CAMILA MORRONE Via Instagram

"  i  bet  you're  not  going  to  believe  me  if  i  say  that  one  of  my  cast  mates  is  a  massive  hockey  fan  ,  right  ?  look  —  ice  hockey  isn't  a  big  deal  in  the  uk.  i'm  intrigued  okay  ?  you  can't  blame  me.  plus  ,  you  always  seem  to  notice  i'm  there  so  it's  not  like  you're  complaining  now  ,  is  it  ?  "

˖ ࣪ . ࿐ ♡ ˚ . ↪ closed for @velvetysage ˖ ࣪ . ࿐ ♡ ˚ .

"i've seen you at practically every game, can't tell if you're a big fan of the game or a stalker at this point."

Hannah Dodd as Francesca Bridgerton — behind the scenes of Bridgerton S4

Only Murders in the Building (2021-present) To Protect and Serve (S01E06)

"  trust  me,  the  last  thing  i  want  to  be  doing  is  wasting  my  energy  on  you.  hate  ?  actually  ,  how  about  extremely  aggravating  and  borderline  intolerable  ?  you  seem  pretty  good  at  ruining  your  own  day,  so  i  guess  that’s  a  talent.  no  need  for  me  to  step  in.  "

˖ ࣪ . ࿐ ♡ ˚ . ↪ closed for @velvetysage ˖ ࣪ . ࿐ ♡ ˚ .

"for someone who claims that they hate me so much, you surely do enjoy staring at me.. did you need something? or did you just pop up to ruin my day?"

she  should  go.  she  knew  that.  her  workout  was  already  mapped  out  in  her  head—every  set,  every  rep—but  standing  there,  his  arms  lazily  draped  around  her,  the  gym  didn’t  feel  quite  as  important.  céleste  curled  her  fingers  loosely  around  the  smoothie,  her  focus  entirely  elsewhere.  the  way  he  lingered,  the  way  his  lips  brushed  against  her  cheek  like  he  wasn’t  quite  ready  to  let  go  either—it  did  something  to  her.  his  laugh  hummed  low  in  his  chest,  settling  over  her  like  something  warm,  something  steady.  and  for  a  moment,  she  forgot  all  about  the  godforsaken  smoothie  she  was  about  to  pretend  didn’t  taste  like  chalk.  his  hand  motioned  toward  the  door,  an  easy,  effortless  gesture  that  brought  another  smile  to  her  lips.  for  the  first  time  in  longer  than  she  could  remember,  the  gym  wasn’t  the  first  thing  occupying  her  mind  in  the  morning.—  she  had  spent  so  long  perfecting  the  art  of  distance,  of  keeping  people  at  arm’s  length,  of  never  letting  herself  sink  too  deep  into  something  that  could  slip  through  her  fingers.  yet,  here  she  was  as  he  opened  the  door  for  her  like  it  was  second  nature—like  looking  after  her  was  something  he  did  without  thought.  and  that  was  the  thing.  it  wasn’t  all  the  grand  gestures  that  bowled  her  over,  it  was  this.  the  small  things,  the  moments  between  moments,  the  effortless  way  he  made  her  feel  like  she  didn’t  have  to  hold  herself  so  tightly  all  the  time.  grabbing  her  car  keys,  she  moved  to  walk  towards  the  door,  standing  before  him,  she  tilted  her  head  slightly,  her  free  hand  reaching  up  to  toy  with  one  of  his  curls,  her  eyes  locking  onto  his  before  instinctively  flickering  to  his  lips.  "you  know,"  she  murmured,  her  fingers  curling  lightly  at  the  nape  of  his  neck,  holding  onto  him  for  just  a  second  longer.  "you're  not  making  it  easy  for  me  to  step  out  this  door."  then,  she  closed  the  space  between  them,  pressing  her  lips  against  his.  the  warmth  of  him  pulled  her  in,  that  familiar  sensation  of  pure  bliss  intoxicating  her  like  second  nature.  she  let  herself  melt  into  him  for  a  moment,  into  the  way  he  made  everything  else  fade  into  the  background.  when  she  finally  pulled  back,  she  let  her  eyes  stay  closed  for  another  second,  savoring  it.  then,  with  a  small  smirk,  she  whispered,  "think  the  leg  press  might  be  upset  if  i  cancel  our  date.  i'll  see  you  when  i  get  back,  yeah?"

the electrifying feeling of her lips against his cheek, was one that he hoped never dulled. he offered her the horrid excuse of a drink with his arms coming to lazily wrap around her. rather than go to the gym (he'd rather drop dead), he would suffer silently with her gone for the time being. "if it's nasty, just don't tell me." he laughs, returning the kiss to her cheek with rose tinted lips lingering before he pulls away to let her go. "let me walk you out." he grabs his hoodie off the back of the couch, tossing it over himself to protect him from the unforgiving winter air. he then made his way to hold the door open for her, his hand coming to motion her.

ELLA PURNELL Biting Sophie Nélisse behind the scenes on Yellowjackets S03E03

for a long moment, penny doesn’t move. she just stares. at the sheer audacity of drew standing there , draped in borrowed clothes that don’t fit , wearing that same infuriating grin — like she hasn’t been missing for two weeks. like she hasn’t left penny to spiral , to wonder, to reach for a silence that never broke. her heart is still hammering against her ribs , the remnants of panic still thick in her bloodstream , fourteen days of unanswered questions pressing down on her like a weight she can’t shake. and then drew starts talking — rambling , deflecting , making jokes about flounder and burner phones , like this is just another one of her reckless disappearances. like penny hasn’t been tearing herself apart over where she was , if she was even alive, and suddenly something inside her snaps. a sharp , humorless laugh punches out of her , brittle at the edges. "are you — are you fucking kidding me ?" her voice is quiet , but there’s something dangerous beneath it , something raw and frayed. two weeks. two weeks of radio silence, of checking her phone every five minutes , of knocking on doors and getting nothing but shrugs , and now she just waltzes in — grinning , joking , like it’s all some game ? penny moves before she even thinks , grabbing the nearest throw pillow and launching it at her. not hard. not enough to hurt. but something — because if she doesn’t , she might actually scream. "you — " she stops , jaw locking , fists curled at her sides. "you absolute fucking — " another sharp inhale , her breath unsteady , her entire body tight with the effort of keeping herself from completely unraveling. "do you have any idea — any fucking idea — what the past two weeks have been like ? you couldn’t have just — texted ? called ? hell , sent a fucking carrier pigeon ?" she’s breathing too fast. she knows it. feels the way her hands are shaking , the way her chest is rising and falling too sharply. she knows she’s letting the panic and frustration bleed through , but she can’t shove it down. not when drew is just sitting there , completely unbothered , sniffing her vanilla candle like she didn’t just disappear without a trace. penny presses the heels of her hands against her eyes , turning on her heel and striding into the kitchen before she does something she won’t recover from. because she knows drew. knows this is her coping mechanism — acting like nothing is wrong , like she hasn’t just put everyone who gives a shit about her through hell. and maybe , once upon a time, penny would’ve let herself be distracted by the theatrics. would’ve let the relief of drew simply being here outweigh the hurt. but she’s seen this routine one too many times to fall for it now. she grips the counter , sucking in slow , steadying breaths. if she says something now , she will regret it. because part of her , beneath all the frustration , wants to burst into tears — because drew is alive , because she’s standing in front of her , because penny doesn’t have to wonder if she’s lost her forever. after a few seconds , she forces herself to move. forces herself to walk back into the room , stopping in the doorway , leaning against the frame like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. her voice is quieter now , but there’s no mistaking the weight behind it. "are you going to tell me what happened," she says , gaze steady , expression unreadable , "or do you just want to pretend everything is fine ? because i may be a good actress, drew, but i don’t think i can do that."

was it odd to say that abandoning her sense of self entirely gave her a new lease on life? plato didn't know shit about throwing his phone into the river. not to mention socrates had never experienced the thrill of pulling off a smooth drug deal on the busy city street. as far as drew was concerned, karl marx could suck the silicone dick that was slickened and stowed in her night stand. everywhere she went, flippant burner phone in hand, the blonde swore she could hear fly like an eagle beating in time with her steps. not a single care in the universe stopping her -- letting her spirit carry her from port to port. was this a mental breakdown of the most epic proportions? perhaps. for now - her metaphorical and quite literal high was impenetrable. and she had the steve miller band and parker to thank for that. when she'd told her roommates she'd abandoned her business with minimal explanation, drew had yet to answer the most critical questions. not even to herself. why? are you doing okay? the queries needed to be avoided. there was no space for concern in her hands-off approach to living. so it was natural to bolt. from her roommates, from penny. the fourth floor apartment hadn't seen her in days. she mostly opted for crashing on parker's couch. it made her hoodlum schedule a continuous affair. it made it easier to abandon any sort of guilt or critical thought about her decisions. but drew had caught wind of penny's concerns since her show stopping disappearance after opening night. the flowers adorned by the blonde at the stage door were the last tulips that drew had touched. and now, as the creative desire bubbled to the surface once more, so did her urge to see penny. she never dropped her key. a silent protest, a grandiose act of love, whatever you wanted to call it -- it was an excuse for drew to silently break in to surprise her. of course. the anxiety riddled star is edging tears, lump in her throat touching drew from where she stands by the front door. and she hears every word. but the eagle doesn't falter. "surprise, shaaaawty." the blonde calls out theatrically as she enters the space. her nomadic wardrobe is likely a testament to her mental state. parker's flannel that wouldn't button over her breasts even with one of those maternal stretch bands, a white bandeau top that has seen better days, a pair of inez's leggings that showcase some tasteful ankle on her too long legs, but still the same electric drew smile. "didn't i tell you? phone in the river? hope you didn't send me a nude because if you did, flounder definitely saw it." she plops down at the counter and sniffs at the lit candle, likely placed there to calm penny's nerves. her nose wrinkles at the soft vanilla scent. "is flounder a girl? like i know sebastian is a jamaican dude. like the cinnamon apple jax guy. but -- flounder? i never really knew. because if he's a bro-fish, he might like totally be into that."