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Pssst, I miss you all. Hope everyone is well and living their best lives

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Gregg Sulkin

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MAYA HAWKE as ROBIN BUCKLEY in STRANGER THINGS 4 (2022)

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HALSTON SAGE as Kate in DAUGHTER OF THE BRIDE (2023)

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Quincy kept eating and listened though he hadn't-- well he hadn't actually expected her to answer, let alone this extensively. He figured she'd laugh it off, at most shove him hard in the shoulder and call him a perve for still thinking about it. She wouldn't be bold enough to tease him more than that, to directly call out he wasn't purely curious for scientific reasons. He told himself it was that. Science. Because he and Tempest, again, best friends, nothing more than that, nothing less. But fuck-- the more she talked, the more...irritated he got. Because the fuck? He knew there were knuckle draggers out there bigger than him that compensated for their tiny dicks by pretending they were too good to bother with actually pleasing a woman. As if their delusional confidence really made their pleasure more important. And it was irritating. Really fucking irritating.

His jaw flexed, stuffing a dumpling or two into his mouth to temper the heat building in his neck. She deserved better. So much better. The fluctuation in heaviness didn't help. Irritation bubbled into some sort of simmering anger for her, one he only kept the lid on as to not interrupt, to not blow up the choir or whatever. That and he'd known, he found the meaning when she'd asked him for the design and he knew his anger, in this moment, would just make all this about him. It wasn't. And she was answering a question, not asking him to take up some nonexistent battle against the pricks in her past.

Though-- that thought. It sparked something and as she finished, he woofed down another bao bun, "Well. That's that then. It's settled," he said, wiping his hands on his jeans, "I'll give you something to compare it to. Why tell, when I can show you, right?" The words are casual, but his insides feel anything but. But he decided to take a page out of the delusional handbook as he smirked, head canting as his eyes stay on hers, "It doesn't have to be anything more than that or weird...but fuck, Tempe, you deserve more than not bad," he chuckled, leaning on the table once more, "I give you full permission to fantasize I'm-- whoever it is you fantasize about and I'll enjoy giving you something life changingly smut worthy. What do you say?"

“6/10? When there’s chilli oil right there?” She protests, loudly— at an (unfair) slight against the spring rolls. “Lazy—dip em next time—“ She scoffs softly before stealing a cha siu bao from a box in front of him. The first bite pulls a soft, delighted moan from her—because there’s no real reason anything should be that good. She chews slowly, a smile on her lips. “I need this in my life, every day. I’d be smilier to strangers. A delight—actually. 12/10.” She’s contemplating the food in front of her, trying to decide the next delight to go in her mouth when he asks her the question. It hangs there in the air between them, and she feels the energy change, shift dangerously into territory she was trying to avoid. She looks up, and meets his gaze, warm soft brown on ocean blue— and she holds it, doesn’t look away, doesn’t run from the odd way her stomach twists.

“Well no— it’s not bull shit.” Her cheeks are hot--and she thanks god for the fact that her skin makes it hard to tell, just how affected she is by the question— or by him. She glances at the dumplings in front of her and tries to construct an answer. “I— I’ve had exactly 2 boyfriends. None of them… really bothered with that. I mean— the sex was satisfactory, I think. But they didn’t really… it was for them. Not for me.” She picks another Cha siu bao, because she’s fucking earned it, for having to talk through her lack of experience. She’d spent too much of her life, trying to stay alive and by the time she settled into college, she’d been determined to be normal. Which meant losing her virginity in a tiny twin bed with some boy who fancied himself in love with her. “And then— well— things happened. And I wasn’t really interested in having sex for a while. And then— I had a couple of one night stands— god—just—no.“ She laughs softly and shakes her head. “I was trying to figure out…. What felt good for me. Or if… I could…. And one of them went down on me. But— it wasn’t good. Not bad just... not good. From what I’ve read it’s meant to be… life changing and uh— my life was not changed.” She takes a bite of the bao, and chews, thinking—contemplating. “I don’t think sex with strangers is… for me though. So that might be it, too. I mean I just— I disassociate sometimes. And telling strangers why I do, feels a little less casual, you know. Most...people don't really want to know anyway. It’s… unnecessary baggage for someone who’s just trying to have a good time. Or so I've been told.” She changes her voice then, mimics the ass hole who’d taken one look at the medusa tattoo on her hip and volunteered that as a response.

“Um— but yes— to answer your question, properly. It was the one time. Nothing to compare it to. And it was... so, so. So-- not bullshit.” She tries not to think about it, about the easy way he'd mentioned eating girls out-- or the fact that she was certain he'd never left anyone disappointed--at least not with that. Her eyes drift to his mouth, and then to his hands. Heat, more heat--so much she's unsure her body can contain it. She gives him a playful smile, forces the image of him between her thighs, with his eyes on hers as he takes her apart-- out of her mind-. She finishes her bao, as a reward, for managing to make it through the question without combusing. She meets his gaze again, a question in hers. "You-- um-- you enjoy doing that right? It's not normally.... like that... is it? Like is it as good as I....think? Or am I reading too much smut?"

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say don’t go - taylor swift

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Savannah didn't need to see Luci's face to know how terrified she was right now. She could feel it. That change in the air. Thick. The pressure of it tightening her chest as the man-- men, became clear. It took a second to register who they were and what was happening. She recognized one immediately. Luci's brother. But she hadn't exactly spoken to her father and the bishop, she hadn't dealt with him directly either. But the weight he held was obvious. She'd moved quick enough he must not have seen, otherwise she guessed they'd be having a much different conversation. One she wasn't currently interrupting, despite the heat that flooded her as Luci all but broke out into sobs. Though...that might've helped the story she was so desperately trying to sell. Savannah held her tongue though. Smothering her ire and just...waiting for the right moment to speak, one that wouldn't bury Luci deeper into the hole they'd dug.

"Enoch..." Micah repeated, his tone holding a note of questioning before it hardened, "Enoch is permitted in these woods to collect firewood amongst other things. You, Lucinda, have no business here. Perhaps if you were not out idling you would not find yourself in such a precarious situation," A scoff followed, not from Micah, that much was certain as his eyes cut to her brother, who was drawing closer. Savannah wet her lips, easing her stance because yeah, she didn't want any of these fuckers getting too close, didn't want to not protect Luci from whatever this was, but again, she knew better. In this case, protecting her was not protecting her.

"It does not look swollen," her brother spoke as Savannah relented, barely shifting enough for him to get close, crouching to look at his sister's ankle. He opened to speak again, but Savannah beat him to it.

"I just finished up with horses and was taking a walk along the property line, when I heard her cry out. Couldn't have been more than ten, fifteen minutes ago. I didn't want her ta move till we could tell how bad it was. Ain't been long enough to swell so no tellin what I was lookin at. I wanted to leave to get help, but--" Savannah glanced back at Luci a moment, her expression soft, "She was in such a state, I couldn't leave her, figured Enoch would be back through or I'd get her calm enough to help her back home. Whichever came first,"

Her brother narrowed his eyes, flicking her skirt back down, covering her up even though the water was sure to soak the hem of it. His eyes went to his father, who was silent though Savannah swore she saw his jaw muscle twitch, "How this happened is not of importance. The verity is you are not where you should be. It is unbecoming and unacceptable for you to be so aimless when you have a home and hearth to tend to. The rest is fruitless," Micah's voice was cold as her brother took her arm and Savannah had to swallow her voice, the words she stifled feeling like glass. "Do you have anymore to say for yourself, Lucinda?"

her stomach flipped, and not in a good way. she was so invested in giving savannah her everything that she hadn't heard the footsteps, and almost didn't hear the voice either. had it not been for savannah's quick reaction, she probably would've ignored it entirely.

luci jumped back with savannah, her face floating behind the blonde's shoulder as the man became clear. white hot panic shot through her belly. not her husband, no, but someone worse.

"micah," she said, unable to hide the tremble in her voice when he questioned her. behind him two more figures emerged; her father and her eldest brother. this had not been a matter of happenstance, but a search party lead by the bishop. it seemed she was no longer permitted to be such an unruly wife. her heart turned to ice.

she looked around them, trying to figure out a way to explain the sight before them. "i fell-- i twisted my ankle," she attempted to lie, gesturing to her boots on the ground. "savannah-- she-" lucinda gulped, hot tears of panic rising in her eyes. "she was the only one who could her my cries, i-- i tried to get home," her lungs felt like they had shrunk three sizes. "i tried to call for enoch... i tried," she whimpered, her eyes wide with fright.

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"Gee, ya think?" Sarcasm practically dripped and if it had, he was sure the toxicity of it all would've burned a hole right through the floor. So she didn't know either. Ok. Proved she was just crazy. Gripping at something she 'couldnt' have even if it was nothing she'd want in the long run. Crazy and stupid. And fucking irritating. But Quincy didn't pull back as she actually sat down and tucked into herself. He almost felt bad for her. He had a moment ago...scaring her hadn't been his intention. Now she just looked kinda pathetic and there it was-- that sass. "Never said you'd know everything. No fun in that,"

Arms crossed over his chest, another sigh escaping as he tried to brace himself. If he was actually entertaining this delusion of hers of actually getting to know each other, which he wasn't, he wouldn't want that. He'd want to be with someone, friend or otherwise, that was always growing. Changing. Always something new to discover about them and yet consistent in a way that felt-- he was getting ahead of himself. Way fucking ahead. Because he wasn't entertaining this. Not past whatever three puddle deep questions Diana had for him.

An eyebrow rose before eyes narrowed. "Pain. Sex. Pain and sex," Next. Yeah. That was all the information he'd give. Short and sweet. And yet, there was a gnawing feeling in the back of his mind. No doubt that same tut of his sister's, that reminder that Diana were her..."I create to get out of my head. A lot of what I think and feel.. I can't...I don't have words for it, so I just-- paint. Subject matter varies, but the act of painting, the physicality of leaving the types of marks I do, it helps," A shrug and Quincy scratched the bridge of his nose, feeling-- ugh. Whatever it was, he didn't exactly like it. But he said three questions. He couldn't punk out after just one. "Alright. Next,"

Why she was throwing all this information at him didn't make sense to Diana either. Maybe it was so she could move on from him knowing she didn't leave anything left unsaid or a desperate attempt to keep him in her life. At the same time it was scary because she really had never felt emotions like this for anyone in her life before Quincy. "If it helps, it doesn't make sense to me either. I just know that I like being around you even if you're being mean to me. Sound so fucking toxic." She huffed running her hands over her face wishing she could just bury her feelings for him but that hadn't worked obviously or she wouldn't be saying these things to him now.

With a she did as she was told sitting back down on the couch immediately pulling her knees to her chest turning wrapping her arms around herself while looking at him. Diana could feel her eyes widen at his words, hating to hear the reality of her actions. "It's not blood money," she murmured under her breath annoyed at him even thinking like that with her. Then at his allowance of three questions it was hard not to roll her eyes. "Yeah cause you learn everything about someone with three questions Quincy," she sighed buying time to let her really think about what she wanted to ask him. "I want to know more about your ideas for this creative space thing. I don't know much but I'm also not going to waste my questions." She teased laughing softly rolling her eyes at him again. "But I do want to know more about your own creative side, so Quincy. For my first question, what inspires you to create?"

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It was brief, an accident for sure, but Quincy felt the graze of his lip. The gesture made him inhale slightly, quick, and instinctively wet them as he felt-- something he had no fucking business feeling. He'd blame it on the previous conversation. Those thoughts of eating and her and her not...and yeah. It suddenly felt like a lot. Which he promptly squashed into nothing because yeah. No fucking business with that. This was Tempe. Not some random he could just fantasize about all loose and half cocked. Quincy followed her suggestion, letting his mouth hang open as he refocused on the hot dumpling and his burnt tongue. It helps. Letting out the heat. Keeping his brain from wandering? Eh. Not as much as he like.

That help came in the form of routine. What she might call a quiet dance he'd call a series of practiced strokes. The underpainting of one of his favorite styles executed by sheer muscle memory. No piece was every the same of course, just as none of their nights together ever were. But they began like this, the two of them working in tandem in a way that had him quietly smiling as he plopped into his seat to take the spring rolls. He's no chef, not even close, and his palette isn't even as close as refined as Tempest's, but he snags a bite, feigning a contemplative look, cause why not? "Eh. Not enough kick. 6/10," Not that it stopped him from hoovering the rest of it before reaching for an untouched box and no doubt his favorite, cha siu bao, "Fuck-- it's like eatin a cloud full of deliciousness. Every fucking time," he sighed, mouth still half full. He swallowed though, remembering the game at hand, "11 outta 10. Easy." He hummed just as happily, trying the har gao with sauce next, "Mmm yeah. Ok. 10/10," He can't help but watch her a moment as he grabs up another spring roll, his head tilting slightly, "Did you mean that? What you said earlier about not having anything to compare...that's bullshit, right?"

It came out casually, in the form of his elbow resting on the table, biting the spring roll with another hum though his insides were rearranging, the thoughts of ranking and comparisons and cannibalism all tumbling around till he couldn't help but just-- it didn't hurt to clarify, right? She'd volunteered it the first time, right? So. It only made sense to ask and if she didn't wanna say, well that was that. He'd deal. No answer would be his answer. But he let his blue eyes hold her brown for just a sec before resting on the food before them. You know. Just in case whatever it was made her skittish.

Sometimes, when it is just them, the world seems to slow, and shift. Into something warmer, softer and wholly theirs. It happens without prodding, sneaks up on Tempest as she falls in step with him, down chilly streets, impervious to the wind. "You can have little spoon..." She sighs dramatically--as if she's put out. "Because I'm so generous--" But the smile on her face is unwavering. She hates surprises--as a rule. When she was young, a surprise meant talking her mother off a roof ledge, or dumpster diving in restaurant bins because her mother had convinced herself all their food was poisoned. Surprise rarely ended well for her. Except with Quincy. She trusts his surprises--and his silences, and let's him have whatever the mysterious part 13 of her apology is without any fuss.

She feeds him without prodding, pops the dumpling into his mouth and bites back a laugh as he cursed the piping-hot morsel. "I literally just burnt my tongue--" she gestures to her mouth, an easy smile on her lips. She gets him another and lifts it to his lips. This time her fingers brush against his bottom lip, it's accidental contact-- but there's something oddly intimate about the lack of space and the act of feeding. "Keep your mouth open for a second helps the steam get out--" She laughs off the gentle way her heart seems to skip a beat. The lift comes to a halt and she follows him out and into his flat.

They move around the space with almost choreographed efficiency. Slip off shoes, wash hands, unload food, grab water, sit at table. A quiet dance of routine she'd admit she had missed over the past few weeks. She ignores the chopsticks and goes for her hands every time, and the look of glee on her face at the site of the dumplings borders on manic (and slightly worrying). She takes a piece of siu mai out of one of the boxes, and grins at her first bite of the dumpling. "I'm so happy right now. I could die--right this second and I'd be content." She hums softly as she picks another box and unveils spring rolls. She glances at him across the table. "Ranking game? Ranking game." It's a stupid thing she'd started with arabella--and later quincy, taking bites of things and ranking them-- at first it had been during the cafe's experimental phase, in a kitchen full of boxes-- trying to figure out if something worked or not. It had mostly led to loose belt buttons and expansive menus.

"Sui Mai, 10/10. Every time." She takes a contemplative bite of the spring roll, and hums as she chews. "Good crunch. 8/10." She shakes the box of them in his direction. "Try that one next." She's always liked to share, it's a hold over from having a sibling, and food being one of her love languages. She smiles as she picks up another box, prawn dumplings this time. "I'd missed this." She admits quietly, before dipping the har gao into the sauce and popping the dumpling in her mouth. "Oooh. 10/10."

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JEREMY ALLEN WHITE for Entertainment Weekly (November 2023)

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JEREMY ALLEN WHITE for Entertainment Weekly (November 2023)

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Those few words shouldn't have had the effect they did. Syd should have been able to temper those feelings by now. It'd been ages since they began and about as long since she realized nothing was ever coming of it. Just-- not in the cards. And she should have been able to truly acknowledge that now. She'd blame it in the fact that Willa wouldn't be just romantically out of reach, but like, legit out of reach, for god only knows how long. It made her heart ache and warm all at once, bittersweet indeed. "Right, I'll be nice and let you play passenger princess for our last hurrah, you're welcome," she said with a chuckle, leading Willa out to her car. It didn't take long before they were on the road and just a little longer than that before they were leaving the little town behind in favor of gravel roads and flat expanses of dust and dirt, "So tell me, written any new songs or are you going with classics?"

Willa's light hues narrowed in on Sydney before rolling softly at her words. "Ha ha, you're so funny," she spoke dryly. But even then, her gaze flickered to her friend and she couldn't stop the smile tugging at her lips. Because really, she wouldn't trade a moment with Syd. Not a second. "I don't know if I'd say you manage just fine, but you're a helluva lot better at it than most." She replied with a grin, her shoulders shrugging slightly. "But sure. I'll take a toast. To fun, friends and stupidity." She added, clinking her shot against Syd's before downing the liquid. There was a somber feeling that rushed over her as the clear liquid slipped down her throat. It was bittersweet, knowing she was going away for a while. Music was picking back up and Willa needed to grab her chance while she still could. But leaving behind people like Syd wasn't exactly something she was fond of. "We're good to go!" Excitement fell from her lips as she leaned up and wrapped her arms around Syd, giving her a squeeze. "Now, lead the way, beautiful."

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friendly reminder that even if i take ages to reply, i still want to roleplay with you

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The last week or so has really been an adjustment. My energy levels have been low but I hope to get to drafts a few at a time each day. Thanks for y’all’s patience!