........make sure 2 pay attention to features a lot! nix is half taiwanese so she has less pointy features + less shadows :0) i do the exact same steps as before next, but make the layer hard light!

as u can see, i didnt get the saturation quite right but thats okay!! but do remember that you do want your shadows to be a little saturated, otherwise they’ll look dirty.

HERE’S SOME QUICK EXAMPLES OF HOW I’D SHADE SOME OTHER BBYS OF MINE!! just 2 show the differences i guess?

FINAL STEP + my fave one. just some eye shadows!! v simple. just draw some black under the eyelid, smudge it around to make it soft, maybe blur it a couple pixels, you can change this to soft light if u wanna but usually i just leave it on normal and lower the opacity a bit, and ur done!! cool moody look!! comparison time:

you dont have to do it as dramatically as i did, and it looks rly nice when you have soft shading, i just like the ~drama~ and ofc these are a lot of steps and it takes a hot minute (sometimes i even do more than this these is just my BASIC steps vygubhnj), so you can adapt and change and do whatever you want! at the very least i hope it gives u some ideas or bits to steal ;)

NOT THAT LIKE I’M EXPECTING ANYBODY TO BUT IF U TEST IT OUT FEEL FREE TO TAG ME!!! i wanna sEE

#sims 4 #ts4 #ts4 tutorial #this was great bc i just got to stare at nixs face for an hour or so and like thats a good time yfeel #tutorial #for my own archive purposes cfgbhjn #ANYWAY YEA HOPE U ENJOY #im rly extra w it vghbjnlk

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nothingneverforever · 5 years ago

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Never Have I Ever (2020)

Hey, I think this is my first TV series ‘review’ ever! Well I did do a basically empty post on Unforgotten (season 1) back in Feb 2017, promising to write properly my full feelings down, but that was something I never got back to. It’s still one of the best TV shows ever in the whole world, so hopefully I have time for it some day.

Anyway, meanwhile Never Have I Ever (NHIE), is… absolutely not good. At all….

I’d decided to watch it after seeing Mindy Kaling’s Late Night (2019), which was surprisingly enjoyable and moving even, and not just because Emma Thomson is one of my favourite celebrities in this world. It was a fun movie, and it felt different (from other similar films) ! I say it was surprising because I guess due to misogyny or something, I never thought I had reason to take Mindy Kaling seriously. And I am so sorry for it! There were parts of the script (Late Night) that worked out so, so well.

Back to NHIE! First, here are some synopses I’ve found online of the series:

- The complicated life of a modern-day first generation Indian American teenage girl, inspired by Mindy Kaling's own childhood.

- After a traumatic year, an Indian-American teen just wants to spruce up her social status - but friends, family and feelings won't make it easy on her

- Episode 1: After recent trauma, Devi starts her first day as a high school sophomore determined to shake off old labels and finally become cool.

So I guess my first complaint about NHIE is a bone I could pick with just about any American production from the last, idk, 8 years. You know how when (for whatever reason) every single character is ‘awkward’ or ‘weird’ or sooo idiosyncratic in general, they just end up all being… almost exactly the same? Where all the over-used tropes, every character’s too-loud too-colourful unique defining traits just end up reading the same way, to me at least.

Need all characters be so strong, really? Strong as in, overly sapid, full-bodied, clearly defined, distinct in a way that actually isn’t unique at all… I mean I’m not asking for more Jack Maliks (from Yesterday, as reviewed here by me) cos fuk dat guy omfg hate him and his dull ass lol but … do you know what I mean? When every character has traits that are so instantly recognizable, so clear to the plain eye without need for any nuanced observation or interpretation that you can almost like .. see the literal line of text in Courier font for the character description in the screenplay flashing before your eyes? Like of course as viewers we do want to feel like we have some grasp of the characters we’re investing in and relating to but I think if traits and personalities and mannerisms are so simplistic (even if they are diverse) that the characters themselves can ve perfectly summed up in a nutshell then that’s not a good thing at all.. I don’t know, it just seems a very American thing that I’m tired of, where there’s just a complete dearth of authenticity and complexity. Because no one in real life is ever sooooo distinctly themselves 100% of the time you know? Sure, I haven’t seen something specifically catered for teens in a while so maybe it’s just genre-specific thing but I do think there was so much more room for more realistic characters here.

Okay but still, 90% of all comments I have trawled through (facebook, Instagram, youtube) seem to be from American teens, talking about how relatable the show is so I guess high school teachers really be out there acting like caricatures of their TV trope selves and friends are all awkward af among each other and quirky at home and quirky on the streets walking home and quirky in the corridors of their school and exaggerate every reaction in every ordinary situation. But here’s the thing, I don’t think people are actually this way. I think many of them pretend that they are, act like they are. I think here lies the danger: where the more media we have portraying this kind of intensely saturated characters and personalities, the more young people will think that to be ‘themselves’, they have to raise the decibels of each and every trait of their own… I dunno if you understand me? I think it’s an insidious feedback cycle not dissimilar to the manic pixie dreamgirl effect, not in how women’s quirkiness serves to bring out dormant sides of men but just in how people (especially girls because due to society-enforced insecurities are more susceptible to taking influence from popular role models) have to BE SO *INSERT ANY ADJECTIVE HERE* … I don’t know… it’s just inauthentic and tiring. So NHIE is okay, as long as it is makes clear that it’s caricaturizing different examples of how some people may act in different circumstances… but it doesn’t do this. Aiyah I know I’m making a huge deal out of what some people will obviously just take as entertainment and gags for laughs etc but… it’s annoying to me…

Okay

So I’m not sure if you got this from the synopses I’d copied above, so, again: NHIE revolves around a nice girl, Devi (15), who lost her father (heart attack, in the middle of the school hall where he was watching Devi perform at her school orchestra concert) last year and is now starting a new year of school, coping with the incident by stifling every single traumatic memory. Also there are some random throwaways here and there about her having literally become physically disabled for 3 months after her father’s death where Devi lost the ability to use her legs (psychosomatic reaction to her loss) but it’s only ever joked at in insignificant ways so I guess… we shall never know that side of her grief? But all this (grieving over dead father, impersonal relationship with stern mother etc) is mere backdrop, joining other backdrop themes like being a shitty friend from start to end in unbelievably shitty ways etc – the main ‘plot’ instead is made up of Devi’s desperate quest to have sex with Paxton, a 16 year-old ‘hottie’ from school who she likes, erm, because, hot.

Yea that’s it…… that’s the critique. She’s a 15 year old girl whose everyday actions (for the most part) are calculated to lead up to her deflowering by her crush. Not to be a prude but… is this an okay storyline? Like are 15 year-olds legally allowed to have sex? Lol… Am I under any misconception about what teens all over the world get up to? No. Do I think that the law plays any useful role in preventing young girls and boys from sexualizing themselves and wasting their time on sexual pursuits when they can and should be developing literally any other interest and skill? No. Am I still unhappy that this was the main motivating factor for Devi to get up and out of her home each day, unhappy that for this reason (her goal of sleeping with Paxton), unhappy that because of this she morphed into the worst, most unreliable and unrelatable friend ever to her besties who needed her badly??? Yes!

Look, I’ve covered relevant topics in my 4 years of social work education to understand Devi’s actions as unhealthy, maladaptive coping behaviours – we see Devi exhibit behaviours / thoughts etc evocative of basically all 4 stages of the Kubler-Ross grief cycle, besides the final stage of acceptance: denial, anger, bargaining, depression. If we look at Virginia Satir’s coping stances instead, (different types of behaviours people exhibit when under stress), Devi again displays all 4 stances: super reasonable (i.e. over-rationalizing something so as to avoid confronting/acknowledging the emotional truth), irrelevant (distracting, changing the topic, inappropriate jokes), placating (self-explanatory) and blaming (again, obvious). So basically, Devi does, says and feels anything and everything besides maturely coping with the loss of her father. Is this realistic? Yes! Does everyone work within their own timelines before finally coming to that final Kubler-Ross stage of acceptance? Absolutely! And I am not at all rushing Devi to act ‘normal’ or to display healthier coping mechanisms. I just wish the grief was handled so so so much better by Mindy Kaling and whoever else was involved in developing this story - this story that is honestly full of promise. In other words, how Devi fails to handle her grief could have been written so much better, so much deeper instead of her failings itself being the central form of entertainment for much of the 10 episodes.

Anyway, also, besides it being morally not okay for a 15 year-old’s thirst for sex to be an accepted plot point (accepted on- and off-screen I mean), the actors playing Devi and Paxton are 10 years apart in age. Devi (reminder: age 15 on-screen) is played by a lovely actress who is currently 18, and Paxton is played by someone who is currently 29. So like….. she would likely have been 17 at the time of shooting? That’s just not okay and I don’t think I need say more lol. Shit like this, miscasting your key heartthrob, is just so… cheapo and so late 90s/early 2000s you know where the actors are so so clearly adults playing high schoolers, it’s just… cheapo af and absolutely inexcusable now.

Okay, everything up to this point in my ‘review’ has just been small here-and-there thoughts I had while watching it, and I’ve dedicated fluffy paragraph after paragraph on them so as to delay speaking about my main issue with the series: how the central trauma is dealt with... insomuch as it isn’t, at all.

And I’m not just saying this as someone who’s fresh off having just re-watched A Single Man, because they are obviously intended as very different works and intentionally made of (made with?) very different calibers but there are, surely, much much better ways to handle grief than what we are given with NHIE where Devi tries her darnest to have sex with her dreamboat bae. Okay so early in the series (second episode), Devi actually does get with Paxton in his garage after propositioning him (by ambushing him outside school after he finished swim practice or something), but when he takes off her shirt she’s like ok nvm I cant have sex now bye. So yea, it doesn’t happen. But it continues to be her main source of distraction from her grief, so it does remain a central plot point. Anyway the therapist character in NHIE is a joke, full of age-old TV-therapist lines like “So how do you feel about that?” etc, other platitudes and hollow-isms. She does try to tell Devi that it is not in her interest to be putting her sense of self worth on being “bangable” (I do believe this was the exact word used, cant be bothered to find the exact minute in the speicifc episode but yea trust that Devi and her therapist are candid with speaking about her plans for deflowering and Devi is never willing to talk about anything else but), but … I don’t know, Devi’s schtick gets tiresome, not because I’m neuronormative and want to see more normal behavior from the dear girl or because I’m annoyed with how badly she’s handling her grief, but more because of how badly they (writers, producers whoever etc) are handling it.

Like, up till the very end, we see her irrelevant stances or proof of her denial as fodder for lame jokes and utterly cliché dialogue, in what should be a genuine and ‘real’ scene. It’s annoying!! See below for screencaps from slightly over halfway through the FINAL episode of the series - in other words, way, way too late for a joke to be made out of how Devi resorts to the same poor coping mechanisms in distracting from her grief. I’ve screenshotted only parts of the convo, leaving out the parts where this serious convo turns into a joke about Eleanor, that itself pretends to be deep and serious but it isn’t at all...?

Devi’s friends confront her about the most serious thing in the entire series (her needing to go down to her beach to meet her mom to scatter her dad’s ashes, something she hitherto has rejected as she is unable to face this final step in accepting his death but masks with more irrelevant excuses), and she’s still coping poorly by ‘deflecting’, as her friend rightly says. I don’t know about you, but this was not a scene I needed jokes in at all.

But then, like… suddenly…. Immediately after this she starts crying and everything is good for the first time and there is acceptance within her and some semblances of healing of the fractures in her relationship with her mom etc… I dunno, it’s just not cathartic at all, because Devi hasn’t been given enough of a journey at all. The 0 to 100 thing doesn’t work here because it’s not satisfying (for us) or realistic (for Devi) at all.

Re: the grief, I dunno, if we look at another, equally popular Netflix production, The Haunting of Hill House comes to mind. Yes, obviously not at all a meaningful or fair comparison to make but again, if it’s about a family dealing with grief and loss, why can’t we expect that NHIE carry the same gravitas? In Hill House, we see our characters fumble and lash out and ‘pop off’ (a term used in NHIE which I found strangely out of place) at one another, often, but never are manifestations of their grief, never are clear mishandlings of their grief on display for our entertainment in the form of laughs or ‘cringe’ purposes. It’s just...not everything has to be funny you know? Even if it’s a teen show. I think there are ways, subtle ways, expert ways for something to be serious without at all needing to be heavy.

Again, like my gripe with the childish and/or cheap caricatures of human personalities which would be okay if this series was clearly presented as light entertainment to fill gaps in one’s day, not handling the trauma and grief could (perhaps) be overlooked if it didn’t pretend that it would in fact handle it. But everyone’s discussing the show as if it genuinely was an incredible take on dealing with loss and trauma, as if it’s contributed significantly to understandings of how a young, beautiful lovely ‘normal’ schoolgirl can live and learn through extreme trauma… BUT THE SHOW DOESN’T DO THIS LIKE IT LITERALLY DOESN’T AT ALL I FUCKING SWEAR…. Please watch all 10 episodes and show me even just ONE minute where we come full circle from anything, where Devi grows through her pain and where her journey is developed over more than just literally the last 7 minutes of screentime in the very last episode of the entire series. And I’m also seeing soooooo many comments from people who have enjoyed the series mention how fun and lighthearted it was, how comfortable they are to categorize the series as comedy and how great a time they had binge-watching it. But… it’s not funny? Like it’s really not lol… Devi is dealing with a most painful, urgent grief, having lost her father tragically a year before (and having to see him go before her very eyes). Her denial, her various-aforementioned-unhealthy-coping-mechanisms-and-maladaptive-behaviours made for painful watching for me. It shouldn’t be funny for us to see her abandon her friends when they most needed her; it shouldn’t be fun to see her lash out at her mom and dream of Paxton shirtless, these shouldn’t be comedic externalities of her situation at all. Does this mean I want an utterly dour, extremely humourless NHIE instead? Not at all! I just wish scenes / examples of her mishandling her grief were not the same ones that are supposed to make us laugh and think that everything is light and fun. Like, we can have other funny scenes featuring Devi instead you know? Things that aren’t actually incredibly harmful to her psyche.

ANYWAY

Some positives, cos I did enjoy this stupid series lollll and I did cry and I did laugh and I did look forward to watching it every evening while I exercised, okie? :)

There is one honestly genius thing that I like, where the genius lies in its utter randomness. The series (save for one episode which I will not talk about cos I don’t really give a shit about Andy Samberg and whoever his inclusion was pandering to) was narrated by John McEnroe, who, er, apparently is a well-known American tennis player. The only tennis player I know is Andre Agassi because for some reason in 2016 I borrowed from the library and read cover-to-cover his autobiography omg actually why on earth did I even do that lol I must have read somewhere that it was good perhaps? Anyway it is still recognized as one of the most ‘interesting’ or iconic sports autobiographies of all time so. But yea John McEnroe who?? He (John) is mentioned here and there as having been Devi’s late father’s favourite tennis player – which still does nothing to explain how and why he is narrating the whole series, which is great! I do enjoy the no-attempt-made to connect the fact of his narration to anything in the plot. But it’s not done in an annoyingly absurdist way either, you know? It just it what it is. I mean I guess if I’d written the screenplay which was in part autobiographical, I’d too love to have LeBron James or Megan Rapinoe narrating it, just because!

Ultimately, I think we must all acknowledge how fucking epic it is for Mindy Kaling to be where she is today. That Netflix approached her and asked for a story from her heart, drawing from her own life, and gave her the boundary-less freedom to write what she wanted is cool. She may not be the voice I think teens (or any audience really) may most need but they certainly do want this voice – NHIE is so so so loved and appreciate across the board – by adults, kids, diasporic Indian girls, normal non-minority-race girls etc, with everyone calling (begging) for another season, and anyway Mindy Kaling is probably about 1000000x better anyway than others who have been granted the same stage and presence as her before, like, I dunno, Michael fucking Bay or fucking James Cameron so yay her !!! For the sake of us all!

--------

update, a few hours later:

so since forcing Jade to read my post the second it went up, i have learnt that:

So there goes the one singular uniquely cute thing I did appreciate about NHIE then i guess, seeing as his random feature throughout the series isn’t unique at all... seeing as unexpectedness makes for a predictable part of his record, it is no longer charming to me. lol bye!

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