smalltragedy

[smalltragedy]

it's something that lydia's been anticipating for her entire life; a rich, adoring husband who she can hang off the arm of - surrounded by snobs who will never be as beautiful as she, even as she ages and wrinkles and de - wrinkles with an unhealthy dose of botox and fillers, until she's more plastic than woman and still none the happier. right now she's surrounded by those aforementioned snobs, and insecurity is swallowing her whole with it's widening mouth, sharp spindles in the form of the elderly's ever - lingering gaze. is her dress long enough? is her jewelry too flashy - a piece of hair out of place? the time frame given to her only allowed her so much time to get ready; six hours to prepare condensed in only half the time. unacceptable. but then - apollo leans down, his breath brushing against her ear and sending shivers down her spine. and lydia smiles - her brief worries of finding her footing suddenly gone by his short, albeit sweet words. "we are pearls, are we not? ever so shiny and bright - au naturale dare i say - at least we'll fully decompose when we enter cemetery soil together, unlike them. nothing left but implants and microplastics in the lot of them - it's so tragic, isn't it?" as if it isn't her fate, as well - to end up exactly like them. that's all she's ever wanted - isn't it? her gaze is sharp as her voice lilts a note higher than necessary, making contact with one of the more stuffy - looking women present before turning fully towards apollo. "champagne, my love - you mentioned it, did you not? i'm feeling ever so parched, i think we ought to find a few flutes for ourselves. may you lead the way? you're so much more familiar with these things than i."

closed for @smalltragedy. / he doesn't get it. he is slightly tipsy at most, and had half expected drink to knock some semblance of understanding into him, but none of this seems particularly noteworthy to him. perhaps it's that lydia is poor. apollo engages in a very brief fantasy of the two of them as some sort of rags to riches love story. she is beautiful, and he is beautiful (and what else is there? nothing, of course).

they walk onto the floor of the restaurant and are suddenly surrounded by old rich cunts that apollo does not really want to be speaking to at all. he remembers, now, why he'd been so desperate for a plus one. how he'd thanked god when he'd seen lydia at the top of his contact list. he turns to smile at her. leans down, murmurs into her ear: "we're pearls surrounded by fossils. jesus fucking christ."

#˗ˏˋ interactions ⟶ ❛ lydia montgomery ❜ #˗ˏˋ apollo blackthorn ⟶ ❛ lydia montgomery ❜ #c: apollo blackthorn #i love being insane

[smalltragedy]

Their days had felt more and more drawn - out, like Viktor had been a wrung - out rag left to collect mildew across the windowsill, a chore left half - done, unfinished - trapping mold beneath the dusty fabric and rotting the wooden frame it laid atop. Everything had felt like that, of as late - a sick rot that crumbled with the smallest tap - and Viktor with no urge to fix the foundation of it all. Were it a lack of muse - fingertips unmotivated to pave new paths across their clay, now left bone - dry and incomplete; or the heavy feeling that clambered inside the cavern of their chest and made home amongst bone and sinew? They had been left manic for so long, an empty tank running on heavily - dosed fumes; that their depression left the single impression of a shockwave to their entire system. It hadn't been Viktor, moving on their own - but a higher figure stringing them up by the joints and urging them to keep moving. They couldn't remember their roll out of bed, or the trek to the door - but the small, curling smile set upon their face was all muscle memory as they gazed down at Lana. "Where's your cookies then? Can't fucking - claim to be the Girl Scouts without the fucking - cookies." They leaned into the doorframe, fatigue masked as casual interest in her clothes, suddenly - a hand reaching out slowly to peel back the fur - lined collar of her coat as if they already knew what laid beneath. "As if I'd say no to such a fucking - humble request," Viktor's tone was teasing, a direct contrast to their gaunt, tired appearance, and they nudged the door open a little further as they lifted back off from the frame, gesturing with the tilt of their head. "Gotta warn you it's a bit, fucking - barbaric in there. Red flags all around. Don't got a lot of, fucking, uh - sculpting, going on right now. Just - paints, and shit. You want something to fucking, uh - drink?"

where: port apartments for: @smalltragedy

As soon as Lana's hole had healed from a furious romp among a farmer's strawberry crops, nerve ends staticky as an old television begging for a set of fingertips to smudge their screens, she'd wrapped a long Afghan coat over a scrap of red lace and called it a day. It was a miracle, really, no longer bound to a wheelchair that Caleb had to creak around town, back blown and anus in tatters. No matter. Healed, now. Prancing like a hobgoblin; she'd never been so thankful to regain full use of her legs; Lana arrived at Viktor's front door with a coat-hanger wedged grin, lapels fisted shut with her left hand as her right knocked out a discordant tune. "Hieieieieeieiee!" As soon as the door opened, her smile conceded slightly, just as megawatt but five times more genuine. Viktor reminded her of a picture she'd seen online, once, of a butterfly suckling blood from an open wound. Grotesque, in some ways. Beautiful. "Girl scouts calling. I wanna, um--," she got a little squirmy, swirly, laughter escaping as she fidgeted her left boot; every excuse was going to sound so transparent, "I wanna see what you're working on. Like, sculpture stuff, fart gallery projects, la-dee-da. Totally curious, full George. Can I see?"

#˗ˏˋ interactions ⟶ ❛ viktor samuels ❜ #˗ˏˋ lana jameson ⟶ ❛ viktor samuels ❜ #c: lana jameson #depression tw #:D

[smalltragedy]

deadzne​:

          liz offers a smile – unsure if it was for them or for herself. “i’m so sorry, yeah – those guys were hassling me and i told them off… then walked away – you know, you just had to be there.” she says all in one breath, probably sounding like a jumbled mess – something she was good at for some reason. “apparently i can’t be a bad bitch and watch where i’m going at the same time”. she sighed, rolling her eyes at herself. “but, yeah! i’m fine. just headed back to my shop! it’s called funky buds; we sell records. you should stop by if you get the chance! the least i can do is give you a big discount for nearly taking us both out.”

it’s like the life wooshes back into gabe at the words guys and hassling, rocking back on his heels to spare a glance pass her shoulder, at the aforementioned men, wrinkles creasing around his eyes in a squint against light. “yeah?” he sounds more serious, now - more alert, more alive, before easing back into himself, “you’re good now, though, right?” gabe looks back at her, thumb coming to brush the tip of his nose - his arm is littered in shitty stick and pokes, half scarred over or half faded already. “men are cunts. most of ‘em, anyways. if they give you anymore trouble i can - i mean, you obviously handled them yourself, being a bad bitch and all - but,” he’s restless, now, like there’s a permanent itch beneath his skin and he can’t reach it - drops the topic without finishing his thoughts, “funky buds. that’s a cool fucking name - records? i’m a fucking - uh, musician, actually - part of a band, kind of. sorta.” he hadn’t been back at practice since the accident in the woods - felt himself stalling at just the thought alone, “but i also do solo shit - ah, fuck, anyways - yeah, yeah no that sounds legit. mind if i head back with you?” another glance towards the men behind her, “if you wanna hear any of it - i have demos on my phone, somewhere.”

#( gabriel de leon. ) threads. / head on the ground. #( gabriel de leon. ) interactions. / elizabeth baysel. #c:elizabeth baysel #smoking tw #jst fr the gif

[smalltragedy]

svltairs​:

open to  :  all  /  @irvingstarters​​ location :  the Beach 

     “  kinda messed up, isn’t it?  ” she says aloud, more to herself than the person walking past, as she bends down to pick up yet another plastic bottle and place it into her oversized tote that she carries just for this reason. “ it’s so beautiful down here, and yet others don’t care enough to do their part to preserve that beauty.  ”  with that, she steps closer to the other, quickly pulling up a virtual flyer on her phone ( no paper, of course, that’s a waste ), holding it out towards the other. “ we’re actually doing a big beach clean-up this weekend. you should stop by, if you’re free.  ”

with the ocean, long and vast and beautiful, in front of her - lydia’s eyes are sharply peeled to her phone, instead, platform sandals only slightly digging into the sand beneath her as she scrolls instagram with a brief sneer that should’ve long been permanent. “huh?” she says, eventually, eyes drifting up from behind rose-tinted lenses, one hand still loosely attached to her phone and the other straightening out the strap of her tank top,��“oh - yeah, no, like. totally - yeah,” she’s nodding along, now, giving the flyer a quick skim. moments earlier she’d carelessly tossed a couple of napkins into a trashcan - but the wind had picked them up and carried them away. lydia, of course, had turned a blind eye. now - she smiled at august, like she’d been eating it all up. “i love, like, um, ecologists like you, y’know - it’s like, so tragic when people disrespect the beaches. i’ve always like, loved sand. and like, the ocean. and whatever. and irving is so, like, quaint and cute, it’s like - who would even want to litter, anyways? i’ll like - totally see, if i can go. i have, like ... a like, um ... dentist’s appointment, but afterwards? i’m pretty sure i’m like, free.”

#( lydia montgomery. ) threads. / whole lies with a half smile. #( lydia montgomery. ) interactions. / august barlow. #c:august barlow #i am so sorry fr lydia. fake ass. #KLFDHGLFKSDHLKG #disclaimer i wld personally nvr litter. lydia is jst a bad person.

[smalltragedy]

solitvdcs​:

boxes upon boxes, most of the recently shipped variety — he’d very much subscribed to the “nothing in the apartment but a futon and television” lifestyle that was stereotypical of guys his age, though if it was more from lack of funds or lack of taste was anybody’s guess. speaking of taste — where was the pizza he ordered? he looked around the room as though that would make a pizza appear, only for a knock to sound on his door — had he managed to summon a pizza with just his mind? he stepped around the stacks towards where he was pretty sure the door was, swinging it open after accidentally knocking over an open box of something with a lot of packing peanuts. shit, he’d have to clean that up later. as he turned his attention back to the person at the door, his brows furrowed — no pizza in sight. “you’re — not delivering my pizza,” he said, as though he was hoping they would deliver a different answer. | @irvingstarters​

living in irving felt much like a blur, to lydia - who was often already whirlwind enough as it is, a tasmanian devil spinning down the sidewalks and pulling all the leaves from each tree and bush, leaving them comically barren in her wake. whiplash - it was whiplash, what lydia felt. from new york city to irving, familiarity gone despite all the summers spent there. she felt more stranger than known to herself - but she’d always felt like a mannequin, constantly pulling on and off different costumes for different occasions. today, she played the nosy neighbor. technically his neighbor - though her bedroom had no bed, just an old chaise that she’d nabbed from facebook marketplace (and had, in the deep dark of the night where nobody could see her extend that much physical effort, hauled into her apartment herself) - and her sewing machine. “ew, no -” her face contorted into disgust for the slimmest second before folding into a too-wide smile, “i’m like, your neighbor or something. totally fun, and whatever - i just thought that, like, OMG - new apartment, new start, whateve, i’d come and like, greet you. y’know? like, i would’ve totally brought my roommate but i don’t really even remember her name, and that would’ve been a totally awks convo. oh - i like, also just moved in, by the way. is your water pressure like, totally a dud too?” for the entirety of her spiel, lydia had shifted between smoothing out the invisible wrinkles of her skirt, twirling strands of her hair, and swaying side to side as if a palm tree in the breeze; unable to rest for a single moment. “you look like, super familiar by the way?”

#( lydia montgomery. ) threads. / whole lies with a half smile. #( lydia montgomery. ) interactions. / andrew upston. #c:andrew upston #hello mels we plot soon i just wanted to. reply to this. #ignore tht its a period gif lydia is blonde rn. #DLKFHGFSDLKF

[smalltragedy]

ncbodyshome​:

Magda, wearing a pair of pilot goggles that made her look as if she was about to start melding, an oversized t-shirt with wolves on and seemingly no pants underneath, lazily held onto a leash attached to a snuffling hog in one hand and a dark green Nokia in the other. The hog, stoutest belly ever recorded, snorted it’s way through an unguarded flower bed, budging up every root with it’s snout. Magda did nothing to prevent it, clicking mindlessly through her game of Snake, until she caught eyes with someone passing. Expressionless, it was rare that Magda demonstrated a visible reaction to anything – even a plummeting plane or a spontaneous combustion. “You want to pet Chungus?” The hog’s name, apparently. Maybe not. She did like lying. He tore up another flower, sneezed, then gobbled at the stem. “Unless you’re homophobic. He’s LGBT.”

Seeing Magda evokes the same sensation as waking from a deep slumber, sharp exhale that pieces a lung and deflates the other; it’s both good and bad, which leaves it neutral - which leaves a wispy smile on Gabe’s face, cigarette in a delicate balancing act - bottom lip the tightrope, the ground being the far distance the trapezist will eventually fall. It tastes like dirt - but most things taste like dirt, now; like a freshly disturbed grave. He thinks that’s probably just the tobacco - and the fact that he found the cigarette in someone’s garden bed, soiling the petunias and the tulips and whatever else there were - the hog’s eating one of his shoelaces, and they awkwardly shuffle back some, but Chungus follows. “He can be gay and homophobic,” they reply, lightly, “We’re fucking, kin. He likes my shoelaces, Mr. President.” Their knees crack as they crouch - crackle and pop, bones forever stiff; Gabe scratches the hog on the chin, nods alongside his grunts, “He’s cool as shit - where the fuck he come from?”

#( gabriel de leon. ) threads. / head on the ground. #( gabriel de leon. ) interactions. / magda wolfe. #c:magda wolfe #injury mention #mayb fr the lung #smoking tw #homophobia mention #tho the lung didnt actua- #shakes ur hand suddenly

[smalltragedy]

deadzne​:

          back in irving after a few years; nothing looked different to liz. the same boardwalk leading to the pier, the same waves giving the surfers something to do; even the same misogynistic tendancies from guys as she walked by – who decided to hoot and holler at her like a bunch of toddlers at snack time. but liz wasn’t the same. she grew much more impatient with people during her time in LA. putting on a fake smile, she walked right up to the small group of grown men in what looked like their 40′s. all 3 of them sitting at an outside table sporting beer bellies and receding hairlines, liz bent down to have her face close enough that they could both see how stern and serious she was and so that they could hear her when she said softly – “if you think your obnoxius voices and the putrid stinch that you call ‘manly musk’ can make up for the fact that you’ve never made a woman happy in bed all your life – you’re wrong sir.” she said, her smile returning afterwards (this time very genuine) as the man’s blood pressure was rising by the look of how red his face was getting. standing back up before he could give her a piece of his small pea-sized mind, she shouted behind her “enjoy your mid-life crisis!” as she walked away ignoring the man’s shrill voice demanding respect from ‘youngsters’. she continued on her way to the pier, taking in the scene until she accidentally bumps into someone. “oh! i’m so sorry!” she spoke, her tone much kinder than what she had given the nearly bald man from before. 

open to all @irvingstarters​

much like the two-headed calf gazing up at the night sky, gabe could only see double the irving horizon; double the boats dotting the distance, double the sandcastles littering the shore (the mighty walls of each empire falling with each wave, defenders too busy running and chasing the ocean as it comes in, and comes out) - double, double, double. the air is salty - sweet, too, wafts of melting sundaes mixing with each fish that’s brought up from a fisherman’s reel and over the pier’s ledge. would be nauseating if it hadn’t become nostalgic, in a way - nostalgic in the same way that a still-warm hole in the ground was, or the dark alley between two new york streets. but nostalgia doesn’t always settle smooth, does not always digest easily - and he finds himself wandering back down the pier (or was he going up, now? where had he come from, where had he been before?) - for better or for worse, the unease feels like a strong hand clenched wrong over a knot in his shoulder, like he should be looking back and swatting back the fist that’s not there. it’s just that, that they’re doing, when the body collides with theirs. the gasp comes from somewhere deep - like he’d just been put back inside his body, or maybe instead surprised that she hadn’t just phased through his. felt like that’s all people did, then-a-days. pass right through him. “shit -” he starts, jerked back with wide, blinking eyes. his hands automatically pass by his pockets, slight taps to assure everything’s still there (not that there’s much to protect, to begin with; gum wrappers and the random condom, half-smoked cigarettes that when asked, they’d claim they were ‘saving them for later’), slight release of tension as they exhale, “nah - it’s all good. needed the fucking - h’um - shock. get the blood pumping, could probably run a marathon now.” double vision and all, maybe - looking back up at the two of her, gabe offers a reassuring grin that contradicts the state he’s in, “you good, though? feels like we were both distracted, y’know?”

#( gabriel de leon. ) threads. / head on the ground. #( gabriel de leon. ) interactions. / elizabeth baysel. #c:elizabeth baysel #hmmm unsure if this has 2 b tagged w anything

[smalltragedy]

;; GABRIEL DE LEON — SPARKNOTES EDITION.

* justice smith, demi man + he/they | you know gabriel de leon, right? they’re twenty-three, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, seven years? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to 1984 (infinite jest) by the used like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole waking up in a body as heavy as the dead, emotions always on the verge of spilling over - you laugh before the punch lands, the belief that every encounter you have will be the last thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is october 31st, so they’re a scorpio, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( james, 21, est, they/them )

today’s shuffle includes: 1984 (infinite jest) / the used, where is my mind? / the pixies, blister in the sun / the violet femmes.

MINOR MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE, DRUG USE.

profile.

full name: gabriel ‘gabe’ de leon.

birthday: october 31st, 1997.

big three: scorpio sun, scorpio moon, gemini ascending.

unspoken label: the icarian.

sexuality: bisexual (heavily masc-leaning).

current mood: buried. 😪😫

current location: [[[cannot be found]]]

last tweet: matched with myself on grindr hoping theyre from the future dont text x

PINTEREST.

summary.

as far as anybody is concerned its always jst been gabe n his mom sonia in the new jersey suburbs. there’s hints of a forlorn whirlwind romance taking central stage in spain n maybe a few other gabriels across the pond. far far away frm them.

this life is pretty sweet however, fr the most part. sonia is flighty n they dnt stay in one place fr very long bt the suburbs r all the same anyways, n so are all the kids, too. gabe takes to riding the train to new york after school everyday n by the time he gets to sonia’s work she’d b getting off n they’d get a slice n maybe go to central park, or coney island. bt most the time they’d jst take the train right back home.

when he gets older he skips school, sometimes, jst to spend the day in nyc. takes the train after sonia’s so theyre nvr quite caught up. liked learning, hated school. hated the kids, too, besides a few of the good ones in marching band.

the more time he spends in nyc the more he gets involved in the diy punk scene. instills a love of shitty stick n pokes n loud shitty music thts angry n genuine n feels like it matters. gives him the sense of justice tht leaves him in the face of literally. anybody being a cunt n leading 2 a few (well-meaning n definitely intentional) fights.

sonia remarries a guy who by all means is. respectable n good fr her if not jst a little boring fr the brain of a teenager who spends half of his nights screaming his little heart out w his diy band, his name is either craig or paul or bill. maybe george. he’s an accountant, they bonded once over the mets.

(violence mention) when he’s sixteen he gets expelled fr a fight tht wsnt his fault bt ws promptly ended by him n his parents figure its a good time fr a change of scenery n whoosh! to bart’s hometown of irving, north carolina. didnt stop all the fights, bt at least they knew where he ws more often than not <3

n its easy fr gabe 2 make friends in irving’s hs marching band program n soon theyre playing shitty rock music out of their garage n making hideaways in the woods surrounding abernathy creek n staying up late jst 2 finish a good dnd session n smtms being a teenager isnt all bad.

bt high school ends n friends go 2 college n gabe finds himself jst :) in the same place. all static bt also all still-like. sick limbo.

still doesnt rly know what he wants in life. hs had a few scratch ins w mental health so is currently jst. trying to find his footing. currently has a tattoo apprenticeship n is a licensed piercer n still fucks around w music tho thts more of a hobby than anything else. jst wants 2 pay his rent n make due <3

main ideas.

(drugs mention) currently convinced hes at least half-dead after a particularly graphic acid trip in the woods tht he still hs not quite recovered frm <3 bt if its any condolences, his friends also think hes a little bit dead.

either feels rly intensely or barely anything at all <3 the things he cares abt he makes evident jst like. overfilled w passion. 

needs 2 b surrounded by ppl esp ppl who love him bt will. at times succumb 2 company tht only tolerates him fr motives nt so pure of heart if it means nt spending so much time alone. rly throws his whole pussy into every interaction. clingy!

cant keep his mouth shut, he’ll keep ur secrets bt will dig himself into a hole. always hs 2 speak up when some fucked shit is going down bc thts what good ppl do n if gabe knows one thing its tht hes a good person. 

deeply deeply hides his liddle insecurities abt being like. eternally alone n unloved 4evr thru an overall golden retriever aura. ride or die even when going into flames.

nerd. likes superhero shit. nerd. dont ask him shit abt school bt yea he knws way 2 much the dc iceberg. good w video games as long as theyre classics. i dont tihnk he knows what a wii is. 

jst a little punk. not the tallest motherfucker bt makes up fr it w his ability 2 fkn obliverate in the pit. covered in tattoos bc he likes hw it feels. its relaxing. he works at a tattoo shop. likes 2 tattoo his friends fr his portfolio :D

smtms wishy washy moody. doesnt knw wht he wants smtms or is smtms too afraid to move forward n achieve it. hates when ppl leave n will do anything 2 avoid it, even if it means leaving first. jst assumes the worst smtms n is nt the most <3 communitive. 

hangs out in the woods by abernathy n lilac half the time if u cnt find him anywhere else. likes taking walks ~in nature~ helps him relax n he claims its healing. vegan n u know it. animal rights 5evr bt also knows what ethical consumption is <3

fake it until u make it nt 2 quote lydia bt it is an ongoing theme. represses self loathing so tht he cn appear more functioning than he is <3 king of fake positivity <3 tries 2 make everything a laff when smtms its okay 2 nt use humor 2 cope. 

yes 2 adhd yes 2 hyperactivity/impulsivity in particular. high fives them in solidarity xcept like the other coin side. good at literally nvr staying still. if hes nt super visibly restless like rocking on his heels then hes simply jst. vibrating at the speed of a hummingbird. will cut u off in convo and will go on a whole tangent. please give him a fuckin finger trap.

a little bit self destructive n a lotta bit impulsive. likes 2 go fast n go hard n smtms its okay 2 b like. im getting old i cn chill out a bit now. cooldown. this is a sublimial message 2 gabe.

always tired despite the amt of sleep he gets which is often nt a lot 2 begin with bt <3 yknow. probably hs bad dreams half the time. wldnt call them nightmares bt jst dreams tht leave u feeling a bit uncomfortable.

horror slut. believes in cryptids n the paranormal. open 2 debates. loves warm colors n hs an eyebrow piercing. a lip piercing. is living their best emo life in 2021. a little outdated on the trends cld not ask them abt tiktok bt thts ok thats. fr the best.

new jersey is a personality trait believe me. so is smoking a shitty brand of cigarettes.

whore.

connections to b formed. ;)

#irvingintro #violence mention #drug use mention #drugs mention #jst covering both phrases #nthing bad bt we knw gabe <3 #smoking tw #tho. fr the gif

[smalltragedy]

incoming txt ➥ spam??

JEREMIAH: https://img.wattpad.com/cover/209720022-288-k372020.jpg

JEREMIAH: shit

JEREMIAH: i'm sorry

JEREMIAH: i can't even explain it really it was meant for someone else

JEREMIAH: im not into that just so u know like i dont get off on that or anything it was a joke for a friend

LYDIA: STOP

LYDIA: STOP

lydia: CANCEL SPONGELOVE

LYDIA: i dnt undrstnd i txt'd stop like it told me 2 bt i keep getting these studpid pics every hr ??? i even blocked the last numbrs ???

LYDIA: where is ur customer service ???

#( lydia montgomery. ) texts. #( lydia montgomery. ) interactions. / jeremiah banks. #c:jeremiah banks #2 clarify u know those texts where its like. #welcome 2 ur daily catmail subscription. type cats fr ur first pic. type stop to stop. #thts what happened 2 lydia. #shes haunted.

[smalltragedy]

📱 prod. gorbinskiy

lydia: do you think im pretty?

lydia: [...]

lydia: [...]

lydia: are you srs?

lydia: [lydia montgomery has sent a voice memo]

#( lydia montgomery. ) texts. #( lydia montgomery. ) interactions. / otis gorbinskiy. #c:otis gorbinskiy #SLDKHFASHKDGHLKAHSKDG #god.

[smalltragedy]

+1 notif — facebook.

Lydia Montgomery is in a relationship with Luka Forero.

#( lydia montgomery. ) social media. #( lydia montgomery. ) interactions. / lukas forero. #c:lukas forero #this is a joke. #(or is it?) #;) #LMAO

[smalltragedy]

;; LYDIA ROSEMARY MONTGOMERY — SPARKNOTES EDITION.

* anya taylor joy, cis woman + she/her | you know lydia montgomery, right? they’re twenty-three, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, nine years (on and off)? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to cheerleader by st. vincent like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole handwritten love letters with kiss-stained envelopes, dripping candle wax and burnt fingertips, sarah paulson screaming, sobbing, crying thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is june 22nd, so they’re a cancer, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( james, 22, est, they/them )

today’s shuffle includes: cheerleader / st. vincent, its different for girls / of montreal, shut up kiss me / angel olsen.

MINOR MENTIONS OF ABANDONMENT, FAMILIAL DEATH.

profile.

full name: lydia rosemary montgomery.

birthday: june 22nd, 1998.

big three: cancer sun, gemini moon, leo ascending.

unspoken label: the chameleon.

sexuality: bisexual.

current mood: furious 😡😡😡

current location: [[[cannot be found]]]

last tweet: whoevr stole my depop package off my front step UR ASS IS GRASS !!!!!

PINTEREST.

summary.

the result of a grey’s anatomy affair plot gone terribly wrong  (our location? nyc baybey)<3 never knew her dad bt her mom spoke of him like he ws spun of gold, straight frm dreams (spoiler: he was NAUT).

very lonely growing up bc her mom worked all the time n wsnt able 2 rly. emotionally b there fr her. n so wld try 2 attach herself 2 any parental figure. notorious fr tantrums, tattletales, and copying evry action of her popular classmates <3 was ... generally disliked.

thought tht if she proved her worth n ws jst. the very best at everything tht maybe her dad wld reach out 2 her bt she ws nvr met with any. acknowledgment. ws nvr actually the best at anything. not in grades or ballet (her dance instructor stopped her one day jst 2 tell her she’d never make it into a company [lydia abruptly quitting afterwards]) or modeling.

marina vc. feel like the worst so act like im the best aka fake it until u make it aka copying the upper eastside manhattan private school girlies to the best of her ability. jst catering to whoevr she deemed the most influential. 

jst learnt 2 mold herself into whatevr form smbdy wanted her in whether it ws the perfect friend or girlfriend or whatevr. fake! it! until! u! make! it! only 2 ultimately always end up as the bridesmaid, nvr the bride. took crit. psychic damage frm this.

anyways if u cant b the best then u might as well lie abt being the best. became a bit of a habitual liar n thus built a web of them. wld introduce herself w whole new accomplishments n experiences n parents n smtms names too.

(death mention) she ws already deep into this when she started spending summers in irving at the infant age of 14. wld rly build up her nyc experience 2 all the locals n wore all the knock off designer goods she cld purchase w her tiny allowance n holiday funds. wanted 2 b mysterious n cool n city chic. made her grandmother (whom she stayed with) swear on her life 2 nvr expose the truth. n she truly did take it 2 her grave.

found perhaps the one thing she ws genuinely good at during her senior yr of high school, when she’d chosen fashion as one of her electives. masterful at the practical aspect, the skill. bt creatively she hd nothing 2 offer. nt a single original thought in tht brain of hers. n then she majored in public relations! tho the goal ws mostly 2 find a rich or soon-to-be-rich partner n live her best housewife life i wnt lie. 

suffers identity loss when nt surrounded by ppl she cn mimic so she joined a sorority n p much got as close 2 being a socialite as she cld get without actually having any pull 2 her name.

playing pretend is expensive hwevr so she decided to go into freelancing. by sewing her own knock offs n selling them like. out of her own closet essentially. bt this got her some bad attention n after a liddle bit of panic she fled 2 her grandma’s old house in irving, north carolina n moved here permanently pretty recently <3

main ideas.

she still sells knock offs on depop find her @lydiadesignerdeetz411.

giving me bratz tweevil twin anastasia tremaine sharpay evans vibes bt a little less rancid n maybe a little more sad instead.

literally doesnt blink when ur talking to her.

online schools @ a nearby university n is one of the social media interns of a company. when she’s feeling particularly upset she’ll post passive aggressive (or straight up distressing) tweets n captions on their official accounts. they hvn’t been able 2 pinpoint which intern it is.

tht being said she is a mess. changes her personality 2 fit whoever she’s talking to, desperate 2 appeal 2 their interests n aesthetic n vibes.

connections r everything nowadays. does not talk abt her parents like evr. she loves her mom bt its like. ruff. complicated. onion layers. 

bad habit of attaching herself 2 ppl until ultimately breaking all contact whenevr she feels necessary. hs burnt many bridges!

takes things personally n generally is pretty sensitive. will overreact w a theatrical flair tht cld almost b comedic if it wsnt a little embarrassing of a 23 yr old. why she does this?

falls in love all the time, everyday, n social media is her bff. n her diary. n her detective sidekick. also experiences heartbreak all the time everyday </3 :D

cries everyday probably tbh abt smth small usually bt. smtms not

hides her. frankly intense nature or maybe instead accentuates it instead with her ballerina posture, model’s demeanor, etc. etc. upright, chin high. intimidating only until she meets you w an outrageous claim.

fuckin loves gossip. will spread ur shit. has loyalty bt also has no loyalty. jst cant help it she loves a good reality show.

a little bit mean n a little bit jealous n a little bit alexis. defensive when confronted.

oddly sentimental.

collects heart-shaped mirrors of all varieties. her room is adorned. she’s obsessed w hearts, flora, and gold accents <3

gaudy n excessive as fuck. loves spring colors n silky fabrics.

is both very empathic n very apathetic. doesnt know often if she’s crying fr others’ bc shes sad fr them or bc she jst feels the need to? simply does not know herself.

she cares is jst. unsure of hw to share it in a way tht cld evr b genuine. unfortunate!

a smoker :/ bt she uses cigarette holders <3

likes the aesthetic of like. classic art bt doesnt knw shit abt it. fake it until u make it.

easily impressionable bt also a firm gatekeep gaslight girlboss. has layers.

cries on tiktok specifically.

will let u back into her life bt also holds lifetime grudges. ur jst setting urself up fr a life of passive aggression n rly cold air.

ultimately is jst very lonely n doesnt knw hw to settle with it. desperately wants to b able to fall back on smbdy bt it isnt happening n prob shldnt

chronic hypocrite. materialistic, fianicially irresponsible. often selfish n immature. overthinks n idealizes.

hs a high shrill nervous laugh.

says shes patient bt u cn clearly tell she is extremely impatient. either over-prepared or under-prepared.

still wishes on dandelion puffs n shooting stars n every 11:11 even tho nt a single wish of hers’ hs come true.

fuckin loves romance novels. period/historical dramas n romances. erotica novels!

la croix fan :/

she IS going to hv a bleach blonde to redhead to shorter redhead arc i already know it. i hv the resources.

her only two modes r garfield n hummingbird. this makes sense. shes jst out of this realm. this plane. shes living somewhere surreal where life needs 2 cater 2 her. bt we love her fr it.

connections to b formed. ;)

#irvingintro #the shortest intro ive done n its nt even tht short. its alrite. a skim. #abandonment mention #death mention #nothing srs!

[smalltragedy]

olepxstls​:

sometimes heat became too unbearable, especially when the steps his feet took were starting to feel like miles. but brooks new that someone would eventually stop. he needed a few things from town and lilac ridge wasn’t necessarily the closest. didn’t he have a car? yeah, but he was living out of it and that meant that there was a possibility that he’d lose his spot. with a thumb out toward the road as he walked toward irving, he felt like he’d be better off holding a sign. maybe he could quote john mulaney. i’m homeless. i’m gay. i’m new in town. i need a ride. too straight forward? maybe. 

though the site of a car slowing down as they passed him, or what he thought was them slowing down, the male began to jog toward the car. “please be stopping, please be stopping.” maybe running wasn’t the best thing to do toward a car for various reasons. “i just need a ride to town.” he cooed out.

the ac in the car had long been broken - at least philly supposed so, windows cranked down on all four doors, wind tangling in her hair and locks lashing against her skin - the leather in the car was old and cracked, foam beneath partially eaten up from wear and tear. scratches in the interior - dents on the exterior; engine’s sputter drowned out by the crackling of fleetwood mac blasting on every remaining, working speaker. when she drove too fast across bumps and potholes, it felt like the roof of the car would just up and fly away. needless to say, it’d been like finally coming across her dream car.

it’s why she’d taken it for a joy ride, key found still turned into the driver side’s keyhole. practically free real estate. and philly was an opportunist, out of many other -ists. it’s why she’d slowed for the gangly figure on the side of the road. it was nothing but polite to pick up the ones who wandered, and by the time she realized he wasn’t the highway ghost she’d always dreamed of picking up to traverse with her and her sister, it’d been too late (and too rude) to drive away. she breaked, and the car rolled a few more feet forward before fully stopping. philly unbuckled and clambered halfway out the passenger seat’s window, “hello,” she greeted, “are you in need of assistance?”

#( philomena carmichael. ) threads. / hands up to the sky. #( philomena carmichael. ) interactions. / brooks ellard. #c:brooks ellard #homelessness tw #john mulaney tw

[smalltragedy]

olepxstls​:

a huff of breath came out of the male was he walked through the doors of cutie pie’s. back to the normal routine of wednesday night supper at the diner. it had been a long day, a day that wasn’t supposed to end at the restaurant. “so, my mama took it upon herself to make me a dating app profile.” scout sat down on the stool at the bar gently, talking to the other person. “i only got three matches in two weeks —- got a date too.” so someone did find him attractive. “but i got stood up. so, i got this extra money to spend.” he looked at the other. “dinner and dessert on me?” @irvingstarters​

she’d felt like the hollowed trunk of a tree, hands wrapped around the utensils before her like she’d been a once-feral child now learning tableside manners, straw to her milkshake chewed until it could no longer be sipped from (not that it mattered any longer, cherry stem at the bottom of the empty glass) - “hm?” philly blinked twice, head tilted to the side as she spun a quarter on the bar stool; fork and knife loosening in her iron grip, “oh. i’ve never mailed in my own profile, but my sister says it’s all about supply and demand. perhaps you’re currently in low demand.” she stated it plainly - would’ve been insulting if not for her lack of tone, maybe. the only shift in expression had been at the words ‘on me’, ears practically perking up like a dog’s as she glanced up towards the kitchen, “that’s a very kind offer, i graciously accept. do you have a budget?”

#( philomena carmichael. ) threads. / hands up to the sky. #( philomena carmichael. ) interactions. / scout matthews. #c:scout matthews

[smalltragedy]

cvastals​:

Poised cross-legged on the beach, Frankie had put together a haphazard and frankly sad looking sand castle. It consisted of more sticks than actual sand, tilting to the point where it looked as if it could collapse at any second, but if he was worried he didn’t show it. Instead, he spent his time slapping a leaf off it and grumbling under his breath - would have continued with the method if he didn’t notice someone close by approaching. Probably wouldn’t have been able to notice the lighter shoved in the middle of it until they were close enough, “Hi,” he greeted, still staring at the castle, “I’m, uh… I’m manifesting my lighter starts working. It died but… I want a cigarette, so. If you know how to, uh, manifest properly, I could use the help.” @irvingstarters​

Tennis rackets strapped to bare feet, Philly had taken to the beach as if she’d been trekking the arctic - metal detector mimicking a walking stick, her treasures clanking together in a plastic pail, hair as dark and clumped as the seaweed that trailed the shore. “Hello,” she replied - consonants crumbling and vowels oddly sharp, metal detector beeping towards the lighter like a dog drawn to a scent as she came to stop before Frankie. Sea lice bites curled around her shins in a numberless connect-the-dots and her free hand curled its fingers in anticipation of a scratch, though held restraint as she bent forward to more closely examine the sandcastle, metal detector falling with a small crash into an already partially collapsed wing of the palace. Philly blinked once, then slid her treasure pail from where it’d been held mostly in constraint by the crook of her elbow - held it out towards Frankie with an offering shake, other hand clasped to her knee. “I’ve collected many treasures for many miles now,” She paused, but for a moment too long, “If any are of value to you, I can offer it’s assistance. But I’m afraid that I only barter.”

#( philomena carmichael. ) threads. / hands up to the sky. #( philomena carmichael. ) interactions. / frankie noel. #c:frankie noel #hi :P

[smalltragedy]

* natalia dyer, nonbinary + she/they | you know philomena carmichael, right? they’re twenty-one, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, a day? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to oo-de-lally by roger miller like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole wind whipping around your hair, the gentleness of decomposition, a naked blur dancing around the flames of an everlasting fire thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is april 20th, so they’re a taurus, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( james, 22, est, they/them )

hiii im back ... tentatively .. looks at u all ominously

CANCER, TRAUMA, DEPERSONALIZATION / DEREALIZATION, DEATH, GRAPHIC MENTION OF DECAY, INSECTS MENTION TW.

mini playlist.

oo-de-lally / roger miller, wonderfully bizarre / bendigo fletcher, dust in your pocket / glass animals, gecgecgec / 100 gecs, nantes / beirut, cherry-coloured funk / cocteau twins, not allowed / tv girl, space song / beach house, dog food / 100 gecs.

statistics.

full name: philomena brontë carmichael

nickname(s): philly, phil, mena, etc.

birthday: april 20th, 2000.

zodiac: taurus sun, scorpio moon, aries ascending.

temperament: improvisor / phlegmatic.

label: the halycon.

sexuality: demisexual.

pinterest.

biography.

a middle child belonging to christopher and imogen carmichael - two stanford professors. christopher specialized in british literature whilst imogen specialized in the classics. hence the name.

the order of siblings goes as such: lysander, elektra, juno, philomena, and twins orion & valora. the deal was that everybody had a greek (or in juno’s case, roman) first name and a middle name inspired by a piece of british literature circa 1800s and under. a family of nerds, if you will.

so, clearly - right off the bat, their parents are … eccentric. they’re both in love with their respected topic, and with each other, and with their kids. the carmichael family is a happy family.

they each have their own quirks and whatnot - though philly’s always been particularly dreamy - even as a child, she’d spend hours watching clouds or caterpillars or the leaves blow in the wind rather than play with other kids. she wasn’t a shy kid - she just had her own interests.

hardship doesn’t hit the family until philomena is five and starts having splitting headaches. they’re slow at first - but as soon as she’s seeing spots and unable to walk in a straight line, doctor appointments are made.

cancer tw // it doesn’t take long for them to discover the tumor, though the official diagnosis of malignant ependymoma comes a month later.

it’s grade ii but slow-moving, small enough to not be as much of a threat as worried, but big enough where removal is necessary. philomena earns a scar and brings it in for show-and-tell. for two months afterwards, philly’s at radiotherapy monday through friday.

they’re lucky - philomena’s considered cancer-free by the next year. she’s babied at first - handled delicately, as if she could break if touched - but with five other children … it doesn’t last for too long. end of cancer tw //

and life continues as normal.

her personality doesn’t shift much over the next few years - she’s awfully independent for a kid, and awfully quiet - when she speaks it’s about faeries and bigfoot, about how the sky is so blue and if you listen quietly, you can hear the leaves whisper their secrets to each other. this is not odd.

she’s close to all her siblings, but she idolizes her older sister - elektra. elektra’s six years older and dyes her hair whatever colors she wants. elektra bought a knife off a seedy guy downtown. elektra threw away all of her heels and renounced god. elektra is god. her music is loud but it’s not heavy - it’s florence and the machine.

they’re opposites - elektra’s boisterous and feels loudly, philomena’s softer and feels…less. when elektra sneaks out, philomena keeps watch. they are a duo.

philomena is smart - but she’s fifteen and hates school. hates sitting inside all day. hates the same routine - day after day - it’s all the same. her parents’ routine is the same, philly feels contained and she wants to live.

elektra’s twenty-one and just bought a brand new spanking (used but not falling apart) 19-something volkswagen … van - using her entire savings account. she says she’s tired of routine, she’s leaving the next day.

naturally, philomena stows away in the back and isn’t discovered until they’re two states away and she’s got to pee. elektra nearly crashes the van in shock.

it’s an argument - philomena vs. elektra, then them vs. their parents, then their parents vs. the school, the state - it’s an ordeal. philomena switches to an online program in the end.

it hurts christopher and imogen - lysander’s not having any of their nonsense, juno’s betrayed and alone - the twins are twins. in the end, it’s alright. the carmichael family is a happy family.

philomena and elektra take their time - it’s not a road trip, it’s their new life, permanently on the road. they stop and explore often - they do odd jobs in whatever town they settle in. they dine-n-dash, they shoplift. they survive in their own way.

during particularly desperate times, they two resorted to identity theft & credit fraud - getting away with it only by ditching the cards once they’ve made it out of state.

she drops out of high school officially when she’s seventeen - they have to drive all the way back to california to deal with the wrath of their parents and to deal with paperwork, but it’s done. philomena doesn’t know what path she wants in life - but it’s not that.

depersonalization / derealization tw // it’s during this time that the episodes occur - philomena’s outside her body, philomena’s wrapped in cotton, her memories are not her own. she’s looking in the mirror and she doesn’t recognize herself. they take shelter in a city for six months, long enough for her brand spankin’ new therapist to figure out what’s wrong with her. she’s diagnosed with depersonalization / derealization disorder - they think it’s stress. philomena doesn’t get stressed. they think it’s trauma. she laughs - she never laughs. depersonalization / derealization end of tw //

death, decay. maggots tw // there is trauma though, deep-rooted but somewhere inside - you just have to look for it.

you. just. have. to. look. for. it. look for it. look for it. look for it look for it look -

you were ten and she was thirteen, an off-trail hike in familiar woods in a familiar town, safe and familiar. it was your idea, to stray from the carved out paths, down creeks and up hills and round, and round again. you’re the one who spotted the scarf first, sticking up from the dirt and dancing in the wind like the beginning of reincarnation. it was not reincarnation, it was discovery. it was ruin. with curiosity drawn, you skidded down - with compliance, followed juno, followed your sister - clumsy in her steps and tumbling down quicker than you. you saw the corpse, but juno felt it. decaying flesh and maggot. end of death, decay, maggots tw //

and she left juno, just like that - just five years later, when juno had finally gone to the end of her wits. philly up and left. abandoned her.

philomena and elektra leave the city after that therapy session. they do not return. she’s always been good at hiding her secrets.

after ending up with warrants from their arrest in florida (after running from the law in texas), philly and elektra have wound up at irving <3 partially hiding from the law and partially bcos their trusty van’s broken down and they haven’t got the money to fix her up yet.

personality & facts.

she’s quiet but she’s confident - her voice sounds like rustling leaves, if leaves smoked a pack of cigarettes a day.

often underestimated - philly’s petite and looks like she’d fall over if a plastic bag blew too close to her. she’s independent - for the most part. elektra is the only person philly takes orders from.

has always been considered odd - weird, strange. still talks about the trees as if they’re listening, as if they’re old friends. she’s vague and doesn’t elaborate on the things she says.

believes in pretty much any superstition you throw her way. luck is very important to her. if you ask her if the earth is flat, she’ll say probably. believes strongly in bigfoot and the lochness monster. has personally seen aliens, and loves ghosts almost more than herself.

she can be amusing - whether you ‘get’ her or not, her outlook is often bright - she talks about the negatives the same way she talks about the positives. can be seen as naive or gullible, but she’s plenty smart. even if half of her education has come directly from google.

philly doesn’t laugh. a smile, yes - often, in fact - not always reaching her ears, or bearing teeth - but these are not indicators of her happiness. philly is consistently content. she thinks many things are funny - she still will not laugh.

her voice is often monotonous - she doesn’t sound dreary, she sounds far-away. her voice carries. her emotions are often unknown to others.

is apathetic in most situations. she’s hard to bother - she’s incredibly patient and enjoys the company of most - tolerates them at the very least. it’s hard for her to express her emotions, because she feels them so little that it’s very nearly not worth it. her affection is not verbal - it’s small touches and gestures of kindness, love in her own way.

is a fan of knock-knock jokes and bad puns. she won’t crack a smile while telling you them, nor does she expect you to laugh. she just enjoys them.

she owns a motorola razr covered in puffy stickers - hasn’t ever had a smartphone. she’s a fan of emoticons. her favorite is :o)

has a lot of bruises and scratches and scars - she’s often getting herself into pickles. there are always, at the very minimum, three bandaids on each hand.

she has insomnia, so she’s awake often. is often seen wandering town - even when she shouldn’t be, even when it might be dangerous. her intuition is delayed. when she does sleep - her dreams are vivid and fantastical.

keeps a box of memories - sentimental bits and pieces she’s picked up over the last few years. there are a lot of buttons and postcards, but any teeny tiny object will do.

her style changes every week - most, if not all, of her clothes are thrifted. one week she’s baby spice and the next she’s lydia deetz. she combines pieces from different styles often - she looks like a barbie clothed by a child. she feels most comfortable like this.

will either patch-up the clothes that get too worn or reuse them in some way. sometimes donates the clothes she gets tired off - isn’t minimalistic, but she’s learned to keep only a small amount of possessions.

the only consistency is her lucky ribbon - it’s pastel yellow and silky and as thin as a shoelace. she ties it onto her outfit of the day, everyday. if she loses it, she’s lost. elektra has a matching ribbon.

has no problem with minor theft - she only takes bare minimum, puts herself and elektra first and that’s how it’s always been.

currently living in florence, their van, with her sister elektra <3 currently residing in lilac ridge.

they used to live in motels on the occasion, the cheapest room, and more often than not they’d both go home with strangers for a comfier bed and a hotter shower.

it was a common occurrence - she didn’t sleep with them - but somehow, she weaseled her way into their homes anyway. has come out mostly unscathed, on most occasions. this has been a practice ever since they’ve been on the road.

really, truly - has not slept with anybody, had her first kiss at thirteen with a frog. this doesn’t bother her. (smirks at leo)

will consume anything you put in front of her - isn’t picky.

listens to whatever they’ve picked up along the way but she likes instrumentals the best. her second favorite genre is 1990′s and 2000′s top hits. they’re nostalgic for her. third favorites? florence, of course. fleetwood mac. the bird and the bee.

loves storms - will go out in the rain and will risk her life for it.

owns a pair of roller-skates and is often skating rather than walking. unless she’s on grass - then she’s walking barefoot.

has many hobbies, and gets bored of them often. her favorite hobby is welding. she’s not certified.

also, juggling.

also, accordion.

the kind of girl who’ll do any job you give her. odd jobs are her favorite jobs. babysitting is her least favorite - but she does it anyway. has lost children before. have they ever been found? not by philly.

dyes her hair blonde often and cuts her own hair - bangs included - finds it cathartic, likes the itchiness of bleach.

everything she does is often in pursuit of feeling free, alive, and meaningful.

( like her frequent visits to the woods, late at night when the moon is high and full. it’s freeing to dance around a fire, stark naked in the cold. builds immunity )

comes and goes wherever she pleases, nothing & nobody can stop her (besides elektra).

has a certain knack for getting animals to like her. has too many ‘pet’ rats that reside with her, alongside a baby raccoon & a few crow pals. has a new animal companion everyday, but she doesn’t contain them or force them to stay.

wanted plots.

speaking through my third eye ... ;; philly is new in town n shes very strange. constantly lives in a state in which she does not exist (at least on the same plane). this is her harassing the locals. this is her slipping thru their fingertips as they attempt 2 understand her. they get close smtms bt philly jst. whisks herself away.

hollows of our eyelids ... ;; perhaps there is smbdy jst as strange as philly. i’m out here calling fr all the weirdos. lets be friends. lets hv philly n co go on adventures n discover horrible sites n uncover ancient secrets tht lie deep below irving. mayb nt tht. bt im jst saying. this is fr the dreamers. da weirdos. the jugheads. LHKDSHFSADLKGFHLSKADG fr those who also feel as if they r not real.

bills n aches n blues... ;; ya this is my call fr all negative plots. bills (catching philly be a thief and a fraud), aches (mayb heartache? unrecruited feelings or w/e theyre called?), n blues (ooooh so sad... so sad ... angst ...) obviously i am a genius. i wldnt say tht philly is here 2 make enemies bc philly doesnt care much abt ppl bt perhaps tht cld b an issue. tht she doesnt care much abt others. mayb ur muse is jst like. cn u pls care. n philly is like. i am incapable. sry. sucks.

n also ,, ;; like. anything i’ll. take anything. philly is weird lets come up w surreal plots tht verge on the edge of like. nt being correct fr this verse. suddenly theres vampires? or so they think ... smirks. anyways. shes been 2 jail n been in the circus n dances naked in the woods n hoards animals n treasures. we hv a lot to work with here obv.

#irvingintro #cancer tw #death tw #decay tw #maggots tw #dissociation tw #depersonalization tw #derealization tw #trauma tw #:D

[smalltragedy]

#irvinghonesty #hi :P