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THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT: THE ANTHOLOGY

not a phase

made by me

BYF admin is 28 so if that bothers you dnf; dont use tw/cw and tweets in caps a lot plus i swear a lot so lmk if you need a specific tw/cw and i’ll make sure to tag itDNI basic dnf criteria 18 & under, no fonts, no homophobia , xenaphobia, racism, zionist, etc. (no hate speech will be tolerated on my acc). FREE PALESTINE. BLACK LIVES MATTER. TRANS LIVES MATTER. PRO CHOICE.

NAME sutton/sutt/tons/susu/miss thangAGE twenty-fiveSEXUALITY bisexualPRONOUNS she / herNATIONALITY american

lucien ᥫ᭡
logan ᥫ᭡
steve ᥫ᭡

Sutton Grace Owens is a blonde, stubborn wise-ass with a smile sweet enough to fool you — until that firecracker streak shows. She grew up in a small town where everybody knew everybody’s business, and somehow hers always ended up the center of it. Boots by the door, ribbons in her hair, and just enough attitude to keep things interesting, Sutton learned early how to stand her ground while still saying “yes ma’am.”Her parents split when she was eight, and she got used to living between two worlds — packing a monogrammed duffle for weekends and riding shotgun in her dad’s truck the rest of the time. Her mom remarried quickly, but Sutton never quite fit into that picture. So she stayed close to her dad, Jack Owens — a grease-stained, big-hearted mechanic who loved her louder than anyone else ever had. He called her “Firecracker,” half for her temper, half for the way she could light up a whole room when she laughed.With him, life was simple and good. Long drives down backroads, country music humming through the speakers, late nights in the garage with her perched on the counter, swinging her boots while he worked. He was her safe place, her biggest fan, her best friend.When Sutton was seventeen, that world shattered. Jack died suddenly — a heart attack that came out of nowhere and took everything with it. One minute she was teasing him about his old truck, the next she was standing under harsh hospital lights, feeling like the ground had disappeared beneath her.She moved back in with her mom and stepdad, but it never felt like home. Sutton was too much — too loud, too stubborn, too unwilling to shrink herself to fit their version of perfect. The tension built until one night, after a late shift waitressing, she came home to find her belongings packed neatly on the porch. No warning. No goodbye. Just the hum of the porch light and the realization she was on her own.The next year was a blur of borrowed beds, backseats, and small-town jobs — waitressing, tending bar, doing whatever she had to do to stay afloat. But through it all, she held onto the pieces of herself she refused to lose: her charm, her grit, and that spark her dad always loved.By twenty, Sutton had saved just enough to leave. She packed up her life — a worn suitcase, a few good outfits, and one of her dad’s old flannels she couldn’t bear to let go of — and headed for New York City. The small-town blonde with perfect manners and a wild streak reinvented herself there, turning her love for music and energy into something bigger.Now, Sutton Grace Owens still looks like she belongs on a front porch swing, sweet tea in hand — but there’s a strength behind her smile that tells a different story. She’s still that firecracker: sharp-tongued, quick-witted, fiercely loyal. And underneath it all, she’s still her daddy’s girl, chasing a life he would’ve been proud of, carrying his love with her wherever she goes.