song you sing, poem you are. @goncgirl - Tumblr Blog

— an intro to: isabel "bell" whitman (about ● wanted connections)

#new muse who dis #HDIntro #come to mama little plots #:) <3 #( — about. )

gabbysantos:

open starter @heartsdalestarters

mornings as good as this one deserve an early rise. after enjoying a productive start of the day by going on a run for about an hour, gabby went back home only to get ready as quickly as she could before heading out to walk to her work place. her watch tells her she still has an hour left ( her only meeting in the morning wasn’t until later ) and so, without giving it much thought, gabby heads to legal coffee grounds. after getting her latte and a nice giant cookie to go with it, she leans back on her outside seat, ready to just… enjoy the morning, even if it’s a tad cold. of course, not everyone’s going to go along with that plan of hers. not too far away from where she sits is a couple fighting for the whole street to hear. lovers quarrel? business disagreement? family matters? gabriela didn’t know but she’s loving the show. “guess that’s one way of keeping everyone’s morning interesting,” she comments to any interested ears, “what do you think happened between those two?” her question comes laced with interest but her eyes don’t move from the scene as she takes a piece of the cookie.

.

Coincidence and destiny were concepts that interested Bell infinitely — are they the same thing called by different names? Are they opposites? How much of the world is an accident and how much of it was meant to happen? Coincidence or not, it was still a treat to run into your friends unexpectedly — this friend, especially, when you had the kind of news Bell had that morning.

She sits at the opposite chair just in time to hear Gabby's amused question. A snort finds its way out of her, and it is an undignified little sound — but there are few secrets between them at this point. Few, but never zero. "I'm sure anything we come up with will be largely more interesting than the real thing," she shrugs, stealing a surprised sip of the latte she hates. "To honor feminism, though, I'll wager she just took his gold-digging ass out of her will," Bell coughs, choking on her own smile and the dull taste of milk. The bitterness of the coffee is more of an aftertaste: borderline heresy. "You have absolutely no taste for morning beverages. This is ridiculous, babe."

#( — gabby santos. )#( — gabby santos 001. )#hope this is okay <3

setting: haven apartments, afternoon. closed starter: @nisayar

Bell never particularly cared about being the bearer of bad news — of course she'd rather only have good ones, but her practical mind appreciated the courage of hard truths over white lies. This one particular little omission, however, was something she'd been dreading to come clean about for quite some time. With her brother's release, she'd been unable to find more excuses except for the fact that she was a little chicken.

Naturally, as you do when you are trying to avoid the biggest downfall in recent history — you go for the next best thing. Which meant that, if she was scared about her brother's reaction, it was best to try Nisa first. Their best friend was the less explosive part of the unknowing half, and would likely prove to be an ally in the battles to come. She hated to seem overly-dramatic — who am I kidding? Whitmans loved drama — but it felt like shifting a dynamic that was seemingly perfect. For as long as she could remember, the four of them had been like a second family. If she was completely honest, Bell was afraid that she was gonna be the one that ruined it. "How much do you love me on a scale of one to ten," she asked, a grocery bag carrying a suspicious amount of vegan halal chocolate hidden behind her. "I need to tell you something."

#( — closed starter. )#( — nisa sayar. )#( — nisa sayar 002. )

honesty hour

#( — ask memes. )

setting: the corn maze, end of the night festivities closed starter: @nisayar ( honorable mentions @jakewhitman & @augustortiz )

As tradition mandated, they left the corn maze for last. After the murder mystery madness and the appropriate zombies, it was time to join for one of their favorite Halloween activities. The gameplan was simple — three shots each before entering the maze from different ends. Now, the idea wasn't to find your way out, but to find your way to each other. First to reach the scarecrow got to pick their prize, along with the bragging rights, of course. When the last of them managed to drunken maze their way to the center and join the others — it was time for more booze.

Bell had yet to see the boys — she honestly didn't want to think about what or who they were doing: Jake was her brother and she could live without the imagery. August, on the other hand...he occupied her mind more than she would have liked to admit. The distance between them had grown with her brother's return, and she couldn't say it didn't sting. At least, she thought, the current dynamics gave her proper time to spend with her favorite girl. Oddly enough, she and her best friend found their way to each other before they reached the meeting point. There was movement to her left and she had to confess the general quietness of the maze was making her feel uneasy. Suddenly, a familiar face surfaced. "Nisa! You scared the crap out of me!" It was dark and they were drunk and Bell knew she was keeping secrets. Like most ghoulish things on Halloween, they had a tendency to come out at night.

#( — halloween. )#( — nisa sayar. )#( — nisa sayar 001. )#hope y'all liked my halloween headcanon #( — closed starter. )

hudsweeney:

.

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 meetings away from the creature comforts of his office, where an antique walnut desk cleaved a comfortable distance between the client and himself. hudson all but hung up the phone when isabel whitman ( 28 years old, one-time bestselling novelist and firstborn daughter of the presumed late author of some of his favorite novels; he’d done his due diligence ) started to rattle off the address, but this case — high profile, an actual challenge compared to his usual workload — was one he couldn’t afford to pass up. her chosen venue was a far cry from the hipster-haunted facade of legal grounds or, god forbid, the starbucks that had seized his block over the last few years. the coffee shop was a true blink and you’ll miss it, nondescriptly tucked between a laundromat and a counter service pizza joint that had been shuttered after one too many health code violations. hud must’ve walked past a hundred times without noticing, and it was almost as if it had materialized out of thin air for this meeting alone.

after double-checking the address he’d scrawled on the back of a takeout receipt, he breezes inside on a gust of wind, collar whipping at his chill-flushed neck. instantly, the part of him worried he wouldn’t be able to recognize her is assuaged. aside from the blonde in the corner who looked like she was about to burst out of her skin, there were two other women in the coffee shop, both of whom had 30 years on her and were accompanied by rat-like dogs lapping whipped cream from to-go cups. “ miss whitman ? ” he prods, slipping into the seat across from her. “ hudson sweeney. we spoke on the phone. ” unearthing a yellow legal pad from his bag, he places it on the table, just now noticing the notebook ( diary ? ) propped open in front of her. reaching for it, his features twist in confusion. “ is this for me ? ”

.

His reputation seems to precede the general essence of him. As he inspects his surroundings — carefully, methodically — she inspects him. She's not really sure what she's hoping to find there, and she has no chance to figure it out before he has engulfed half her table with his presence. "Bell," she corrects him. God, how she hates the formality of her surname. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Sweeney. You have an ominous name." Which she likes. He tries to take her notebook, which she doesn't. Her hands cover the aged object before he can reach it and she winces at how off it must seem. "This is for me. I take notes. Religiously. That," she passes him the half-forgotten folder, "is for you."

The folder is an archive of all things misused by the police, along with later records Bell had been able to find around the house the following years. Notes, letters, drafts, receipts. She's torn about parting with it — the product of years of snooping. Bell is not quite aware that it is the physical proof that she is not the unfeeling daughter her guilty mind spent years convincing her that she was. All she remembers is the relief, the quiet, the peace of knowing her mother just left them, like she always wanted to. Did she, though? "It's everything I could get my hands into throughout the years. After the police closed the case, my father's family wanted it done. The scandal is not good for our companies," she explains, her hand holding the only thing her mother ever gave her — a golden locket she never managed to open. "My father is engaged. We need to know what happened. Discreetly. If she's alive...well, that's a different mess."

#( — hudson sweeney 001. )#( — hudson sweeney. )

jakewhitman:

x

Jake wondered what Bell had wished for, and hoped it didn’t have anything to do with him coming home early. He never asked her what she wished for though, not since they were little anyway. He thought for a moment before blowing out his candle and handing the cupcake back to his sister, he’d enjoy that later when they got home. As he pulled away from the jail for what was hopefully the last time, Jake sighed happily. Even with the ankle monitor attached to his leg, he was happy to be away from that place enough that he was ignoring the rest of the negative aspects of his parole. “You think dad came to see me more than twice while I was in there?” He laughed and shook his head at the idea of Henry Whitman stepping foot into that place any more often that was absolutely necessary.

He took the little envelope in his hand as he pulled up to the stoplight and frowned at it, seeing his name in little glittering letters before opening it. “Who’s getting married?” He was confused as he slipped the invitation out of it to see what was going on. “I’m sorry, what the fuck?” The last he had heard, his father was dating some woman who was half his age but he really assumed that was just for sex? “This is a joke right? That’s girls like, barely more than our age.” He tossed the invitation back into her lap and shook his head, heading downtown towards Bell’s apartment. “It’s like he forgot that he has a wife who may or may not even be dead.” He mumbled that last sentence under his breath as he turned up the music.

.

While the twins had decidedly different experiences when it pertained to their mother, Henry's love for them had been unwavering — as distant as he could be. He was a man of hard work and duty, but the laugh lines around his eyes betrayed the true nature of his soul. "You know he cares. He tried his fucking best to have the charges dropped, that's how he shows it." With Jake imprisoned, there was an influx of Whitmans trying to get their claws onto a bigger portion of their money: power was something that the family knew very well, and they liked it something terrible. "The rest of the family was a nightmare, on NYE uncle Rob told him that if he couldn't manage his own children, he shouldn't be running the company. It's been chaos out here too."

And now, the wedding. While Bell had the time to get familiar with the idea — and its counterpart, Victoria Cabot, it was fair to say the whole thing would be dropped like a bomb on top of Jake and, knowing his temperament, it was best if she let him rage. "As young as she is, she's honestly not that bad. And she's not inheriting much anyway, I've seen dad's new will." Bell changed the radio station and let the atmosphere of old rock surround them. She suddenly felt seventeen again. "That worries me too, you know? I know we have our differences when it comes to Joan, but I can't shake this feeling away. It's unfair to expect dad to remain a bachelor forever and it's been so long...but it got me thinking," she paused, unsure if that was the right time to breach yet another sensitive topic with him. Her plan to take it one thing at a time was going downhill pretty fast, but considering she had already scheduled a meeting with a private investigator, it was best if he knew. "Maybe we should reopen her case. Privately."

#impulsive is their middle name lmao #( — jake whitman. )#( — jake whitman 001. )

jakewhitman:

x

Thirteen months was how long it had been since he’d stepped foot outside the gates of the Grant County Correctional Facility. He’d missed a lot in that year but nothing and no one more than his twin sister Bell. Their lives had been chaotic and messy for over a decade but through everything, she was the one stable thing he could always count on. Too bad Jake didn’t know how to do the same thing for Bell. He spotted her waiting outside the gate for him as the guard led him outside after getting his little plastic bag of belongings back and he couldn’t help but pick up the pace a little.

Once he was outside the gate, Jake broke into a jog as he closed the space between them and swept Bell up into a hug. “Fuck you, by the way.” He laughed at her stupid joke, kissing her cheek and sighing. A year since he last got to hug his sister, how had that happened? He finally let her go and nodded as he followed her back to the car and grinned as he snatched the keys from her. “Oh hell yes.” Jake slipped into the passenger seat and glanced over at her, cupcake in her hands with a little lit candle in it.

“A little late for a happy birthday but I’ll take it since it’s my fault I missed it.”

.

"It's never too late for your birthday wish. I got one, you get one too. That's the rule," she explained, passing the cupcake on. "There's something i've been meaning to tell you. Have you talked to dad lately?" She was desperately hoping she wouldn't have to be the messenger for this one — their father was getting married again. Beyond the fact that their soon-to-be stepmother was still in her thirties and their actual mother was only presumed dead, Bell had enough of her own deeds to cover with her brother. Particularly his best friend, August. She had a feeling it wasn't going to be pretty. Wincing, she rolled her window down and turned the radio on.

The noon show was playing B.B. King while she defined how to best tackle the situation. She decided on the best possible solution, which was, for most, the actual worst. Withdrawing a white envelope from her tote bag, she sighed. The invitation was simple and sophisticated — an understatement of luxury, as the Whitmans preferred. It read their names in golden cursive and Bell waited until they were off the highway and at a red sign to hand it over. "Well, as far as surprises go, at least I'm not the one getting married."

#( — jake whitman. )#( — jake whitman 001. )#such tact

chandlr

they’re my comfort idiots, your honor

goncgirl

if this isn't @jakewhitman at his hearing featuring @goncgirl @nisayar @augustortiz

#a pack of idiots #( — ft. jake whitman. )#( — ft. august ortiz. )#( — ft. nisa sayar. )

jeepers!

isabel whitman as danger-prone daphne blake — halloween, 2021.

#( — halloween. )#hdhalloween #( — visage. )

owenrockholt:

SATURDAY, October 30th at The Pumpkin Patch.

“I think I have a shot at this,” Owen commented, thumb directing back to the pumpkin carving area he was loitering not too far from. He hadn’t dressed in costume, the only purpose of his attendance was for something different to do with his evening and the possibility of meeting up with friends. And, even if he wasn’t wildly into the festivities, there was something fun in seeing what other dressed as for the holiday. Especially since some really and truly went all out. If anyone asked, Owen had already decided that he’d respond that his costume was as a lumberjack. His flannel shirt and beard should make that a simple and easy fit. “Did you hear anything about what the prize may be? …for the winner.”

@heartsdalestarters

"Hm...not likely." As a halloween enthusiast, Bell was quite familiar with the happenings of Heartsdale's spooky season. It was honestly one of the few town events she particularly enjoyed beyond the folklore of Small Town America. "Do you see Mrs. Byrne over there?" Across the street, a woman in her sixties stood beside her adult son as he carved the biggest pumpkin she could remember seeing. "That's her son, Kirk. He lives for this moment. She'll never let you win." It was well known that Mrs. Byrne was not above sabotaging their competitors, and Bell had learned that the hard way: at twelve, when the lady accidentally fell on her pumpkin. Ichabod was never the same after his close encounter with the woman's butt.

#( — owen rockholt. )#( — owen rockholt 001. )#( — halloween. )

setting: grant county correctional facility, around noon. closed starter: @jakewhitman

On her list of lifetime expectations, picking her twin brother up from actual prison didn't rank high. Well, knowing her brother, it was never the last thing she expected, case in point, but the possibility was hardly considered as more than a passing joke or the afterthought of youthful shenanigans. Yet, there she was: car parked off the road, leather jacket and a restless heart. A red velvet cupcake rested half forgotten on the passenger seat, the colourful candle blown out in the first ten minutes of her wait — if only he had been released a month earlier, they could have celebrated their birthday together. It was a strange thing to exist in a world void of her brother. Life went on, but her own freedom felt incomplete when he was incarcerated. Bell couldn't imagine what it would be like for him — to come back to a world that had taken steps without him, trying to fit into a space where he didn't quite fit anymore.

At least, she thought, he had her. Jake would always fit into her world, as messy as it could be. Bell grimaced as she remembered her fer father's harsh words during their early morning breakfast. With Henry's engagement and the familial pressure Jake was sure to get from the Whitmans, he'd need all the support she could offer. In their family, people didn't go to jail. On top of their mother's disappearance, they already had one scandal too many. And to be quite honest, Isabel wasn't sure they had enough time to solve all of their problems. She certainly had lost enough time waiting. The guards were very clear about the need for punctuality, but it seemed to have been forgotten somewhere in the first thirty minutes.

Finally, she could see some movement near the inner gates, two figures walking towards the passage to the outer exit. Bell smiled. It was him, that complete idiot. Her favourite person in the world. "What's up, Toretto," she yelled out, sure that, if he could have given her the middle finger, he would have. Satisfied that she had been heard, Bell leaned back into the car to light the candle on his cupcake one more time. Even though the last truck that passed by had been at least 20 minutes before, she crossed the road with haste, as ready to tease him as she was to hug him — or promise to make him suffer if he ever attempted something similar again. "What was the name of your last movie again? Furious, but not Fast enough?"

"Come on! We have a shit ton of stuff to do. I thought you might feel like driving" she said, climbing into the passenger seat. "Or is it too soon?"

#( — closed starter. )#oh boy #( — jake whitman. )#( — jake whitman 001. )

hauntedmushroom

HALLOWEEN ASKS🎃

Jack-o-Lantern: Favorite Fall activity?

Slasher: BEST horror film you've seen?

Vampire: WORST horror film you've seen?

Phantom: Do you believe there are intelligent spirits/ghosts that can interact with us in this world?

Monster: If you ever dressed up for Halloween, what was your favorite costume?

Blood: Biggest fear (rational or irrational)?

Coffin: Do you fear death?

Zombie: Do you fear an afterlife, or lack-there-of?

Haunted House: Scariest thing that's ever happened to you?

Trick-or-Treat: How old were you when you stopped going trick-or-treating?

Black Cat: What's an animal that you would love to have as a pet but can't because you shouldn't?

Potion: Do you believe in karma?

Witch: Do you practice witchcraft? If not, have you ever been interested in it?

Skeleton: If you could only listen to 1 genre of music for the rest of your life, what would it be? Would you be able to handle it well?

Broomstick: If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?

Spell: Do you believe in actual magick?

Voodoo Doll: Who do you hate? (and i mean hate)

Bat Cave: Tell us something we don't know about you

Pumpkin Head: If you read, what book are you currently reading? Or what's the last book you read?

Full Moon: What's the most rebellious thing you've done that you're willing to share?

Cauldron: What type of food are you craving right now?

Scarecrow: What's the last thing that legitimately scared you?

Crystal Ball: Any advice you'd give yourself 5 years ago?

#( — ask memes. )

midsommars-deactivated20201109

Stella’s Last Weekend (2018) Directed by Polly Draper

#THE CHAOTIC ENERGY #( — ft. jake whitman. )

setting: a coffee shop downtown, late morning. closed starter: @hudsweeney

To be completely honest, even though she wrote a number of absurd things regularly, Isabel was not exactly sure how you went about setting up a meeting with a private investigator — the whole thing was so extraordinary that it felt like she had fallen into a dream of sorts. Hudson Sweeney had a brooding presence and she felt instantly inspired when they talked over the phone. Maybe there was a story there. And, well, if they were going to do this, she may as well take the opportunity to consult him as she crafted her next main character. She didn't think twice before contacting him — with her father's engagement and her brother's recent release from jail occupying her mind constantly, she couldn't help but think about her mother. She never recovered from the guiltiness of the relief she felt back then: the wound had grown with her for twelve years. It was a cold case, closed, with no new leads for over a decade. And she always let herself believe that her mother had willingly left them. With age, however, came doubt. Would she have just vanished?

And that's how she found herself waiting for her companion on a secluded table of the town's most passed over coffee shop. Her coffee had gone cold and she alternated looking at the yellowing folder in her hands and out the window, waiting for a sign of him. The second thoughts had arrived shortly before him, and Bell wondered it it was all a terrible idea — do I really wanna know? Some things were better left buried. Before she could take off, however, she heard the door swinging open, the growing October wind invading the corner store. "Shit," she thought. At least she had her notebook on her.

#( — closed starter. )#( – hudson sweeney. )#( — hudson sweeney 001. )#hope this is ok <3

text | bell and august

august: they say bad things come in threes yknow

august: around adjacent. im on lunch for another 15

august: ur in luck. i had a last min cancellation

august: i meaannn we do 10% off for friends & family

august: ... are we friends today?

bell: did i ever gave you the impression we weren't?

bell: well

bell: besides the egging episode of 2010?

#( — texts: august. )#( — august ortiz. )#( — august ortiz 001. )#let's thread this tat #;)

setting: furniture store — late morning. closed starter: @jhericoxallan

What the actual fuck was wrong with modern home decor? She'd been staring at the pair of textiles for a solid five minutes and they looked the same. Had she accepted her stepmother's invitation for a joint shopping spree, she'd probably be made aware that moss and seaweed were very distinct tones of green. Alas, she hadn't — which, of course, made it perfectly reasonable to bother the first person she could find. "Excuse me, kind sir, would you please assist me in choosing the correct shade of green? Do you think either of these says I have my shit together?"

#( — jericho allan. )#( — jericho allan 001. )#hope this is ok :)

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song you sing, poem you are.