stella mc

Ernest: [holding up a sign that says “HOMOSEXUALS ARE GAY”]

Hugo: HETEROSEXUALS ARE STRAIGHT.

Brian: DOGS ARE ANIMALS.

Mat: BOOKS ARE READING MATERIALS.

Jospeh: VIOLETS ARE FLOWERS.

Damien: COMPUTERS ARE ELECTRONIC.

Craig: WATCHES TELL TIME.

Robert: WATER IS A DRINK.

Mary: WOMEN ARE FEMALE.

Dadsona: MEN ARE MALE.

Amanda: CHILDREN ARE YOUNG.

Briar: OXYGEN IS H2O.

Hazel, yelling at Briar: H2O IS WATER DUMBASS.

4

Model: Georgia May Jagger | Photographer: Lachlan Bailey | Fashion Editor: Geraldine Saglio | Hair: Rudi Lewis | Make-up: Christelle Cocquet

Versace, Fausto Puglisi, Ralph Lauren, Chanel, Vivienne Westwood, Saint Laurent by Hedi Slimane, Stella McCartney, Moschino. 

@seraphinitegames Taking on the mc aesthetic rush! Let me introduce you, Stella Lin, my main character. She is of an Asian descent raised in America. You’re gal when it comes going out and eat the cafe is her second home. Stella takes everything on her plate with utmost serious; it is in her DNA to be a workaholic. It takes guts to be kind, especially, when there are some who reeks off bad vibes and that is unfortunately existent in her field of job. The other thing she takes serious other than her job is fashion.

I’M SO EXCITED FOR AURORA JAMES’ SEASON 4!!!! LIKE SHE LOOKS SO GOOD IN THE FLASH FORWARD AND LIKE!!!!! AURORA DEALING WITH A 15 YEAR OLD STELLA!!!!! I want Stella to tell MC and Rory that she’s gay and the two moms be like “NOT A HOMOSEXUAL IN OUR GOOD CHRISTIAN HOME!!! (and Irving will pop in like “it’s my house tho”) HOW COULD WE HAVE RAISED A LESBIAN?!?! WHERE COULD SHE HAVE BEEN INFLUENCED BY THIS???“ and then they laugh hysterically while Stella gets mad that they aren’t taking her seriously. Or like Aurora and Stella fighting and MC mediating. Or Stella getting stuck in the infinite "Go ask your mother” loop. Seriously guys Aurora. James. Season. 4. Its gonna be great.

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adidas by Stella Mc Cartney | SS17 | HIIT

Mistake

Summary: “Coming here was a mistake, she knows.

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Maxwell x MC (Stella)

Note: Hi. I’ve never posted any of my writing before so this is a new, unexplored territory for me. I’ll let you know that English is not my native language and so I do apologize in advance for grammar mistakes or any other language flaw you can find. Feel free to reblog, comment - I’m more than open to constructive criticism because I love to write from time to time and I want to get better at it. Also, I guess I should warn you that there is no shortage of angst in this otherwise short fic. (IMO at least, idk bout y’all lol) Well then… Enjoy! 


Coronation.

It is the night marking the ending of the social season and everyone is on their very best behaviour. The suitors are wearing the fairest of gowns and the most beautiful glimmering jewelry they own - all in one last attempt to impress the prince before he, in merely a few hours, chooses one of the ladies to have by his side in the ruling of Cordonia. And so, you can imagine the tension between many of the ones in the running. Some of them have worked exceptionally hard, preparing their whole lives for this very moment. Others… not as much.

The ballroom is buzzing with anticipation as another song starts playing and the partners who have just shared a dance part with bows and curtseys and partner up with new people. Laughter and chatter rings though the hall but a woman sitting by her table fidgeting with her hands is watching on with gloom. Her eyes are trained on one pair: Lady Olivia and Prince Liam. He plants a light kiss to her knuckles and lady Olivia’s eyes are filled with delight of the simple gesture. Her feeling’s for the prince are more than obvious and oh, what a shame it is, truly. The prince is in love with somebody else. 

The doleful look the watcher is sporting is not one of jealousy of any sort. Guilt would better describe what she is feeling, for the prince said so himself, only a few days earlier, that his heart belongs to her. And she knows it is her name that will cut through the thick silence filling the hall later this evening as he words his proposal. But she also knows that she will never be able to give him nor, maybe most importantly, the Beaumont house what they need. Especially after recent… events. 

Guilt. Coming here was a mistake, she knows. She can only imagine the hurt and the heart break left in the wake of this damned mess. Frankly, she never did want to be a part of this royal lifestyle, not really. When a young man came up to her a few months ago, asking if she’d like to run for the prince’s hand, she’d merely seen it as an escape from her dull city life. It isn’t fair how a plain girl like herself, some futile american, has taken everything away from the other ladies: the prince, the crown, swooped right from under their powdered noses. She does not belong here.

She attempts to swallow the lump in her throat, closes her eyes and takes a shaky breath as she stands slowly, before calmly walking towards the large hall doors. With every step she quickens her pace, the heavy material of her dress pooling around her feet, though she holds it up the best she can. She doesn’t stop until she’s made it down the wide stairs outside, where she comes to a halt when she hears a familiar voice calling out her name.

She isn’t surprised, she knew he’d see her, he always sees her. He is standing on the top of the stairs staring with pleading eyes at her.

Please, Stella. Don’t.”

She turns around just enough to meet the man’s gaze but once again closes her eyes for that gaze is what’s kept her here for so long in the first place and she cannot stay another minute.

“You should never have brought me here,” tears now run down rosy cheeks.

“I know.” 

He starts to move down the stone steps. Cautios, slow, as if the woman below him will be frightened and run away like a dear in the woods if he acts recklessly. Alas, it is far too late.

With a sob she brings one hand to her mouth to keep herself from completely breaking down. She is so close to starting up the steps separating them, meeting him half way and throwing herself in his arms, kissing him, like she did the night before. And it takes every ounce of willpower in her body not to. Instead, she forces herself to turn around and choke out the last she’ll ever word to him;

“I’m sorry, Maxwell.”

- before disappearing into the night.

Can’t tell if the current influx of designers shooting in rural African countries is cultural appreciation or cultural appropriation mixed with a hint of exploitation. 

Thoughts?


I.e, the most current Stella Mc. campaign is beautiful beyond belief but idk..its sus.