#ofsylvias

[ofcarmichaels]

✉️

send  ✉️ for an unsent text message

[  IMESSAGE  ]  :  you know it doesn’t have to be a crime  . [  IMESSAGE  ]  :   i like that you’re unapologetically yourself .

[mcveriicks]

😱 🍺 📸 🙊

send  😱 for a scared text message

maverick: sylvia please come one of the girls i hooked up with isn’t giving me flirty eyes anymore they’re CRAZY eyes

maverick: please come rescue me

maverick: even if you just yell at me like you usually do

send  🍺 for a drunk text/voicemail

maverick: slyv 

maverick: why’d u encogurgae me to have more beer

maverick: im gonfa regrwt this tmrw arent i

send  📸 for your muses contact picture

send  🙊 for an old text message my muse sent

maverick: someone just asked me for your number

maverick: told him he would dodge a bullet without it :/

maverick: woops

[waldbins]

📞🌙📸💜

📞 — a voicemail my muse left yours.

“yo sylv. hello? pick up.” a frustrated sigh is audible from his end of the line. “dude, where are the hell are you? i’ve called you like three times in the past ten minutes and i saw you tweet something about minnie — which, by the way, was kind of rude and makes you look bad… but we’ll have a chat about that later — like thirty seconds ago. but whatever. if you don’t respond in the next five minutes i’m taking mav to the movies instead.”

🌙 — a late night text message.

[ 1:38 AM ] : hey bub[ 1:40 AM ] : you up?[ 1:47 AM ] : well, you shouldn’t be. go to bed

📸 — your muse’s contact picture.

💜 — a compassionate text message.

[ 7:27 PM ] : hey bub[ 7:27 PM ] : heard you had a bad day today[ 7:29 PM ] : i’m omw over and i brought taco bell even though it gives you the poops[ 7:29 PM ] : i brought gatorade and pedialyte — wasn't sure which one to get so i got both

[goldenhovrr]

@ofsylvias 

tripp didn’t want to be around people, he didn’t agree with the way things were being run.  not only this, but there was word that he did something to the kid who was missing.  whispers spoken behind his back, longer glances every time he walked outside.  it made him want to do something he actually regretted -- instead he held himself back ( for now. ) his feet were hanging off the dock in the water.  he looked off at what should’ve been the other town across the way.  now what was left of it was nothing.  it was gone, trees in its place.  he had just gotten up when he had spotted one of the other two suspects -- sylvia preston. not exactly his favourite person, but he could think of worse company at the moment.  “careful now, if we get caught together, people might assume we killed the kid together.” a joke.  ill timed considering the situation they were in. “so, how did you become a suspect?”

[rosieas]

— starter for @ofsylvias 

          ‘ you know ? ‘ first thing to come out of her mouth when she spotted sylvia a few feet away . it’d been days . each trickled by since the party with olive keeping herself hidden from the vast majority ; alcohol never mixed well with tension , so the party seemed rather a bad idea at the end of the day . ‘ i don’t think you did it ... like honestly ? i’m not being - well , me ? ‘ her honestly seemed backhanded by the end of her little spew , so she simply shrugged her shoulders while she read over their assignments . ‘ but — like ? if you did ... you could talk to me . no judgement here , just a listening ear ! ‘

[thrutheeyesofagirl]

“I love people. Everybody. I love them, I think, as a stamp collector loves his collection. Every story, every incident, every bit of conversation is raw material for me. My love’s not impersonal yet not wholly subjective either. I would like to be everyone, a cripple, a dying man, a whore, and then come back to write about my thoughts, my emotions, as that person. But I am not omniscient. I have to live my life, and it is the only one I’ll ever have. And you cannot regard your own life with objective curiosity all the time.”

— via The Unabridged Journals ofSylvia Plath

I think sometimes my love for other people is too much for my heart to handle. I sense the needs of all different people around me and I so badly want to help all of them, but sometimes the only way you can help someone is by letting them go through their own journey.

[htownhq-blog]

hllo i am here

please follow !!

[mcveriicks]

❝Do not trust her.❞

                      “ who, minnie ? ” he glances over his shoulder, trying to see if sylvia had gestured behind him toward the girl in question. “ look, i know she can be kind of … A LOT sometimes, but her and i go way back. i don’t … i mean. she can be mean, can be petty, but aren’t we all, at some point or another ? ” he pauses, wondering if sylvia’s discomfort has merit –– but no, it couldn’t –– right ? minnie may, his partner-in-crime, the girl who’s like the sister he had never had. he’s shady in his own right sometimes, and passes off any doubt onto that. “ what’s up with you two anyway ? ”

[ofcarmichaels]

&. sylvia  . 

      he’s barely moving through the crowds of people  .  students  ,  if they could even be known as that anymore  .  plagued thoughts are belittling him in his dreams  ,  and yet all he can do is sleep  .  days have gone by  ,  and the curtains pulled to a lone bedroom are scratched with nails of greed  .  he can’t live in a house with full of so many people  ,  the sound of doors opening and closing  ,  loud whispers that keep him from sleeping  .  he hates it  ,  he hates it  ,  he hates it  .  throat is numbed in silence  ,  and he’s doing his best to weave through others  .  a bag is hoisted over his shoulder  ,  it’s full of clothes that had piled up over the days  .  with such limited space  ,  he couldn’t bring himself to venture outside until now  ,  when the sun was beginning to set and twilight was casting a purple shadow through the town  . the door opens with a chime  ,  and he’s expected her to have gone home -----  rumors he didn’t care to acknowledged silvered with her name  .  it was bullshit  -- everything  .  all of it  .  none of this mattered  ,  not really  .  “oh  .”  lips pursed  ,  and he casts his gaze elsewhere  .  “i thought you’d be ----” not here  . he had nothing to say  ,  no words of comfort  ,  he wasn’t good at this  . but sylvia  ,  despite foul and mean  ,  and full of hatred for him  ,  was no killer  . @ofsylvias

[mcveriicks]

CLOSED STARTER FOR @ofsylvias​ !

                 everything was DIFFERENT. seeing his classmates behind the counter at the cafeteria was different. not worrying about school all the time was different. moving into a completely different house with strangers was different. but maverick obliged, reluctantly, taking his sweet, SWEET time to unpack his belongings. after all, with no end or solution to this enormous problem in sight, he assumed they would be staying a while. might as well make himself at home. toothbrush and toiletries in hand, he opens the door to the bathroom to the sound of sniffles. “ sylvia ? ” she’s sitting in the bathub, knees against her chest, and it’s clear she’s been crying for a while. he drops his things on the counter and kneels next to her, feeling his heart ache ever so slightly. he can’t IMAGINE what she’s going through –– being blamed for someone’s disappearance, when everything else in this world is going to shit. he can try, though –– they seem to understand each other in most other aspects of this cruel, CRUEL world. he doesn’t ask are you okay? doesn’t ask what’s wrong? –– he knows the answers to those questions already. “ do you … um … do you want to talk about it ? ” eyes are concerned and vulnerable, a rare sheen for brown hues that are often mischievous in nature.

[waldbins]

in mourning the death and celebrating the life of a peer, a wake seemed necessary. the whole idea of a dinner in itself? fairly disposable and, in lloyd’s opinion, a waste of food and supplies. the cafeteria was rather quiet, save for a few whispers and short titters of those who might’ve known benjamin. and while the others kept their heads down or aimlessly picked at their food, he loiters near the refreshments table, scanning the area for someone to talk to. it isn’t until he spots a familiar face that he takes two cups of coffee and makes a beeline to where they were sitting. he hesitates for a second before decidedly taking a seat in the empty chair in front of them. “hey,” he greets, placing a cup of coffee in front of her. he takes a sip of his own, ultimately thinking of what to say. don’t ask how she’s doing. he let’s out a short sigh. maybe it’d be best if he simply said nothing at all. at the very least, he’d hoped, his presence would be enough. ( @ofsylvias )