francis forever. @tatumheade - Tumblr Blog

I killed someone today.

griimley:

– “WE COULD COOK IT!” SHE SAYS, grinning at the wriggling fish for a moment, “ i mean, it’s big enough. ” but then she looks up and catches the disgusted look on tatum’s face, which makes her laugh, “ or we could just go to jenny’s. this little guy would probably be grateful. ” she sets the trap down and opens it, releasing the largemouth bass back into the creek, giving it a little wave goodbye as if it might be able to see her. “ or did i just COMPLETELY kill your appetite ? didn’t even get a pic for my tinder, ” she jokes.

she nods, nose wrinkling at the sight of the fish, simply flopping around. any fishing trips her dad has gone on has luckily never been with tatum, except for once where she cried when they caught the fish, and janet called her a baby, and that was the end of that. she thinks it’s not really something she’d enjoy anyhow. “jenny’s,” she repeats. “i can do jenny’s. i’d give my left foot for some chili cheese fries right about now.” she smiles a little, mostly because elise is so damn adorable, like a fairy princess in a kid’s story, then pushes herself off the rock she’s on, combat boots landing in the dirt with a resounding thud. “don’t worry, think we can manage rake in all the super likes just on your personality alone. no need to cement it with a fish pic.”

#c: elise #c

ofrachels:

RACHEL’S ARM GO TO FOLD OVER HER CHEST, but she feels the metal of the gun on her arm and jerks a bit, forgetting it was there. it’s not loaded, it’s not loaded, she reminds herself, though she does kneel down and place it on the ground, because it feels sort of like an elephant in the room right now. her arms cross over her chest. “ i mean, you point and click, right ? “ she asks, only half-kidding. the corner of her mouth rises into a slight smile, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “ school work ? “ rachel guesses, and it feels WEIRD talking to tatum like this, just the two of them. as friends. they’ve never not been friends, she supposes, but they’ve never been particularly close either. janet had been the only thing tethering them together, and rachel still hasn’t completely gotten used to having a new invisible string connecting them, with the sleuths.

from tatum’s angle, it just looks like a girl is alone out here with a gun. not exactly the best image to walk in on. but she releases the breath she doesn’t realize she’s even holding when rachel sets it to on the ground, pushing it away. “guess so,” she says, with a shrug. ever since janet, there’s been a void that neither could fill between them. she was the only reason they even spoke, after all. and now that she’s out of the equation, it leaves them skirting around what they actually do and feel. tatum is never one to dump her problems onto someone else, but if it was anybody, it’d probably be elise, definitely not rachel westbrook. but it’s different, now, once more, with the sleuths. a lot of things she’s not quite used to popping up and forcing her to adjust, quickly. and with tatum, she usually just grins and bears it. so she nods, tight lipped smile. “yeah. sure,” she tells her. “it’s just a lot. i needed a minute.” or an hour. or a lifetime. “i know last time,” she begins. “it was scary. but i need you to be careful with that.” she’s referring to the gun. “self defense is different from having blood on your hands.”

#c: rachel #c #guns tw

katharineshepburn-deactivated20

PERSONA

1966, dir. Ingmar Bergman

#musings.

hatlvs:

HE THINKS, FOR A BRIEF SECOND, THAT HE CAN DO THIS. but he cant. it’s evident as he’s looking at tatum that whatever lies unresolved is building a wall between them, and whilst atlas could be actively trying to break it down, he is knowingly doing the opposite. it’s easier that way — and for two people who have known hardship, the easiest way often seems right. he groans slightly as he removes his foot, but silences himself almost immediately. « there. »

she doesn’t remember the last time that she’s spoken to him, just him, without the rest of the group around. he’s surely busy with whatever is going on in his life, just as she’s busy in hers. running a group, working, making sure her father’s head stays above water and the mortgage on their tiny house is paid off. so she hasn’t had time to ruminate on her one and only (failed) relationship. she sits, and when the waitress comes by, orders a basket of fries for the table, and sits some more. neither say anything, but mainly because tatum doesn’t know what to say. “so,” she finally manages. a poor attempt at a conversation starter. “...how are you?”

#c: atlas #c

ofrachels:

“ WELL I WOULD HOPE NOT, “ she huffs out a small laugh, though there’s nothing entirely amusing about it. but with a gun in her hand, rachel feels like a kid caught with their hand in a cookie jar. she tucks it behind her back, in case someone else might join them. “ i was trying to see if i remembered how to use it, “ the brunette shrugs. “ coop said she would teach me, but i wanted to be a little more comfortable holding it first. i didn’t know where else to go. “ she certainly couldn’t walk around with it in the westbrook backyard. “ what are you doing here ? “

she doesn’t remember the last time it was just her and rachel, if it was ever just her and rachel, so it’s a feeling she quickly has to become acquainted with. “and do you?” she asks, maintaining her distance because after all, it is a gun that rachel is holding in her hands. if it was a flower or something, maybe a different story. “remember how to use it, i mean.” she circles around, still keeping space. there’s always space between them, no matter how hard they try. “i just needed a break,” she says, with a shrug. “everything was getting overwhelming.”

#c: rachel #c

griimley:

open starter.

– “HEY, LOOK WHAT I GOT!” ELISE CALLS FROM THE EDGE OF THE CREEK. she and her dad used to set a whole lot of little traps in the water when she was growing up, spending sunday afternoons fishing when he didn’t have work. nowadays, it’s reserved for what feels like special occasions, edwin grimley’s good days which are few and far between. she still sets traps at the edge of the water anyways, though, just for old time’s sake. unless it’s something real big, she usually just lets it go. otherwise: that’s dinner. “ water’s a lot higher this year, ” she notes as the water rushes over her knees, “ means more rain, which is a good sign ! ” especially after the hellish few months they’ve had. “ you hungry ? ”

never really the active one, she leaves that to elise, watching her best friend fiddle with traps as she sat on a nearby rock trying to get horror fancams to load with the service being so shit out here. she doesn’t even realize elise has caught something until she’s squinted at the trap in her hands, seeing the wriggling fish. her nose scrunches up. “are we cooking that?” she deadpans, phone still in hand, despite her attempts going unheeded. “really? is now a bad time to go vegetarian?”

#c: elise #c #this is short #love me anyways

scr33ncaps

I Believe in Unicorns - Leah Meyerhoff (2014)

#musings.#this is her and someone

dog-teeth

haha no bro i promise im okay! *dissolves due to loneliness*

#musings.

hatlvs:

IT’S BECOMING ALMOST EMBARRASSINGLY CLEAR that orion is not going to show up, even despite atlas’ difficult commute to get here, and for what ? a coffee, discussing ‘ something important ’ as if orion ever had anything significant to share with his younger brother. but still, atlas lets his hopes get in the way of reality even when he’s losing patience. he orders another shake, coming to terms with the fact that his own brother has stood him up once again, but at least he doesn’t mind spending time alone at jenny’s, not really. there are worse places in sedona.

a known face comes into atlas’ peripheral vision and he looks up at the other sleuth with half a smile. his broken foot is prepped up on the other seat opposite of him. « if you want me to remove my foot you’re gonna have to physically move it yourself. »

stubborn-- that’s tatum. you can try to deter her from doing anything, but it’s often proven futile. and right now, she’s determined for things not to be weird between her and atlas. even if she’s the reason they’re weird. it’s been years, but they’re still not quite back to normal, yet. instead, a consistently awkward tension lingers when they’re not among the rest of the group. one that’s evident as she makes her way over to his table, her basket of fries traveling with her. she drops it on the table between them without so much as another word. “i’m not going to do that,” she deadpans. “make room.”

#c: atlas #c #this is nothing but

ofrachels:

open starter.

WHEN RACHEL NEEDS A PLACE TO GO AWAY FROM PRYING EYES, it’s the shed she always turns to. lately she’s been frequenting it a lot more, whether any of her friends are around or not. she’s tired of the dozen questions her parents give her every time she comes and goes from her house, as if carolyn is going to break out of jail to finish the job. she’s tired of her new sleep schedule, now that jenny has her opening instead of closing ( though rach won’t admit that she kind of prefers it this way ) . but mostly she’s tired of herself for making her relive what happened over and over again, making her feel utterly DEFENSELESS.

her father hasn’t even noticed that the handgun he keeps in his dresser is missing, and out in the woods behind the shed rachel’s turning it over in her hand, trying to decide whether this makes her feel POWERFUL or stupid. her father had showed her how to shoot it once when she was ten, but all she remembers is the loud noise it made and how much her mother had yelled at him afterwards.

the sound of leaves rustling behind her makes her tense for a moment, before glancing behind her shoulder and giving her friend a small, guilty smile. “ i promise it’s not loaded. “ though she does have the bullets in her pocket, just in case.

she feels bad for missing the important things. she feels like she’s always missing the important things. and decidedly, that’s not something a leader does. miss things. but in her defense, her father’s been getting a little sloppy these past few weeks, and someone’s got to look out for him. and since the obvious preferred choice is no longer around, tatum is the next best thing. she’s taking a break now, her father finally calming down from his general sad disposition, and the first place she goes is somewhere to clear her head. tatum’s only slightly surprised to see rachel there, more so surprised by the gun in her hand. she thinks, maybe, she should turn around and go before she’s caught, but rachel turns around. “i didn’t think you were going to shoot me, anyhow,” she tells her, simply. “what are you doing with that?”

#c: rachel #c #this makes no sense!

pagcantmaterial:

closed starter for: @tatumheade

roxy was leaving her first shift back at jenny’s since getting back in town when she saw tatum across the street from the diner. “oh my gosh!! tatum!! hey!!” she yelled across the way, waving frantically hoping that her friend would notice. she looked both ways before skipping towards her. “hey!” she called out again gleefully, fixing her glasses atop her head when she caught up. “i missed you so much! AND you will never guess i got you from my trip.” she stated with excitement.

she’s listening to her walkman, the cure blasting through her headphones, coming back from her latest drop off, heading over to pick up her next errand. if she wasn’t keeping her head up, she might of missed roxy altogether. but, then again, it’s kind of hard to miss her with all the flailing. tatum knocks her headphones off, letting them rest around her neck. “’sup, rox?” she asks, reaching over to pause robert smith’s voice. “i missed you, too.” brow quirked at her statement, a small smile tugging at her lips. “you know you didn’t have to get me anything at all. i appreciate it, though. what’d you get me?”

#c: roxy #c