magic in the hamptons

@kanyewest: have you ever thought you were in love with someone but then realized you were just staring in a mirror.

[stellathcmpson-blog]

text → ares

ares: never

ares: am interested

ares: tell me more

stella: i can't fucking type all this out AGAIN

stella: put down whatever matches you're playing with and come watch a youtube video with me

[stellathcmpson-blog]

text → loml

shea: the clintons ????

shea: ngl i read that as clitons and i was like Wow Stella You Went There

shea: i mean ... probably

shea: ur probably on their list now :/

stella: yeah u might have heard of them if you didn't sleep through gov every day !!

stella: how stoned are you huh

stella: i really want to show u this youtube video its an hour long and will change your life

stella: i'm too pretty to die at the hands of corrupt government officials :( they'll rule it an accident and i'll NEVER get justice

stella: will you avenge me

[stellathcmpson-blog]

text → loml

shea: whomst?

stella: THE BOYS . ON THE TRACKS SHEA

stella: the clintons have a fucking kill list and now i'm scared to sleep

stella: do u think they're tracking me bc i watched all those youtube videos

[stellathcmpson-blog]

text → nico

nico: u cannot say its crazy and then not give me the story

nico: tell me about these boys

stella: i'm scared the fbi agent in my phone is watching me

[stellathcmpson-blog]

text → open

nico: the whos on the what

nico: is that some sort of ghost story

stella: kind of

stella: it's so fucking crazy

stella: leaving every light in our house on tonight sry

[stellathcmpson-blog]

text → open

stella: hey

stella: u ever hear about the boys on the tracks

[stellathcmpson-blog]

text || shea

shea: omg u have it hi

shea: listen......... i might be

shea: cant even tell tbh i could die tonight and id be fine w it

shea: uh both

shea: [2 min later] FIGURED IT OUT

shea: im. by the back door. so i can see the kitcehn AND the backayrd .... crazy

shea: come find me

stella: hi honey

stella: no dying .. i would fuckin NOT be fine with it and i matter more

stella: [3 min later] holy shit i thought u really did Die

stella: sit tight i'm coming

stella: dude how much ahve you had to drink tn

[stellathcmpson-blog]

[stellathcmpson-blog]

griffincd·:

STELLA THOMPSON.

                griffin was tipsy by this point, he had a pretty good pre-game with bryce earlier before the events of the night had started. an arm wrapping around stella’s shoulders as he planted a quick kiss to her cheek, “still hobbling, i see?” he chuckled. // @stellathcmpson

stella clutches a bottle she’d found in the kitchen, manicured fingers wrapped around the neck of the glass as she brings it to her lips, a slight grimace marking her lips as the liquid slips down her throat. she’s holding court with a group of fellow cheerleaders, dark red pout parted in a grin, when an arm wraps around her shoulder. “shut up.” it takes less than a moment for her to figure out who’s speaking, and she returns the favor, grabbing his face in both hands and smacking a lipstick mark against his cheek. her eyes are bright, words tinged with jack daniels. “i never hobbled.” she does a little twirl, as if to demonstrate, and catches herself on griffin’s arm when she stumbles. her ankle gives a little groan in protest. “won’t matter for all my back up schools anyway, right?” her tone is light, honey-coated, but she hasn’t forgotten the sting of his texts. “you need to be, like, way more drunk.”

[stellathcmpson-blog]

royalblair·: 

    he let out a slight roll of his eyes before he took to his knees and bent down to start fixing her shoe.    ❛  horns can mean a lot of things, stels. ❜     he mumbled as he quickly finished tying her shoe before he stood up and readjustted his shirt. after taking a quick swig of his drink, he let out a soft smirk and chuckled a bit.     ❛  very fitting. ❜     he couldn’t help the quick glance his eyes took as they travelled up her body back to her face. he’d be lying if he said she hadn’t done very well on her costume.     ❛  very funny stels. what’s the problem in dressing as future me ?  ❜     

chocolate irises follow his movements as he kneels, fingers working gingerly around her ankle. “you look good down there,” she remarks dryly, smirk widening into a laugh ( it covers the slight grimace as she quickly shifts her weight back onto both feet -- so maybe she hadn’t quite followed the doctors orders to rest after her fall. ) she grins again when she notices the trace of his gaze up her body. she hadn’t put on a dress like this to blend into the background. “scarier than any costume,” stella concedes, plucking the hat from his head and flipping it backwards. “the brads of the world are shaking. but you need a stronger drink.” amber liquid swishes against the glass as she raises the bottle to her lips once more, stomach warming, before extending it toward royal with a flourish. “mix us something good, bartender chad. you have some catching up to do.”

[stellathcmpson-blog]

text || shea

shea: i thignk the kitchen >?????

shea: mayb

shea: coudl b the bathroom

shea: orthe backyard

shea: r u in danger

stella: no i just wanted ur attention.

stella: sounds like maybe UR in danger

stella: i need like .. 4 more shots to be able to read these

stella: do u see grass or a fridge

[stellathcmpson-blog]

text || shea

stella: HELLO????? WHERE ARE YOU?

stella: SOS

[stellathcmpson-blog]

royalblair·:

    ❛  your shoe’s untied babe ❜     he mumbled as he pressed the beer bottle to his lips and took a swing. sure, season was nearing but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have some fun. he stepped closer to the person in front of him and with an eyebrow raise he let a small smirk fall on his lips.     ❛  what are you supposed to be ? ❜     

“be a darling and fix it for me?” stella bats her lashes innocently, extending a toned calf until the loosely knotted string from her heels, a deep red wrapped around her ankle, was within royal’s reach. “can’t bend over in this costume.” a smirk lifts the corners of her lips. she levels her gaze with his, raises an eyebrow in response. “did you get hit too many times in the head at practice today? i’ve got horns.” and a tight red leather dress skimming around her thighs. “a devil. kind of fitting, don’t you think?” stella does a little twirl, halting to clink the bottle of jack she’d nabbed from the kitchen against his glass. her lower lip pulls beneath her teeth. “it’s halloween, not career day. why are you dressed like yourself in 3 years?” 

[stellathcmpson-blog]

-- “HONEY, I’M HOME.” stella doesn’t bother knocking-- she never does-- as she bursts through shea’s bedroom door, barely greeting her best friend with a grin before she dives onto his bed. she spreads out there, arms curved behind her head, chocolate irises locked on the slow turns of the ceiling fan, words directed at the boy who’s just now swiveled around in his desk chair. “i don’t know what you’re working on, but stop it. it’s friday and there’s no football game and i can’t practice and the doctor says i need to relax, so we’re going to relax.” turning over onto her stomach, she reaches into her purse and produces a small, plastic bag. it dangles in shea’s general direction, clutched between two manicured fingers, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “just picked up. you can thank me later. what are we in the mood for? a joint? or cynthia.” it was the name she’d given shea’s multi-colored glass bowl, dissolved into a fit of giggles one night. she refused to call it anything else. shea refused to call her by her god ( or at least stella )-given name. 

she hadn’t meant to lie to shea about how she’d hurt her ankle. she never kept secrets from him, and was half-convinced she’d never get away with one, anyway, that his blue gaze would always find a way of seeing straight through her. but when she’d hobbled into homeroom the morning after her incident, she’d opened her mouth and all that came out was-- tripped over a rock like a total dumbass on my jog yesterday. can you believe it? coach is gonna kill me. so here they were. her week without dance was almost over, and stella was certain if she had to sit with her thoughts and her useless, bruised ankle for another moment, she’d never make it. curling up on shea’s bed, she pats the space next to her, waits for his body to fill it. her chin rests on his shoulder. “if i can’t make it up to the roof, you’ll have to carry me. some things are worth fucking up your already fucked-up ankle for.” @shabernathy

[stellathcmpson-blog]

rykerxshaw·:

@stellathcmpson

‘‘ got here as soon as i could. sorry i’m a little late..’‘ he trails off, mischevious grin outstretching across his features as he looks her over– an eyebrow raising. ‘‘c’mere, i got you a present.’‘

stella sits propped against her headboard, arms crossed in front of her chest, lips extended in a pout as she levels her gaze with ryker’s. “what the hell, ryker, did you seriously just walk through the front door? anyone could have seen you. that’s why we use the window?” his grin makes its way beneath her skin ( like always ) and her eyes follow his movements as he closes her bedroom door, makes his way toward the edge of her bed. she shifts until the hem of her shirt rides up, reveals a sliver of stomach. she pretends not to notice. “one, there’s no way you got here as fast as you could, unless you were walking from LA. two, unless your present is a new ankle, i don’t want it.” stella knows she sounds petulant, but she’s just returned from the hospital, and it’s left her with a sour taste on her tongue. her chest expands in an exasperated sigh. she flops back, landing against her comforter with a soft thud, arms raising to cross over her eyes. “my life is ruined.”

[stellathcmpson-blog]

ffsxres‌:

        “ i really fucked up ! ” he shouted to stella in the other room, eyes growing wide at the flames that continued to grow. it wasn’t his intention to start the fire when he moved the towel toward the flame of the stove, but then when it caught fire and it burned a small portion of his finger, he tossed it toward the boxes on the table. from there it only got worse and his immediate reaction was obviously to start slapping it with the sleeve of his sweater. then that caught fire and he pulled it off, launching it toward the garbage bin — he really was the reason they couldn’t have nice things.“ holy shit ! ” ares scream laughed, eyeing the girl when she finally walked into the room and then he froze between the two small fires ( one on the counter and one in the garbage bin ). “ listen, i know this looks bad, but … we needed a new bin anyway?” / / @stellathcmpson

“i’m ignoring you!” stella’s voice carries into the kitchen from her perch on the living room sofa, wrapped ankle propped on a pillow, the glossy pages of a magazine turning idly beneath her fingers. it had only been a few days since her unfortunate fainting spell at the studio, and the girl had already reduced it to nothing more than a fluke-- nothing to get worried over, at least, and certainly nothing to share with hollenbeck. still, she couldn’t hide the fact that the skin around her ankle bloomed the yellowed purple of old bruises, or that the doctor had strongly recommended she didn’t practice for a week. so she told her housemates she’d tripped during a jog, and she sits on the couch, and the promise of a week of lethargy looms heavy on the horizon, anxiety gnawing the pit of her stomach. 

she flips another page, barely registering cosmo’s spread, partaking in a conscious effort to block the sounds of ares’ antics in the other room, until-- “holy shit, is something burning?” the smell of smoke is unmistakable, not quite thick, but cloying. when she halts in the kitchen doorway, she blinks in the scene, a shirtless ares and two small blazes, a slow smirk lifting the corners of her lips. “holy shit.” she repeats, and then, “wyatt is soooooo gonna kill you.” and she’s not sure if she should be concerned that she isn’t more concerned, that this somehow doesn’t surprise her at all, but she leaps into action regardless, choosing to tackle the fire by the counter because hello? why should she have to touch everyone’s trash just because ares is an idiot. “well, don’t just stand there,” she commands over her shoulder, grabbing a dish towel to throw over it-- isn’t that what they did in movies?-- and then jumping a bit when all that seems to do is catch the cloth in flame. “fuck. how do people do this?”

[stellathcmpson-blog]

antonio-lance-hill‌:

Entering the dance studio with  a bag slung over his shoulder, antonio had seen the crowd forming around whoever had fainted and he immediately shook his head. ‘’Make a space and let us through !! ‘’ He had called out, starting to push his way through the crowd and crouch down to get a look at his patient.  Antonio had tilted her chin up and pressed two fingers along the side of her neck to get a feel for her pulse, his brows raising slightly. ‘’Stella?’’ He asks, reaching for his flashlight to shine it in her eyes giving her cheek a light tap– motioning for the stretcher to come in. 

@stellathcmpson

if there was one thing stella had always been able to count on, it was that her body did what she wanted. it stretched when she wanted it to stretch, turned and dipped and curved, dance offering an intoxicating mix of freedom and precision that let her feel finally, consistently, like she was in control. so she practiced. and she practiced. and she practiced. and she couldn’t tell you, exactly, when that started feeling like it might not be enough. but when hunger became a part of her life, she reminded herself that maybe perfection wasn’t easy but that didn’t mean it wasn’t possible, with enough discipline. and who was more disciplined that stella? who wanted anything more than stella wanted to dance ( and maybe julliard was a lofty goal, she knew that, but she wasn’t the type to have a back up plan. ) 

and then she fell. “fuck.” the word emerged under her breath in one harsh, sharp syllable. her back ached and so did her ankle, bruises blossoming from where she’d hit the floor, mid routine. a pair of hands jostle her, and it takes a moment for her to orient herself. she tries to slap them away. “what the hell?” stella blinks in the scene around her, brow crinkled in confusion. “who called fucking 911? i’m fine.” her gaze finally locks with the person holding her. “don’t you dare call a stretcher in here.” it’s difficult to sound demanding when you’ve just fainted. only when she tries to move too suddenly, the studio spinning around her and her ankle groaning under the pressure, that the girl finally goes still. “fuck.” it’s quieter this time, resigned. “do we really need a stretcher? i have places to be.” the words adopt a more pleading tone, directed at the likely-exasperated emt by her side. “you look strong. can’t you just use your big and oh-so capable hands to help me up, and we can both be on our ways?”