stellarosenthal1

[stellarosenthal1]

thomweaver‌:

Thomas, if he was being honest, never thought he’d live long enough to start a family. He’d assumed he’d have bled to death in Kabul before he’d ever have the chance to fall in love, let alone have the earnest beginnings of a family just within reach. But here he was, with Andie, and this unborn child, and a new home he spent every spare moment painting and preparing. It also meant recruiting labor to assist in the endeavor, whether it was a begrudging Michael or, in this instance, Stella. 

He hadn’t yet told her about the baby - but he planned too. He’d sent her the address of the house on the North Side, conveniently in the same neighborhood as his parents, but not close enough that he felt it was an issue, yet. And there Thomas would wait on the front porch step, the windows and door of the home open to mitigate the fumes as he munched happily on the sandwich he’d packed for lunch that day. [ @stellarosenthal1 ]

She guarded her own heaviness close to her chest but Thomas Weaver was one of the few that could fathom the depth of its existence. A vague, nostalgic ache was part of Stella’s charm but she was constantly trying to shed the melancholia that hovered over her life. A favored way was putting the top down down on the convertible, cranking the tunes, and going for a drive. She loved the sunlight on her skin and the wind in her hair when she had nothing but the open road. The morning had started off as such, but a curious text had her doubling back towards Santa Cielo. 

She cut the music as she wove through familiar streets but pulled into an unfamiliar driveway. Stella glanced down at her phone to confirm the address, but the sight of her cousin was enough when she lifted her gaze. There she was, windswept curls and a wide smile as she pulled herself from the vehicle and offered a jest, “Finally decided to leave me all alone in South Shores?” 

[stellarosenthal1]

She has become such a lonely person. She over-thinks; she is too curious; she is anxious. It almost kills her. Over time she has figured out a way she can quieten down her emotions and just feel nothing for a while. Other times it overwhelms her and she feels everything. I do not know what is worse, to feel absolutely nothing or to feel everything completely.

RayWritess   (via wnq-writers)

[stellarosenthal1]

[stellarosenthal1]

rose taupe the color of clenched fists, unclenched, clenched again without ever daring to strike the color of the light she carried around on her shoulders like a sacrifice the color of the tears you haven’t shed that sting behind your eyes

prussian blue the color of every emotion dying when she leaves the color of her favorite book, stacked between your textbooks and your heart the color of all the places you’ve put your heart

pitch black the color of the time that passes too quickly for you to remember which days are holy the color of being scared to lose yourself the color of everything that hurts in the morning

- Three Shades of Grief | r.m - published in Fragments

[stellarosenthal1]

sidjcmes‌:

“Keeps me on my toes.” Sid did appreciate the woman’s wish to offer a metaphor to everything, dumbfounding the tattoo artist at every turn. Her mind wandered away, Stella’s siren alternate pulling her to the bluest deep. There was an enthralling quality about her, whether she meant to draw people in or not. Though she wasn’t all that sure on her mythology, Sid was positive that if she was a little high and spotted Stella emerging from her oceanic homestead after a quick dip she would be easily mistaken for her mermaid fantasy. Sea salt soaked tresses, an ocean-dwellers physique and a nymphish beauty that would send Sid to wreck. “We should go for a dip sometime. See if we can’t make that fantasy a reality.” The artist managed to say after finally resurfacing. Most others found themselves caught by compliments while Sid basked in the glow, however, she wasn’t impenetrable. What made the tattoo artist falter was being made privy. Strange, but true. The offering of personal detailings often left Sid wishing to look around for the better-suited ears. From Stella, she took it was silent gratitude and made a mental note to treat the boat with respect. Not that she wouldn’t, not that she didn’t respect others’ spaces, it just seemed important to her. 

Sid had never allowed space for love. From her younger years, difficult people had made it impossible for her to know love for herself and so without that the love of others never made sense. She’d since left those dark worlds behind but found herself struggling to catch back up in topics that seemed so primary to most. People fell in love and they stayed together forever. Sid fell in lust and then stayed at a distance. Watching from the inside, behind glass that she’d never thought to break. It was safer staying where she was comfortable. It was safer to be adored. Adoration didn’t necessitate closeness. All that it asked for was a subject that inspired, whether that be with beauty, brawn or brilliance. Sid was of a handsome ilk, her genes and unique aesthetics had allowed for automatic adoration; or at the very least an impressive following on Instagram. It was all that Sid had thought to want for, anything beyond adoration too much of a venture into the unknown. “You should try it out sometime.” Her dangerously watchful eyes stayed glued on their intended target while her lips couldn’t keep from smirking. It was a balancing act, leaving it vague and offering Stella the space to rebuke her, to tear her down. Sid could take it in their good-natured game of chicken; how close could they get and who would break first? Her competitive side believing that the latter question was for Stella alone.

Sid’s hand moved over Stella’s skin with a ferocious tenderness. Being tactile-natured left her feeling beastly when touch became the chosen mode of flirtation. It was with great restraint that she still managed to hold a conversation, her senses trying to ground themselves in her surroundings rather than in Stella. Big? No, it wouldn’t be big, though it wouldn’t be small either; and Stella had beat her to the punch. “I was just going to say.” Sid offered contently with an appreciative nod. It will be perfectly noticeable in its detail and not for its stature, not unlike its soon to be owner. The most important facet of the piece, however, would be that Stella enjoyed it and so being on a similar page only reinforced the artist’s confidence. “Are you worried that you won’t make it? You’re in great hands, you know that.” She’d grown lustful again, their conversations always a most titillating ebb and flow; borderline tidal. “What’s your favorite flower?” Maybe she’d use it, maybe she wouldn’t, but options were always good to have. Sid could see the piece in her mind’s eye and it excited her. Tattooing did excite her as a medium for her art but some pieces really did offer to her muse in abundance. “It’s not your bad ear.” She couldn’t help but remark. “You’ll probably think it’s a blessing by the end of this, not having to listen to all my sweet nothings.” 

Stella longed to enrapture so thoroughly that keeping others in her company was their own idea. She was a different creature when not operating under the heaviness of emotion, yet so much of it was intrinsic to her very being. She was always ready to help someone shed their burden, even if she was becoming smothered by her own. Thrill and tantalization swallowed her completely when she threw herself into Sid’s presence. The increasing commonality had been from an attempt to distract herself, but for once it was Stella taking something from another. She offered parts of herself to so many, be it knowledge or a vessel for emotional displacement. She rarely engaged in selfish behavior pertaining to another soul. She would reclaim her time and energy with popping away for the weekend, but she did not slither into the same unfamiliar (though that was becoming less and less applicable) bed so often. Sid was certainly the most appealing of her vices; in more ways than one. 

“A mermaid found a swimming lad, picked him up for her own,” Stella started to quote, shooting a wink. “Pressed her body to his body, Laughed; and plunging down,” she continued and let her fingers lace with the artist’s. Forgot in cruel happiness that even lovers drown. Stella was sure she could drown in those eyes as gazes met. She would not concede defeat in this game of theirs. It would be all too easy for her to slip into becoming a besotted mess. The lines had been drawn, and her own stubbornness swelled. She volleyed lines and bad jokes constantly, but poetry was kept to rarer circumstances. She toed the line of pretentiousness at times, but her authenticity overrode it. “That’s a yes.” A halo of blonde girls moved with a small shake of her head. There was truth in beauty, and there was no denying a mutual lust between the two. Anything else was debatable and not something she wanted to offer much thought to. She liked their game and that was enough for now. Adoration was far too dangerous. 

Stella let her fingers untangle as her gaze fell to the decided spot. High on the ribs, just beneath soft curves of flesh. She was excited about inviting someone into her own studio, and to have someone interested in the fine details of the rescue. She held that very notion currently in Sid’s space. “I guess I’ll just need you to kiss me to make it feel better,” she countered. “Favorite? All of them isn’t what you’re looking for, is it?” The curator thought for a moment. “Lavender and peonies.” One was calming, and Stella, too, liked being located in the French countryside. The other was so large and proud in its bloom. Much favored and so aggressive in its feminity and softness. She gave a soft roll of the eyes as she aimed to elicit one of her own, “are you ready to sting me, babe?” 

[stellarosenthal1]

sidjcmes‌:

“What are you some deep sea diver too? I thought the boat was just for show?” Aesthetically so. If Sid had a boat that would mean one of two things: Either she would sail the oceans and dock where she pleased like some kind of modern-day explorer or her Instagram would begin to include an oceanic background. The latter was so much more feasible. Sid was bi-lingual, dipping in and out of her mother tongue as quick as sentences came to her mind. Born with conversational English and her fluent second language was that of flirtation. They tended to run into one another in her mind and she paid no attention to what managed to make it out of her mouth. “You know, I don’t doubt your ability to give me what I want, you shouldn’t either.” Without a conscious thought, her tongue happily danced out her vampish words, a content grin sitting on her lips. If she was afforded the opportunity to watch Stella work or at the very least welcomed into her space to see what she was working on in person she’d be nothing but polite. In a way it was why Sid had a hard time bringing people home from bars or wherever she might find them, her little homestead doubling as her studio. There were pieces there for her eyes only, it was the sanctuary of her much love passion, not available to just anyone.  

“Why’s that? I like this one.” It was Sid’s turn to play. Her hand reached out and delicate fingers moved along the band of the blonde’s bralette, lingering for a dangerous moment. She didn’t want to pull away and so she didn’t, her digits stayed, moving downward over familiar skin. Her eyes made their way to Stella’s own, watchful for a reaction. “Where am I putting this little honeybee?” Once given a space she’d be better able to envision what she’d make of the piece. Sid valued any opportunity where she was allowed to freehand work. It meant that there would be no online stencil, no copy and paste qualities and no other work quite like it. That was art. Art was the line drawing on the skin and editing during the needlework, brainwaves occurring in the works early stages that leant themselves to a beautiful end result. “Doctor’s orders,” Sid repeated with a victorious grin, their little game turning out to be a win for both sides. “We do have to get this thing done first though. Looking for colour or black and grey? And if there’s anything you really want to see, just tell me and we’ll make it happen.” That was an assurance that Sid had no doubt in. Of course, there were limitations but her dedication to her artistry meant that the limits only came in terms of tools and hours in the day. 

“No, I just take metaphors too far.” Stella offered a small shrug in return. “I wanted to be a marine biologist there for a hot second. It was the closest I could get to being a mermaid, it seemed.” Mythic aspirations aside, she was rather pleased with where she ended up. She had always had an affinity for the sea, though she was not the sort to chase the thrill of regattas and races like the ancestors before her. “It was my grandfather’s, and still makes me feel connected to him somehow.” He had been the first person she had ever adored, though she had offered that honor to a select few in her life. She tipped her head sideways to study Sid’s entire form and let her gaze rise and fall. “It would be so easy to adore you.” She let the words float by, choosing to keep them passive and buoyant. What they had worked, with Stella choosing to continue playing their game. It was a defensive measure; one to counter Sid’s entity and to prevent the curator from becoming a blushing, bashful mess. Stella constantly found beauty in destruction and bringing pieces back from ruin, but she had yet to do with her mosaiced heart. There wasn’t room for it in this equation, and she had been guarding it more fiercely as of late. Adoration was another beast entirely -- one that would be far too easy to slip into.

Stella gave a languid stretch as she shifted in the chair. She angled her ribs to settle under Sid’s touch. A hand moved over Sid’s as she indicated the rough area of free real estate she was offering up, though her hand lingered. “We’re going big, or we can just go home,” Stella shot back. “Not too big, though.” She had seen enough of the other’s work to trust in Sid’s aesthetic. She had taken the time to explore what Sid had immortalized and wasn’t one to pass up a chance when one presented itself. She still stood by her claims she had made earlier and was leaving this entirely up to the artist. There would be no way to Stella to fix a possible disaster with her own hands, but she would relinquish aesthetic control to none other than Sidney James. “I hope I make it, Doc. Will I have to be on bed rest under careful care?” The blonde canted her head forward in an attempt to hide a grin of her own. “It’s all up to you.” Maybe a little yellow if Sid was feeling truly wild. Maybe even a sprig of lavender. “Depending on how you want me, you’ll have my bad ear. Feel free to tell me all your secrets or pledge your undying fealty.”

[stellarosenthal1]

thomweaver·:

“You could try a little harder.” He retorts with a smirk, waiting for her to unlock the car before climbing in - letting the pizza rest on his lap despite the heat it gave off. When Stella joins him inside the vehicle, he looks over at her with a soft smile. “Of course there’ll be cake. And music. Dancing.” He’d remembered trying to teach Stella to dance when they were younger, but her inner ear issues had always complicated trying to instruct her, but they’d had lots of laughs despite it all. 

Mostly because Thomas humored her and did the worm until he nearly puked. 

“I was going to wait until we got back to your place, but…” He reaches within the reserves of his bomber jacket, procuring the small velvet box, waving it slightly at his cousin. “I’m going to ask Andie to marry me.”

“I can’t help my dazzling personality and smile to match.” Stella gave an exaggerated hair flip to finish off her jest. She liked most until given a reason not to, but she was usually a good judge of character. She held no qualms if others didn’t warm up to her, but she didn’t go out of her way to seek or evade it. One way or another -- she just was. “Is your mom going to try to rope you into doing Pre-Cana?” She smiled as Thom went down the list, nodding in approval. She preferred dancing entwined with another; they could lead in tune with the music, or both so enraptured within the moment that being slightly off the beat simply didn’t matter. 

A fat tear welled up and rolled down her cheek. So many emotions were fighting to escape her, and she would finally give in to a night heavy with catharsis. Later. “It’s happy, I promise,” Stella reassured, quick to wipe it away. “Show me when we get home. How did you two go from partners to ... partners?” She intended to ask the questions to keep him gushing the whole drive over.

[stellarosenthal1]

archiewilson‌:

Not a single word was uttered, but at least she motioned for him to follow. He’d never really been in her home, or at least not one which they hadn’t shared. He followed her and even if he didn’t understand what they were doing as of now, he wouldn’t let go. How was he supposed to let her go when in truth he never really forgot about her either? He was a devil with horns in her eyes and yet he wasn’t ready to let go, he wanted to be here after all. 

Stepping inside and following, he came into a small home, one he’d never been in before but had always wondered what looked like. “Cute.” he murmured underneath his breath, his fingers touching every little thing they could. He knew she didn’t like that, how he would more or less show that he was marking his territory like he’d done so many times to her body. “You feeling better?” His eyes darted in her direction, enough space between them that neither was uncomfortable with having the other too closely. He had to more or less bow his head slightly while walking, deciding he’d rather sit than stand. He was tall after all and Stella’s little home wasn’t meant for someone like him, then again was he ever meant for her?

Stella didn’t live on the boat anymore. She almost corrected him but decided to leave that boundary in place. It had been a temporary sanctuary when she didn’t feel like occupying her childhood bedroom between months abroad. She always found her way back to Santa Cielo, but she had only truly decided to replant and cultivate her roots here once more. The sailboat was sleek and expansive, though its glory days had been helmed by her grandfather in regattas and races. 

A chair is soon settled into as she remained silent. Haughtiness was evaporating, though displeasure lurked as he explored. The mementos peppered about the interior held ties to the first person she truly adored before he descended into the murky haze of lost memories and age. This was an invasion of space, though she had invited it. Stella had to remind herself of that fact. She wasn’t thrilled with his presence, but she had been more put off about how long i took to find her once more. It’s not like she was hiding; she was just hiding some information that would thoroughly shatter any hope they might have found to cling to. She wanted to be held that night, she wanted to be found. Why were they at a standoff? “Yeah. Thom’s fine, I’m fine.” Neither of them was, but that was a different discussion altogether. “How have you been?”

[stellarosenthal1]

sidjcmes‌:

Sid had standards. Ones that she had to uphold in herself and in the people she caught the eye of. She brought preened beauty and refinement to the table. Her aesthetics were everything from the clothes she wore to her hair maintenance, which was altogether too outlandish considering her lack of it. There was never anything out of place, rigid in her fluidity. She was mannerly though cheeky and generous but entirely detached; an ideal candidate for midday glances or midnight romps. As for her suitors, there were necessary facets they had to possess. Sid had always been enamored by the lower half of the face, the lesser recognised considering the mainstream obsession with eyes. A good smile, or plump lips or a striking jawline was more than enough to for Sid to start a flirtation. There was then the importance of expecting nothing from her. Sid was not a part of their life in any great capacity. Now she would pick and choose moments of going above and beyond but an expectation of good deeds or added benefits outside being entirely sexually satisfied was a step over a line she had drawn.

“But, babe, you know I prefer being a little breathless. Totally defeats the purpose!” A tease, a harkening back to her love of breathplay. The bedroom was her playground and she didn’t shy away from any of the more wild activities.”I don’t doubt that Stell, I’ll just be watching a master at work.” There was a reason that Stella held the position she did, there had to be. Sid had just never been privy to a private audience while the blonde was at work. In truth for her, it was not dissimilar to watching a painter paint, there was beauty and finesse involved in what she did. An untrained hand would more easily further ruin a piece and Stella had curing hands that allowed it to live another day. Sid’s eyes hit the ceiling as Stella shrugged off a sleeve. “Just protecting your modesty.” The taller of the two joked before glancing back down at her, eyes naturally drawn. It was akin to a breath of fresh air or maybe the first drag of a cigarette, though her jaw did strain. It was lovely to have Stella in the shop, truly, but it was a challenge not to raincheck the tattoo for another day. “I’m not soliciting you.” Sid shot back incredulously, naturally, it was in jest but she felt it should be said nonetheless. “What are you doing later though? I’ll have to stop by and see how the tattoo is. Home visit, usual stuff.” 

“We just have to turn the valve slightly, no need for full airflow despite it being a deep dive if you so choose.” Though raised in an environment that frowned upon sex before marriage, Stella much preferred Sid’s beatific face to the beatitudes. Stella held light in abundance, but she chose how she spread and spent it... and how she spread and spent other things. She was no prude in the bedroom, but she kept such actions there. She wasn’t one to kiss and tell, but certain actions could keep her quiet. “I can’t play Doctor and give you what you want in that way. At least not very well.” The patient in her studio would require her full attention, but she was sure it would turn upon Sid soon enough. Stella wasn’t opposed to visitors, but if she had to swat hands away from the microscope one more time... ‘I’m just looking for my ex’s dick, Stella’ her ass. 

Sid’s fleeting, upturned gaze elicited an eye roll. “We passed that point of no return a long time ago.” Stella glanced down, eyeing the spot that would forever be decorated. “I knew I should have gone with a different bra today,” she feigned insult at Sid’s professionality. The curator held the notion that art didn’t always have to have meaning. Art for art’s sake, for aesthetic’s sake, for beauty’s sake -- they were all valid. She trusted Sid with all of those, but if pressed she had some semblance of reason, however cheesy it may be. Honey bees will protect at the risk of its own life, and Stella was nothing if not loyal and courageous. If she could only sting once, she would make it count. She looked back up at Sidney, amusement twinkling. “I owe Ophelia a long walk and owe myself some sushi, but I could be swayed otherwise. Doctor’s orders?”

[stellarosenthal1]

sidjcmes‌:

“You’ve never been one to be quiet, Stell.” Deflection. She was not a master of it, but it had its uses all the same. In her youth it was used to mask the pain of the misunderstanding she struggled with. Why is your hair short? Why are you such a tomboy? Have you got yourself a boyfriend yet? In a way, those were the easier questions, at least they were easier than the questions she was asking herself. Most of the time she didn’t have the answers and deflection worked well, batting back of questions, changing direction or at the very least ending the conversation that was notably one-sided. Once Sid had made peace with herself deflection had come in the form of humility towards her art. Not a muscle she flexed all too often, but it was there just the same. “You know what, you’re not wrong.” Sid did have a tendency to be polarising, but she’d never experienced that around Stella, never feeling as though their opinions differed wildly, appreciating all that the woman had to say. “As deep as you’ll let me.” Toying with her again, she really couldn’t help herself. Stella made it so easy to flirt with her. Sid did enjoy making people laugh but a beautiful smile really did something for her. For her, to her, there wasn’t time to think too heavily on it. Sid wasn’t the type to be weak-kneed but there was a part of her that was glad they were sitting. “I really enjoy seeing what people do well.” It was sometimes hard finding the time and finding the right people. All niches were unto themselves but Sid needed to discover those who had passion and put their heart into what they did. “I’m better known for being satiating but sure, substantial will do just fine.” The taller of the two shrugged, always prepared to be her own hype man. The honors? It was a bonafide privilege but Sid hesitated. “This is my place of work.” She chided, wishing she could stop herself from eyeing the curator, though art was made to be looked at. “But I mean… If you want to go down the back we can.” The offer was absolutely on the table, but somehow Sid managed to pull herself together long enough to tug the bow gently, allowing it to be the only thing to unravel in front of the blonde.

Stella backed off from their uncharted territory. She was well versed in deflection; learned from her own nuances and the cues she took from loved ones. Sidney was certainly one of the most substantial x-night stands. Did you count them together? Individually? Did they count at all? All Stella would reveal was how she felt after. The blonde was usually so in control of her emotions -- one had to be when you had so much swirling beneath the surface. There were times when the juggling act got to be too much, and others when Stella wanted to simply step off the tight rope. Sid was no safety net, but Stella appreciated the inked arms that never fully let her hit rock bottom. Sid was the prettiest form of distraction, and neither person seemed to have a qualm with a quick release of catharsis. “Babe, we’ll have to get you some scuba gear, then.” Stella decided with a laugh. She had started learning this delicate craft from her grandfather, and many hours had been spent in utter captivation. At the very least, the studio would be the proud new owner of a second respirator. Stella wanted to be the only thing taking someone’s breath away. “Well, I hope that I’ll prove to be worthy.” Stella took pride in her work, or rather, the visual lack of it being noticeable. The conservator never added anything more than necessary, but she loved being able to breathe new life into the things that crossed her table. Stella shrugged out of one of the sleeves, revealing a bralette and eyeing Sid for a reaction. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to elicit. “It’s up to you. I suppose you want me to pay for it somehow.” The blonde fully intended to compensate monetarily, but a little fun - before or after - certainly wouldn’t hurt as much.

[stellarosenthal1]

thomweaver‌:

“S’okay, Stella.” Thomas states, signing the same words. “Come on.” He’d step over, a hand placed gently on her forearm. “Sit.” If Thomas felt anything remotely close to Stella’s own grief and surprise, he’d be shocked. He knew the way Patrick doted upon his favorite cousin, the close-knit relationship they’d always had from the time he held her as a baby. It hurt him to think just how much Michael tortured her, too. Thomas settled back into his chair, gray eyes falling upon Michael. He thought about all the hell Aimee had been through, how much it must have hurt her to tell him the truth, the secrets she’d kept and the years it had weighed upon her conscious - only for Patrick’s son to have fallen so far. But Thomas had made a promise - he would make sure Michael was okay.

“I got into some trouble back home.” Michael states earnestly - though a fierce stare from his uncle quickly corrected him. “I was arrested.” He lets out a soft breath, not at all used to the situation at hand, clearly. Michael had been raised knowing his step-father wasn’t biologically related to him, that a few photographs his mother kept of Patrick told the true story of things - but she’d never talked of Thomas, Kyle, or Stella, for that matter. He was too young to understand her grief, or the promise she’d made to herself and to her firstborn that she would build a life for them independent of Grant and Jeannette Weaver’s rule of law.  

Stella was so thoroughly overwhelmed with this newfound knowledge, but the extent of it hadn’t even fully hit her yet. She eyes Thom’s hands, giving them a small nod. Her thoughts were quickly drifting elsewhere, though one of her own hands settled upon his. She was sure he felt the small tremors she tried to keep invisible. She was not granting this a proper reaction, but she couldn’t dredge an example of one to the surface. She stays latched to Thomas as she lowers herself down, only freeing him after a few awkward seconds. She choked out something between a sob and a laugh, not quite sure what this odd dream required. 

“I’m sorry,” she finally offers, deflecting and taking in a shaky breath. Her heart was in her throat, but something else was rising. She did her best to keep things at bay, though she had far better first impressions under her belt. She stays quiet, trying to wrap her head around everything just thrown at her. Stella is pulled back to the present by words she has to work to understand, but not only because of her own issues. She studies Michael, respecting the enigma sitting before her. She turned back to Thomas, trying to choose her words carefully, though they fail her. “How long did you, uh -- how long?”

[stellarosenthal1]

archiewilson‌:

Archie scoffed at her words, his eyes averting away from her. Was it so hard for her, to show some sort of emotion when it came to him? Was he such a cruel memory that she had to cover his whole being with malice and bad manners? He didn’t look at her, didn’t really want to, to be fair. She seemed inhumane when it came to him as if he was the disease she couldn’t rid herself from and perhaps he was. It had crossed his mind several times that perhaps their past, the memories both good and bad should be buried where no one would know of them? Know of what they had once been and perhaps never would be again. 

It didn’t mean that was what he wanted. Holding her close in his bedsheets had been horrifying. He’d felt so comforted and close and yet she was so distant and far away, even in his arms. A few seconds past, before his eyes, turned to her again, his lower lip between his teeth. Why was he even there? Had he even decided about that? Or was he simply there because he couldn’t scratch the itch which was her? “Will you let me in?” 

All of Stella’s emotions muddled together to teach her a new one, one she was wildly unused to. She was usually in touch with her own and those that others displaced upon her. No one person in her life should have to play Atlas when she could help carry the load, though Archie had unearthed a heaviness she had never spoken aloud. The grief of her loss paled in significance to the heavy blow that was losing Kyle shortly after. He had lived a life; he had hopes and dreams. Hers had barely had a heartbeat. Her options with Archie boiled down to caginess or utter ruination, but she chose the prior. She had already been down the road to ruin once before. She wouldn’t go back. She couldn’t go back. 

The business card in place of where her head had rested had been an invitation. Their conversation hadn’t been over. Rather, it was just starting. Tonight she would speak through stoic words instead of sobs. She would cling to her resolve, though it would be so easy for him to pick her apart and unravel her at the seams. She angled her eyes upwards, wondering why the universe had picked this location for yet another emotional blow this week. She had seen Patrick’s ghost earlier, but a second look confirmed Archie was flesh and bone. Stella softened slightly before giving a curt nod. She descended below deck, letting the door stay open as she waited for him to follow. She’d let him in, but to what extent? 

[stellarosenthal1]

archiewilson‌:

Disappointment had been ever-present in Archie’s eyes as he woke up to the other side of the bed being occupied by no one. He knew quite well back then that Stella had her reasons for leaving, but he never thought she’d leave without at least giving him a cold look. Nothing had happened that night, the two had simply gone to bed, him with his arms around her as she was shaking from the after the shock of all the actions. The thought of the two being one again had crossed his mind, but if one thing was for certain it was that he would never force himself on her. She held such a place in his cold small heart, that he couldn’t find it in him to break her further. 

It had gone weeks since that, and neither seemed to be interested in interacting with the other. It didn’t mean Archie didn’t think about her or wonder if she was alright. She was after all one of the few rays of sunshine in his life. With the flashlight on his phone, he tried to help her as she was struggling with the lock on the boat. He knew where he would find her, he always knew. “Just trying to give a helping hand.” He replied and stepped forward, coming forth and taking the light a little back on him, making her see who it was. He was pretty sure she didn’t wish to see him, but he’d been staying away for long enough. His eyes traveled across her, looking her up and down, savoring the view. “You didn’t say goodbye last time,” he noted, making sure she knew he’d been rather upset about it. 

Stella had tentatively untangled herself before slipping into the night. She tried to disrupt his sleeping form as little as possible, though she was aware his sudden resurfacing would be an immense disruption to the life she had crafted. She had stayed put far longer than she would have liked, though she stayed tethered with the knowledge that she was needed here. She had to stop carving temporary homes out of people and places when the shelter she had built in Italy had been so thoroughly decimated by the one intended to inhabit with her. She had been finding her footing, but it had all been swept away the night of the shooting. Tears of happiness at Thom’s announcement of his intentions had been tinged with the others she had refused to cry. Her emotions had been knocked out of alignment, and it had been hard to face them all at once. The prevalent one had been perplexity; why hadn’t he sought her out? 

The passing weeks had dulled the ache. There was enough going on to distract from the fact that she had been so close to shattering. Perhaps she could sweep the pieces of her broken heart beneath a new -- antique --  Aubusson rug. She could ignore the bleeding lumps when they were shrouded with a delicate floral motif, right? She was distracted from her thoughts when the source of it all finally stepped back into her realm. Her breath hitched slightly as she took in his form before finally turning the key in the lock. “I didn’t think the conversation was over,” she finally idled, though there was a touch of flippancy laced within. 

[stellarosenthal1]

liamromero‌:

Liam hadn’t had a specific direction when he found himself aimlessly walking. He hadn’t really made a plan, but when he noticed that Stella seemed to be aboard her boat, he thought he might as well at least say hi and check in on her. Stepping gently as to not startle the blonde, he obviously failed as he watched her whirl around towards him. “Hey, it’s just me, Liam. Sorry if I completely startled you.”

It was remarkably easy to sneak up on Stella, but she let a puff of laughter escape the cavern trepidation had just fled from. The key finally turned within the lock, and she swung the cabin door open. It was an open invitation between there and the bow, finished off with a smile. “Hey, it happens. How have you been? What have you been up to?”

[stellarosenthal1]

sidjcmes‌:

For Sidney drinking was purely routine, her lifeblood and her essence stemmed from being out on the town, whatever that might look like. Her usually accomplice was poor Thomas who did try his best to keep up with her. They did have fun and a benefit she’d never foreseen was that he oftentimes enjoyed dragging out his cousin for a drink or two. What fun their familial bond offered up for Sid. A game built just for her. Was Sid the life of the party? No. She was the brooding beauty who cast glances out across crowded bars til she hooked a returned stare. Though it sounded easy, a certain blonde did always care to make it a challenge. Stella seemed to flit from conversation to conversation with heads turning as she went. Not many bars in Santa Cielo had spotlights but it seemed as though Stella waltzing into their lowly establishment was enough for them to find one. The sea would soon part or at the very least she’d run out of people in the room to dazzle and Sid would reel her in with the offering of a drink and the night would be theirs. Her little game was as much fun to play as is was to win, watching beauty beguile and the unworthy fade. 

Sid had been put in any number of odd positions over her lifetime. Playing roles that certainly were not built for her but her chameleon soul offered to them nonetheless. This little date wasn’t too far of a stretch for her. They both shared an appreciation of art, finery and each other’s aesthetics. Sid enjoyed finding herself in the home of another’s passion. Stella’s smile seemed brighter here and if nothing else came from the night, she supposed that was something. The complexity between Apollo and Daphne bewildered Sid. A heartwrenching tale. Sid wasn’t quite sure what she’d do if she was smited in the same way. If she actually managed to find someone to love her, to adore her and everything she was only to hate them in exchange; it pained her cavernous loveless chest. “Has she been struck yet here? I want to think that she hasn’t been.” That she has not lost the love she will not know. When nudged Sid looked back to the more vibrant female form in front of her and her stare refused to budge. All she could do was smile. Had she been expected to answer? Stella knew the answer she’d get by now. The change of direction earned the blonde a derisive grin, Sid enamored by her impeccable timing. “I’m following your lead, blondie. Do you want me to carry that?” A nod towards the champagne was offered. Though entirely childish in her innuendos, she did feign being the perfect gentleman rather well.  

Stella thrived on connecting with people, though she rarely turned her charm on so exquisitely, utterly radiant. It was all to easy to volley it Sidney’s way; to flex a muscle she kept steps away from atrophy. She rarely played the game so thoroughly, but she had no conflict with the challenge she presented. There was little harm when neither sought out anything of true depth. Stella had let her heart get caught in a rip current and swept out to sea. She had let it become more mangled than a shipwreck, and there had been no survivors. She had been the Siren once, but cut her sailor free before she could pull him into the inky, endless deep. The occasional tangle with Sid was fun -- there would be no need for rescue divers when they were simply lounging on swan-shaped innertubes in the shallow end. 

There would be no leaded or gilded arrows in this story. She would not become target practice for the Gods, but she had let her mind wander on occasion. Was she Apollo? Was she a Daphne? There were times she let herself get lost in the pursuit of her current whim, but Stella could always pull herself back from the ledge. She had invited the chase with Archie Wilson, yet she was not on the path to becoming a laurel tree. Daphne had not invited, and perhaps that made all the difference. She wondered how the statue would feel, knowing that a crowned wreath in her glory meant victory. Who was the victor? Who was the damned? It was as twisted as limbs were into branches. She had spent a long time trying to discern her answer to that, but she didn’t have one at the ready. “I haven’t decided, and perhaps that makes her all the more enchanting.” Stella looked at her hands, one happily linked at the elbow and clutching the coiled up rose. The other was wrapped around the neck of the bottle as she debated if dexterous fingers could handle the stems of flutes wedged between them. She finally surrendered it to Sidney’s custody and their elbows in the process. “That’d be great. Let’s get poppin’?”

[stellarosenthal1]

penelopewells‌:

The car ride felt long even though it was short. The walk to her door felt like an eternity even though it was only a few feet. The climb to her bed was the worst part. Kicking off her shoes, and shoving her pants off her body, P climbed into bed in just the shirt she was wearing. Tucking her arms into the covers, the woman looked up with her big eyes at her friend. Normally things didn’t go this way. Normally she wasn’t the person who needed. She was the nurturer. She did not need nurturing. Her lips fell to a frown as she sighed softly at what her life had become, and perhaps what it had always been. “Don’t leave me.” She whispered. 

Stella was no stranger to herding her friends inside and wrangling them to bed, or couch. She stepped out of her heels as she stepped over the threshold, finding relief from a far more stable surface. She made quick work of procuring a glass of water and two advils and presented them from the brunette. “At least take a sip.” Stella looked at Penelope’s drawers for a second before making a conjecture before producing a t-shirt and offering it up. She settled herself at the edge of Penelope’s bed, wanting to be sure of things before she slipped into the night. She tucked a piece of hair behind P’s ear and gave a small smile. Penelope was one of the rare people Stella would let probe and nurture, but she was always willing to return the favor. “I won’t go anywhere until you tell me to.” 

[stellarosenthal1]

 sidjcmes‌:

What a dangerous thing to say to Sidney James. An unknowingly bold move to make because Sid did have a habit of taking whatever she could. Opportunistic: a liar’s version of selfish. In towns before Santa Cielo Sid had been any number of people. A last call glance across the bar to a future bed partner, a struggling tattoo artist in need of a place to stay, a successful tattoo artist whose hotel booking mishap left them in need. She was whatever she needed to be to get what she wanted. A con artist, of sorts. She conned people out of couches for an evening or two, conned them out of the left or maybe the right side of their bed and she’d con Stella out of every last ounce of knowledge if she was let. Sid would listen so intently the blonde would probably start thinking of charging. There would be references to past comments, a genuine interest and maybe even some independent study in the hopes that she might offer up something that Stella didn’t already know. How dangerous it was to interest Sidney James. 

Sidney did everything in her power to keep her jaw stoic at Stella’s games. The muscles were jumping, itching to grin at the woman’s antics. There was such a strong element of joy in watching her dance around like a loon in a hall filled with statuesque figures. Surely it was a kind of fever dream for Sid, being with a gorgeous woman, her people and knowing that they were but steps away from alcohol. To good to be true came to mind momentarily, but she dismissed that thought almost immediately. All that came to her she deserved, the good, the bad and the beautiful. Sid happily let the woman return to her, the crook of her elbow embracing the other tenderly. “Feel free to point out your second favorite statue.” It was offered amongst the facts that seemed to stream out of Stella. There was never any dedication to seeking out those with expansive minds, Sid just seemed to come across them along the way. They piqued her interest and like a dog with a bone, she hounded them in her own understated and flirtatious way. “When have you ever known me not to perform?” She asked defiantly, daring the woman to offer up an instance where she hadn’t meet the mark. 

Stella and Sidney had cultivated a language made up almost entirely of double entendres. The subtext had largely been written on nights out, when Tim could finally coax his cousin out or vice versa. A chiseled, pristine face began something the blonde would look for when stepping into crowded spaces. She would float from conversation to conversation until one finally stuck. Stella found it far easier to focus on one or two voices but never intended to hold anyone hostage. If she was interested in holding someone’s attention captive, she aimed to enrapture them so thoroughly that sticking around was their idea. Stella Rosenthal was never one to impose, but she was not above orchestrating things slightly should they fall into her favor. 

The museum was a far cry from their usual venues, but usual didn’t quite fit their sporadic throes of intimacy. She couldn’t quite place how she felt about the change of pace. The blonde’s favorite sculpture was prefaced with “It’s no Bernini, but...” as she stepped to the side. It was its own rendition of Daphne, sans Apollo. Delicate buds and sprigs of laurel framed the base of the bust. There was a perplexed serenity, a sentiment Stella often found herself echoing. She offered a small shrug, letting her gaze settle over Daphne before switching back to Sid. She gave the other a small, fond nudge in an attempt to glaze over any psychoanalyzing. “Are you liking what you’re seeing so far?” Sculptures, and otherwise? She wasn’t sure whether to let the moment linger, so her hand plunged into the champagne bucket to retrieve their first bottle of the evening. She thought about dropping an ice cube down her date’s collar, but she would not succumb to playground antics to distract when adult ones would suffice. “The courtyard would be a better place for flying corks, huh?”