#everstride; brooke

[apexhe]

@everstride​ screamed: “ ❝ this is my worst nightmare. ❞ from brooke “

         her  name  tumbles  from  his  lips  once  desperate,   twice  panicked,   pulse  a  quickened  threat  thrumming  within  tension - ridden  muscles  at  the  offbeat  quietude  he  receives  in  response.   their  separation  had  been  unintended.   one  minute  there,   the  next  gone   ——   a  flurry  of  white  masks  stark  against  inky  black  shadows  and  too  much  adrenaline  overwhelming  his  senses  and  oh  god,   oh  god,   he  hadn’t  meant  to  lose  track  of  her,   hadn’t  meant  to  take  his  eyes  off  of  her.   limbs  clamber  through  the  panic  which  threatens  to  overwhelm,   careless  in  the  breadcrumb  noises  leading  anyone  within  earshot  directly  to  him.   o,   let  the  killer  come  for  him  now!   boy  determined   /   boy  frightened,   brandishing  a  blade  so  similar  to  the  one  he  gifted  her  with.   he’s  prepared  now,   shouldering  a  corner  and   ——

         ——   and  tentative  gaze  befalls  her  form  just  as  she  turns  to  face  him.   heady  relief  floods,   so  immense  that  it  has  him  overlooking  the  mass  crumpled  at  her  feet  for  the  moment.   just  a  moment,   honeyed  and  grateful,   until  it  is  tainted  by  the  scarlet  painting  her  hands,   the  knife  a  gunshot  as  it  collides  with  the  floor,   the  body,   the  dissociated  whisper:   he  came  out  of  nowhere   [ . . . ]   this  is  my  worst  nightmare.   there  is  no  hesitation.   he’s  already  in  the  process  of  pocketing  his  protection  and  folding  her  into  his  chest,   chin  shelved  on  the  crown  of  her  head.   death  is  different  up  close.   it’s  nothing  like  the  rumors,   the  gossip,   the  mere  glimpses  of  relived  horrors.   there  is  no  dissociation  to  cling  to,   not  with  seth  branson  mirroring  own  unblinking  gaze,   motionless  in  a  sea  of  red.   there’s  so  much  blood.   why  is  there  so  much  blood?

         ❛   it’s  okay.   you’re  alright.   ❜   it’s  murmured  thoughtlessly,   a  sweet  nothing  ill - placed  and  ineffective.   he  pulls  away  from  her,   grip  finding  her  upper  arms,   shoulders  stooped  and  gaze  seeking.   ❛   you’re  alright,   okay?   ❜   watch  now!   see  psyche  race  within  umber  hues,   bear  witness  to  frantic  thought  process.   they  could  claim  self  defense,   but  branson  doesn’t  have  a  weapon.   they  could  leave,   but  their  fingerprints  are  everywhere   ——   and,   more  importantly,   the  killer’s  aren’t.   the  killer.   the  killer!   if  he  was  coming  after  them,   he  could  have  been  after  branson,   too.   no,   the  killer  was  after  branson;   he  watched  it  happen,   watched  the  black  cloak  sink  the  dagger  and  vanish.   digits  are  swift  in  snatching  the  weapon  she  dropped  before  he  says  another  word,   intentional  in  their  incrimination  of  himself  to  ensure  his  plan  is  followed.   ❛   do  you  have  your  phone?   i  dropped  mine,   and  we  gotta   ——   we  gotta  call  the  cops.   tell  them  what  that  psycho  just  did   [ . . . ]   you  catch  my  drift?   ❜  

scream sentence starters  | accepting!

[movedirreparabiles]

     she  smiled  at  him,  her  voice  quiet  as  she  walks  closer  to  him.  ❝  did  you  ever  think  we’d  end  up  here,  nate?  ❞  brooke  asks,  looking  around  the  party  with  all  their  friends.  ❝  you  with  haley?  me  with  luke?  all  of  us  friends?  it’s  just...  kinda  surreal.  ❞

@everstride​​  for  nathan  scott  (  sc  )

[atthesuburbia]

@everstride​    ,            “  you’re my friend. the only friend i have here.  ”

lakewood held nothing but pain.      a kaleidoscope of memories, your dead boyfriend sneaking out the window in the dead of night, your friends blood staining the carpet beneath your feet.    [you can’t help but blame yourself]    the knife never needed to be in the palm of your hand but in your bloodline. the reclaimation of own name was still too little, friends sacrificed in your name by someone you had never even met.     became a greenhouse filled with ghosts, the flowers that once bloomed inside your chest had become weeds twisted around ribs. you think: surely that’s not true.      THEN YOU REMEMBER.   

                  “  ... i’m sorry,    ”            your voice is quiet, it shakes, sorrow is tied around words like a ribbon with a bow:   the perfect gift. will you ever find the language that would allow you to speak with the things that haunt you most? THE ONLY FRIEND SHE HAS          because the rest are dead.     was that supposed to be the end of her words?      did you cut her off too early?     how many funerals should a girl attend before she turns eighteen? how long before it is your own: haunting yourself wearing all black?             “   my mom          she’s taking me away for the summer. you should come.  ”

[perfectfoil]

@everstride said: ❛  you need to leave . now . you’re not safe here .  ❜ from saren  /   50 𝘿𝙄𝘼𝙇𝙊𝙂𝙐𝙀 𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙈𝙋𝙏𝙎   ,   𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝚃𝚆𝙾 .

"Here where? At your house?" Already Vera is being forcefully though not without gentleness, ushered out of the entrance into which she took all but two steps. "Hang on!" She turns around once outside, casts inquisitive glances over Saren's shoulder but fails to make out anything that might answer the questions tumbling over one another in her mind before the door is closed. "Is that why you called without leaving any messages?" Four missed calls during her commute from Wentworth to her house. The frown between her brows deepens and the weight in her belly grows, heavy and hefty and steeped in something approximating actual, sensible reasons to give credence to the dread which has been growing during the drive. Vera's seen Saren in various states, in the throes of diverse emotions but even when under the visible influence of anger, she has not once succumbed to it in such a manner. It's urgent in a way that brooks no argument and it's frightening in its stripping Vera of understanding and of agency but most of all it looks, sounds, feels nothing like Saren, regardless of her intentions or of her eyes brimming with concern or her touch, firm and delicate and always there, making sure Vera's within reach of a meandering finger. 

"I'm not going anywhere." In her right hand, the bottle of alcohol-free bubbly is a sharp, bitter reminder of what they were supposed to be doing and discussing. "Not before you -" Vera cuts herself, her bout of bravado dwindling quickly now that the rush of adrenaline procured by so abrupt a greeting is receding. No, she is right. "Not before you give me an explanation."

[daerknss]

@everstride​  liked  for  a  one  liner   /   brooke  +  audrey

“    i    can    go    if    you    want,    i    just    figured    you    might    want    some    company...    or    maybe    i    do.   “

[juvequent]

*  @everstride​,         ♰         (brookemaddox).

❛❛         the  killer  is  definitely  some  depressed  loner    because  that  totally  makes  sense,    brooke.      [   AN EYEROLL:    chapped lips part slightly.   ]         if  the  killer  is  trying  to  do  anything,   they’re  just  trying  pull  a  stu  macher.    it’s  probably  some  jock  trying  to  slice  up  lakewood  *⅋  create  woodsboro  2.0.          ❜❜

[movedirreparabiles]

❔

WHO ARE SOME MUSES I'D LIKE TO THROW AT YOURS? for @everstride

alex russell + sierra mercer jean milburn + grey's characters lexi howard + scream characters sabrina danes + anastasia sterben brooke maddox + brooke davis plus all the canon things