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Dev Patel - Blog Posts
He’s actually so real for that
the dev patel girlies have KNOWN how hot he is for years and years but the little giggle I heard from a grown man seated next to me when he took his shirt off in monkey man tells me it's truly over for everyone else. god bless
Web Shoutout: Actors on Actors
Welcome to Web Shoutout, a series highlighting interesting places in the interwebs about movies and filmmaking! (Check out the previous Web Shoutout here).
This time I want to talk about Variety’s Actors on Actors series on Youtube. These days, I think most people seem to forget that acting is an art--and a very challenging one at that. It’s easy for us to forget about that and get lost in the glitz-and-glam part of a celebrity life, because they don’t really get to talk much about the craft of acting. Most interviews that we see are either promotional interviews or a 5-minute conversation in a talk show (that undoubtedly will include a cute random trivia). Which, they’re not inherently bad but they always leave me wanting more
Distinguishing itself from those kinds of interviews, I find Actors on Actors incredibly delightful to see, if only because it brings me so much joy to see a conversation between two people that relate and respect one another. Obviously, we also get to hear in-depth stories about their experiences as an actor, the roles that they picked, and how they do their craft. I’ll just leave you a with several videos to enjoy, and also don’t forget to take a look at their channel and Actors on Actors playlist.
1. Ryan Reynolds and Taraji P Henson - Full Conversation
2. Andrew Garfield and Amy Adams - Why Playing Spider-Man Broke Andrew Garfield’s Heart
3. Octavia Spencer and Dev Patel - Full Conversation
4. Benedict Cumberbatch and Edward Norton - Full Conversation
Subscribe to Variety’s channel.
cheeni aur mirchi...😍
Home to home (Monkey Man Kid X Reader)
A/n: that scene where his ptsd got triggered.
didn't know what to tittle this so it's based in the song I listened to while I'm wriitng:
He can't breathe
He can't breathe
Fuck!
He can't fucking breathe!
In through the nose. Out through mouth, Kid.
Breathe, you big baffoon! You've done this before, a million fucking time, BREATHE!
"Fuck!" he raged next to the dumpster, his throat is closing up. He feels his lungs falling apart. Stupid cigarettes!
Fuck this can't be it, this can't be how he goes.
He looks down at what he assumes to be his hands, are they? They're too blurry, shit is it his hands shaking making them blurry? Is it his eyes?
He needs to breathe
He needs to fucking breathe
He needs to
He needs..
You
He needs you
Kid reached into his back pocket, feeling a cold metal object against his fingertips he just fished them out. Hoping that it is his phone. By pure luck he tried searching for you contact number, pressing the phone to his ear desperately after
He hears it ring
Fuck what time is it?
How long has it been?
A month? Two months? Since he told you his stupid desire to seek out his mother's murderers?
'you can't do this to me, Kid. We fought so fucking hard! Remember? The orphanage, the poverty. We were homeless at some point! You can't-you can't up and leave when we're finally stable like this,'
he remembers your frantic eyes searching into his empty ones. You're desperate to keep him in this life, this dream you two built together. The guilt of surviving yet not avenging his mother's death left a heavy feeling in his chest, so heavy he spent weeks on the bed, barely leaving, eating, taking care of himself. It was you, you took care of him.
And he decided to get on his feet and throw everything out for revenge.
Ungrateful bastard.
He hears the phone rang. Why is it still ringing? You wouldn't have the heart to leave him hanging... Right?
'I swear, Kid, I won't search for you if you step out of that door.' fuck that's right, you swore-
"hello?" your voice drowsy with sleep. He can imagine it, your hair spilled everywhere on that floral pillow, sleeping in one of his big shirt with only some shorts under. Eyes barely open.
"hello? Don't play with me right now, I'm sleepy as fuck." the irritation in your voice makes it clear that you didn't open your eyes to see the caller ID.
He called your name, fighting against the dryness of his throat.
"Kid? What time is it? Are you okay? What's going on?" he could hear you waking up by each word you said. "why are you breathing like that, are you hurt?"
He didn't even realise the wheezing he was making.
"can't.. Breathe.." he croaked out.
"Kid? Baby, hey, follow me, huh? Breathe in through your nose, hold, out through your mouth."
He's been repeating that to himself but somehow when you do it, it works, he could finally breathe at least a little. You guided him multiple times until he thinks he's stable enough.
"where are you? Queenie's hotel?" of course you knew, when he told you about his plan he told you everything. No matter how angry you are at him you remember everything he says.
Kid nods before realising you can't see him. "yeah.." he keeps trying to steady his breath. "I'm coming."
"cheeni, no-"
"shut up, I'm coming," he heard the final stern tone in your voice and didn't bother fighting back.
He stayed on the phone the whole time, staring out somewhere, his breathing even but mind is as messy as a jungle. He realised you stayed on the phone too. He only murmured a few words when you asked him where he was
He had no idea how long he was sitting on that curb.
"Kid, hey," your voice reel half of him back into the cold night. You have your hand cupping his cheek, trying to get him to look at you.
"hey, I'm here,"
He sighed when he felt the familiar pattern, a kiss to the forehead, another to the nose and two for the lips. Your fingers buried in his curls. "hey, bandhar, you hear me?" he finally looked at you.
"I saw.. My maa in her." he whispered, eyes locked with yours. You had no idea who he was referring to but you nodded. "okay, come on, baby." you simply said, trying to get him on his own feet. "you finished your shift?"
He simply nodded. Wordlessly got onto his feet, clutching onto your waist.
"I saw maa," his head hung low, curls covering his face, his tall figure that always seems to stand unapologetically is slumped.
You cupped his cheek with one had, brushing your thumb against his cheek.
"bandhar, look at me." you called sweetly, trying to get his attention. He finally lifted his head to look at you, his once slicked back hair had return to their original floof.
Though you do realise his hair is a little dry.
"how about you get on my bike hm? I'll take you home. Get you something to eat, run a cold shower, we'll lay down together and you can tell me about your day." you looked at him, his eyes never left your. Both of your hands had cupped his cheek at this point.
"i can go home?" his vouce sounded so tiny, unlike the man you know. You nodded and planted a kiss on his forehead
"of course baby, anytime," you simply said, heart breaking that he thought you'd be so cruel to deny him of his own home.
He didn't say much the whole ride, just hugged you from behind tightly, buried his face into your neck, letting the wind go through his hair.
Once you're home you guided him by his hand. He just mindlessly followed. You changed him, gave him a cup of water and now end up on the bed with him, his face laying on your stomach, basically draping over you like a blanket.
"I saw her," he whispered, hating how insane he sounded. "heard her screams again," he continues. Running your fingers through his soft hair, you felt guilty, what were you thinking? Letting a man with severe PTSD and survivor guilt roam around by himself after admitting that he has thoughts on revenge? And the fact that he was barely leaving the bed 3 weeks prior. That's an obvious red flag.
You took his hand and kissed his palm, letting him say what he needs to, letting him come back to you as he wants to.
"I'm sorry," you quietly say, caressing his hand. Kid looks up to you confused.
"I should've tried to understand you, instead I blew it out of proportion and argued with you, asking you to choose resulting in you leaving? It's so stupid" you continued.
Kid shook his head, he drew circles on your hip, his head laid back on your stomach. "you have your own issues too. I knew... About your families just up and abandoning you, fleeing the country and stuffs and in a way maybe you see me putting myself at risk as leaving you," his said, eyebrows furrowed, deep in thought.
You hummed, playing with his hair again. Twirling one of the curls that strayed.
"I guess when you meet at an orphanage you just kind of have baggage," you tried joking but he nodded, taking it seriously. "it's true," and he turned to look at you, pushing himself up.
Repeating the pattern you both have been doing since you were 16, just two orphans sneaking kisses around in the orphanage, one kiss on the forehead, one for the nose and twice on the lips.
"im glad I met you, you're the only good thing that came out of this whole thing. You're my anchor, you know that?" he asked, kissing you after. You've missed this, the pressure of his kiss on your lips.
You smiled, caressing his cheek softly. "you're my whole world," you replied, smile flattening. "you promise, you won't leave? You won't take these unnecessary risks?" you cant go through another month of not knowing what he was doing. Worry that he might have fuck with the wrong people and end up dead at the side of the street of Mumbai somewhere.
He nodded and kissed your forehead, his fingers tracing circles on your soft stomach. "I promise, cheeni, I promise,"
love...
Holy shit y'all I can't breathe bitch gimme an inhaler—
just saw the movie....want this tortured baby so i can heal him 😭
Late Night Mends
Pairing: Kid (Monkey Man) x reader
Word count: 2.1K
Warning: 18+ MDNI, mentions of anxiety, injuries, not a lot of spice, some fluff, not proof/beta read lol, does not contain spoilers for Monkey Man.
Note: Absolutely am in love with Dev Patel, he adores the world and fandom love! Also special mention to my friend @mittos who helped with this prompt/story ideas. Go and see Monkey Man if you haven't already! And if you have go and see it again! Also jaan is a Hindi term of endearment. Also can we take a moment for Dev Patel's side profile?! Comments, and reblogs are always appreciated as well! I hope you enjoy!
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It was late, extremely late. It had been a slow night but it was quickly becoming the latest it had ever been without his tired, bloody presence. It made you uncomfortable how late it was becoming, he never took this long to show up after a big match. You bit your nails as you couldn’t help but think about the possibility of where he was and scarily, what condition he was in.
It was a risky field that Kid was in, especially when he was the losing dog for the overeager, sweaty crowd not to bet on. He took the punches and rarely complained about it, you’d only ever been to one of his fights before and never again. It was too painful to watch, you’d bitten each of your fingernails right down to the beds, and you swore that it gave you a few grey hairs. If you had any, each of them could be traced back to being his fault, you were sure. You loved him, truly adored him, but he certainly knew how to stress you out.
You’re sitting down waiting for him to arrive. You don’t even realise that you’ve put your hand up to your face to bite your nails but now you know that you must’ve as you’ve been subconsciously biting them as you look out the window waiting, lost in your thoughts. You could think and use that as a distraction but no, the more you think or gaze off, the more you think about him, worry about him and overanalyse every little thing to be analysed, including what would need a magnifying glass to do so. You sigh and rub your face tiredly and also as another poor attempt at a distraction to take your mind away from him.
It was a ridiculous thought, nothing could distract you from him, Kid lived rent-free in your mind 24/7, no matter what you did or wanted. And now was his prime time for filling your head.
You rub your face some more and then look up, you can hear the door quietly open and the sound of gentle footsteps start to make their way to you. You look up as you try to glimpse the start of his lean shadow to confirm that he’s really, really, finally here. The light switch turns on as you see his arm stretch out and then he’s standing there in your doorway.
You look up at him as he stands, he just looks at you for a moment. His gorgeous doe-eyes are wide, he looks exhausted and defeated but there’s a small smile on his face as his eyes meet yours. Ever since you’d known Kid, he had always been a man of few words, which seemed to balance out just how expressive his handsome face was. You liked that though, that his eyes truly were the window to his soul. You did like his voice though as well, you’d have no problem with him using it more. Sometimes he would talk though, about his sweet mother, the stories of Hanuman that his mother had told him and that had vividly stuck with and inspired him still.
You quickly take him in, there’s sweat in his hair, a cut in his cheek, and his knuckles are bloody as always. You bite your lip as you look at him, chewing over your words so you don’t come across as either a scolding lover or treating him like a patient.
“Your hands…” You finally say as he steps closer to you and you can see that he made some attempt to cover them with a bit of cloth but the blood is all over his right hand.
“It’s fine.” He says in a soft whisper, his voice is melodic as always but a little hoarse and deep. He looks down at his hand he tries not to flinch when you take his hand and it’s further proof that no, it really isn’t fine. You sigh and move his hand to check his fingers, it causes discomfort but based on the movement you know it’s not broken at least. It was genuinely impressive that he was still alive, still functioning and not just with everything he’d been through as a young boy, but with the amount of beatings he’d taken at the club. That he’d somehow avoided major damage to his body, that his handsome looks were still intact, and also his teeth. That was a big surprise you had to admit.
“Sit down.” You look at him with a look of concern, one that he doesn’t like. “Come on, I’ll clean it up.” You say softly. He runs his right hand, his good hand through his damp but perfect locks and he sighs, sitting down, waiting for you to fix his wounds and to feel your tender touch.
You’d had the first aid kit ready to go, sitting on the floor waiting for his entrance. You always used it, he always needed it. Your medical background certainly helped, some nights you’d crack a joke that that was the only reason why he was with you. The first time you made that joke his eyes widened at first, and he immediately stuttered to try and reassure her that that wasn’t the case. He didn’t realise that it was a joke. You’d kissed him to reassure him and he kissed you back so sweetly. Now when you made the joke he’d just look at you and give you a small, precious chuckle. You just want to make him smile, make him laugh, bring him joy, and make him feel safe. He deserved that at the very least, especially with his gigantic hug.
His hand clearly had taken the worst of it, you hold it gently in yours, and his hand twitches for a moment. He’s spent most of his life being devoid of affection. He craved a gentle touch, to feel seen and safe in the company of another. He’d started to find that with you, in the way you looked at him, how you carefully held his hand in arms when cleaning an injury and wrapping it up. You somehow had never noticed it, he figured it was because of how attentive you were to his injuries, to him, and his lips quirked up into a secret smile you’d miss over the irony of you not noticing this because of how attentive you were being to him.
“You were later than usual.” You say as you clean his bruised and bloodied knuckles.
“I know.” He whispers as he looks up at you, he’s tired but there’s a small smile on his lips as he knows the scolding is incoming, just what degree is it going to be from you tonight, is the question.
“I was worried, my fingernails are almost as bloody as your knuckles because of how much I was biting them.” You say as you try to clean his hand gently, noting how his hand occasionally twitches in response.
“Would’ve been quite a match.” He whispers before he looks at your hands, noticing your nervously bitten nails. His cheeks heat up as he can’t help but feel a little bit of guilt about causing you to worry so, he’s spent so much of his life without someone who cares about him like this. You sigh and roll your eyes at his response.
“You’re going to be the cause of every single grey hair I have in this lifetime.” You say as you treat the knuckle wounds, making sure you’re gentle. “All I do is worry, you spend every night getting beaten, thrown off tables. It’s going to be too much one day. Something will go wrong. Then what?” Kid can’t help but look up at you, it’s a conversation that’s happened more than a few times. “What if it’s your spine or something? I won’t be able to fix that-” “It’s okay. It’s fine. I’m okay, jaan.” He says as he looks up at you, his big brown eyes are widened and he’s looking at you with his sad puppy dog eyes, he feels bad for making you worry so much.
You sigh, biting your lip as you try to stop yourself from saying anything else. He’s too sweet and so you nod and finish cleaning and bandaging everything. After a moment, you cup his cheek as you look at his warm eyes and you go to get him some water to drink. He watches you and continues to as he drinks the water. You two have become quite good at playing a game of watching each other, almost like it’s a sport to observe the other.
He looks at you, tilting his head which tousles the gorgeous locks he has a little. You sigh and run a hand through his soft brown curls, damp with sweat but somehow miraculously not blood. His hair has always been absolutely perfect. You feel bad for essentially venting your anxieties at him right as he’s come from a long night of work at the club.
“I only scold because I care.” You say but you’re not sure if it’s him or yourself that you’re trying to convince more as you say the words, but it’s true technically. “It’s a form of doting really.” You say as you look at him as he adjusts in his seated position, looking up at you with his wide, doe-eyed orbs. Even if it was a form of doting, you could never stay mad at him for long when having to look into those gorgeous eyes. They’d melt away any troubles and you’re sure if awards were given out for best brown eyes, he’d win. You hated that he did this, that this was how he had to get by. That he had to take these awful, unhealthy beatings but you love him anyway.
He was freshly bandaged now, he moved his hand up and Kid started to slowly caress your cheek, he traced some invisible line so gently with the pads of his fingertips as he looked at you. His doe eyes were filled with adoration and peacefulness as he concentrated on your beauty. You let him, it was soothing and sweet and you had no reason to even consider stopping this. You were his and he was yours.
Your eyes glance down at his fingers, and then you put a hand up to cup his cheek and look into the most beautiful eyes you could ever imagine seeing. After he feels your touch his eyes quickly close and he inhales. He isn’t sure if he’ll ever get used to the feeling of your fingers on his face, of how your hair feels against his skin, or your breath, but he knows for sure, that he’ll at least never tire of it.
His fingers glide down do your mouth and he traces your lips as he looks at them. He tilts his head and before he can even move, you’ve moved your head to press your lips together. There’s something about how gentle his hands are with you, how they feel even after everything that has happened to him and that he does. How it just takes a glance at you for him to melt into a puddle.
You put your hand back into his hair and run it through his curls as he kisses you back and the kiss deepens almost immediately. He cups your cheek gently as your lips move together in sync and you can’t help but start to tug his locks a little and his hand moves to your waist to hold you close against him. You continue to play and tug his hair as his lips move down your chin and jaw and he kisses your neck. You gasp out and tug on his hair a bit more as you feel his breath tickle your throat between his passionate kisses. You struggle to not let out a giggle as he does this and you feel your cheeks heating up as you tilt your head back so your neck is as exposed as possible for him while he kisses your throat and makes his way to your collarbone.
He always gets like this, and so quickly. He just needs a little touch, the reassurance of you being there and he feels an all-consuming need to make up for the years of loneliness, the lack of affection, the lack of physical contact outside of a fight he was guaranteed to lose. He has you in his arms and it’s something right for once, if it was a game this would be a victory, some kind of peace.
sir? sorry. sir?
