samcscreams

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SCREAM VI (2023) dir. Matt Bettinelli-Olpin & Tyler Gillett

#so funny how many thoughts and writings I came up with just with these two shots #that’s real cinema for you:)

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Mother-daughter relationship LET'S FUCKING GO

#fic recs #abigail 2024

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transformations

A small post-movie introspection with Abigail.

For the second time, Abigail finds herself transformed.

A body whimpers and writhes beneath her hands, but she finds little joy in the display, mind stuck on the past 24 hours.

She replays it, over and over. Every moment, every detail. It had all been planned out, from each beat to step, a meticulously choreographed performance.

The dance had barely begun when the set began to crumble, and while she would love to rest the blame on her unruly little troupe, she is not her father, and she knows it is her and her alone who must take the fall.

Abigail had miscalculated. Plain and simple.

She thought she knew who she was playing with, she thought she’d had Lambert under her thumb. She’d mistaken a knight for a pawn.

As she feeds, Abigail contemplates these failures. She can admit to them, learn from them. Adapt.

Kristof Lazar, as he’s been calling himself these days, rules through fear and intimidation, a power cultivated from seeds planted in a time so long ago most cannot begin to comprehend its existence.

Abigail doesn’t have that. She’ll never have that.

But tonight, she thinks, tongue lapping at the dying trickle from a now still body, perhaps she has planted a seed of her own.

Joey’s moment of hesitation to leave, to leave her, despite all that had transpired, like a gallant knight waiting for dismissal, injured and scared but oh so ready to stay – it etches itself into her brain, where countless nights and days have flickered by; this one is cemented, another pillar constructed in the ever-expanding home of her psyche.

See you around, Joey.

She’d planted a seed indeed. One she intends to coax into bloom.

Her men are all loyal to her father, but that woman could be hers and hers alone.

The thought is so enticing it leaves her previously settled stomach hungry for more, ravenous for a treat she cannot have.

A part of her regrets not having a taste, not having claimed her for her own. She would relish the closeness, to examine the connection she had felt, to comb through the mind of Ana Lucia Cruz until there was nothing left untouched by her.

But Abigail, for all that she will ever remain a child, young for eternity, she’s had hundreds of years to evolve, and patience is a skill she’s long since mastered.

A careful nurturing will birth a garden; a flower plucked will wilt in the blink of an eye.

Even now, within her she can feel the weak and fading consciousness of a girl so much like her, a mind lost without a body.

Sammy. Jessica.

In this aftermath, Abigail finds herself twinging with regret. She understands her – young and talented, abandoned and ignored. They’re the same in a way, right down to the foreign fondness that spikes with every thought of their companion-in-common.

It is a shame that she had to be the one to get in her way, she too could have been groomed for so much more.

She wonders if it is crueller to stomp out this dying light that cowers in her mind, or to leave it be to live out as far as it can until it meets its true death. She finds herself lost for answers, and entirely unwilling to unmask that weakness to those that may have them.

With a growl, Abigail drops the corpse to the floor, altogether uncomfortable with the spectrum of emotions seeping from her, like she’s some fragile little girl and not the monster stalking the night that people fear.

It’s easy to blame the unfortunate human in her head for the unwelcome intrusion.

It’s time for her to do what she does best. Observe, and stalk, and hunt.

She hopes Joey will keep her word and go to her son, because Abigail will certainly keep hers.

See you around, Joey.

#abigail #abigail 2024 #fic recs

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her<3

instagram: soapteeth 🧼 ko-fi: soapteeth 🧼 twt: soapguts

#I fuck with this hard core

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Joey is bisexual/lesbian, right? #Abigail

Probably gonna have *Spoilers* to answer this so be warned!!

But Omg it’s has been a HOT minute since I’ve posted on here. So first off hi. Second off great question!

I was definitely getting bisexual vibes during the whole Joey/Sammy moment on the stairs. Also the worry in Joeys face after Sammy got bit. Like girl I see you!!

I also got tension vibes when Joey was with Rickles or whatever his name was and that was the only part of the movie I didn’t like. Felt really misplaced but that might have just been me🤷‍♀️

So anyway long answer short, yes definitely bisexual!

*also fun update (sorry anon to use your question for this) but I just have to share with the class. I have now met Melissa twice and she is the angle you think she is🤭

#abigail (2024) #melissa barrera #Joey (Abigail) #ask box #anon talks

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just a little taste, that's all it takes

A small post-movie scene with Abigail and her father.

Abigail watches Joey limp away with rapt concentration.

Despite it being everything she ever wanted, she has no focus for her father beside her. His frustrated words are nothing but background noise to the steady heartbeat she follows through her dollhouse.

It’s been a… time of firsts.

She’s never let anyone live before. Her father’s never come running before. No one has ever made such an impression on her before.

Abigail hasn’t cared quite like this in such a long time.

It’s alarming, how much she doesn’t want the woman to leave. And not because she needs to finish the job, or because she’s weak and her belly rumbles, but because the warmth of her brief hand in hers lingers still.

Her father’s cold fingers and a-tad-too-tight grip just doesn’t compare.

“Look at the mess you’ve made of my home,” the man harps on, as if he really gave a damn about a place he hadn’t stepped foot in for over a century, as he pulls her through the building. “The clean-up will be coming out of your allowance.”

She rolls her eyes. It always does.

“I suppose we’ll have to go find our own dinner now,” he mutters with the indignation of a man who’s never lifted a finger in his life. “Since you decided to let it slip away.”

Abigail can feel his eyes on her. She knows what he wants her to say, that he could find Joey again in an instant – she won’t have gotten far in so short a time, and she’ll be easily scented out by the small taste he had already savoured. But the answer is no. Not a word her father hears very often, not even from her. Not one someone lives to utter.

“She earned her right to live.”

He scoffs in response, but it seems he can understand her as well as she can understand him.

“Fine. Allow your new pet to free-roam, but do be careful dear daughter. They do have an awful habit of wandering off and finding themselves where they don’t belong.”

Abigail can hear the threat in his tone, the she’s your responsibility woven in every word. Hers to control, to keep safe. To put down if it strays too far.

Irritation spikes within her, teeth growing and grinding within her closed mouth.

Despite all she’s done over the years, the messes she’s cleaned, the problems she’s solved – all without his input or help – he still doesn’t trust her.

But that’s not what makes the beast within her want to roar. It’s the implication, that Joey is nothing more than some dog she’s decided to keep for her own amusement.

She’s more than that. Something different. Something special.

But of course, how could she expect a man like her father to ever understand that?

“Not this one.”

Why, you have to speak his language.

“She’s well trained.”

Their eyes meet, Abigail looking up and meeting his searching gaze head-on. She can’t waver, plans beginning to sprout within her mind.

“I do hope so, and no doubt you will fill in any gaps in its education if required.”

“Of course father.”

Of course.

She gazes off into the night and listens, heartbeat long out of range. But she knows she’ll hear it again.

She’ll make sure of it.

#abigail #abigail (2024) #oh this eats!

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And Bleeding, I Gamble with All I have Left (Selfish Aching Memories; Turn Around, Remember it All)

Abigail AU - Prologue: Take Me Away

A girl stares through a window high up in her home.

She’s all alone, for once, building empty, silent, and devoid of life.

It’s so strange. She’s never left alone and free, and certainly not to roam the house all by herself.

Sister had said they were going to play a game.

She’s never really liked her games. They were always designed for her to lose, and when she loses, she’s punished.

But this time, her Sister had cupped her cheek and stroked it oh-so-softly and whispered that this was a reward, that her darling little sister had been so good and that she deserved a treat.

She’s ashamed at the way just the thought leaves her stomach twisting in anticipation, teeth gnashing together, desperate, hungry for it all to begin.

The girl knows her place, her role, in this little game of make-believe. It’s to sit in her Sister’s room, like it’s where she belongs, and wait.

Some strangers are going to come and take her away, and she’s to behave – to not tell them a thing, to keep their family secrets to herself, just like Sister trusts her to do.

She would never betray her Sister’s faith.

Sister says she’s not to make it too easy, that she has to act like she doesn’t want to go, like they’re not going to her new home. She knows it all, but they don’t.

They’re her gift.

But she only has until sunrise to enjoy it.

Frustrated, she growls. The night is well underway, and time is slipping around her. She wonders if this is another part of Sister’s games, to have a present be dangled before her but never reached.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

To her joy, a foreign sound finally reaches her ears, breaking the night. A car. Where it shouldn’t be.

Intruders.

A girl stares through a window high up in her home, adorned with a grin as she looks to the grounds below. Oblivious men scurry like mice into a hole, unaware of what awaits them on the other side.

#BRILLIANT A MUST READ FOR ALL👏🏻👏🏻 #au: abigail #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #carpenter sisters #fic recs

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Bear with me

Power Rangers AU snippet for @samcscreams. No previous knowledge required.

Tara takes a deep breath, pausing before the apartment door to compose herself. She flinches, ribs aching from the movement.

It had been a bad one.

They’d won, but not without a hard-fought struggle.

Without Sam, they were off-balance, fighting with one hand tied behind their back. They could do it without her, but they didn’t want to. They weren’t complete without her.

She hadn’t even tried this time, hiding away, and Tara couldn’t take it anymore. They needed their leader.

She knew, she knew what Sam was going through. The fear, the uncertainty, the guilt. But Tara didn’t let it stop her, and she wasn’t going to let her big sister disappear inside herself and run away.

They had a destiny to face, and they were going to do it together, no matter what Sam thinks.

Breathing out, she opens the door.

“Sam?”

It’s quiet. Too quiet.

The kind that follows the sudden absence of noise, a body holding its breath, frozen in place. Desperate not to be found.

“I know you’re here.”

Tara senses movement, but her sister doesn’t reveal herself. Sighing, she goes on the hunt.

If Sam won’t bring herself to Tara, Tara will bring herself to Sam.

Peering around her sister’s bedroom door, she frowns. It’s empty and immaculate, and for a moment fear grips her around the throat as she flashes back to all those years ago, Sam disappearing from her life in an instant.

But… that had been different, Tara realises with a shaky breath. This is not the same.

Then, there had been nothing left, not a sign it had ever been inhabited at all. Here, despite the unnatural tidiness, signs of life litter the room. A jacket hanging from a chair; a worn childhood relic – a stuffed dog called Tails – tucked in beside a pillow; a wall of photographs with Tara herself as its star.

Turning around, she notices her own door, ajar.

Ah.

There, curled up on Tara’s bed, Sam sits, looking guilty.

A part of her – the part steeping in frustration at the situation, angry and desperate to find release – thinks about asking her just what she feels so guilty about. Avoiding her? Being in Tara’s room? Abandoning her duty and leaving the other Rangers to fend for themselves?

But any relief she might find by asking could only ever be a simple drop in the ocean compared to how much she loves her, so she sits down beside her instead and tries to find her words.

Sam breaks the silence for her.

“I’m sorry.”

Tara looks up to meet her eyes, question on the tip of her tongue.

“I just couldn’t do it.” Sam swallows, licking her lips. “I tried, I really really tried, but I’ve lost it Tara. I failed you, I failed you all and now–” She looks away again, eyes wet and throat full.

“Sam,” Tara whispers, reaching out to rest a hand on her sister’s chest. “You didn’t fail us.”

She’s lost for a moment, she doesn’t know how to get through to her, how to make her understand.

She settles for the truth.

“You didn’t fail us, Sam. We failed you.”

“What? No–”

Tara barrels ahead.

“You were relying on us to back you up, and we didn’t get there in time. You got hurt because we let you down. We should have been there to help you; I should have been there to help you!”

The flame within her begins to catch once again. Unable to sit still, Tara slips from the bed and begins to pace, memory of the all-too-recent event still fresh in her mind.

Sam on the ground, Amber above her. Hands around her throat and legs pinned. She couldn’t move, couldn’t defend herself, not against Amber’s new suit.

She couldn’t take her alone.

She shouldn’t have been alone.

“I know it’s selfish,” Tara declares, “but I need you. We need you. I don’t… I don’t feel safe out there without you.”

It’s hard to admit. So much of her doesn’t want to do this, to beg Sam to put herself in danger just for her. But she can’t do this without her, and Tara… she wants to do this. She’s never felt so sure of herself as she is when she’s out there, defending people, fighting for better. She’s never felt so at peace, but only when Sam stands beside her.

“You’re the only reason any of us can do the things we do; we’re lost without you. We need you back Sam. I need my big sister back, to guide me. You hold us all together.”

Tara spins on her heels, horrified when she hears Sam sob behind her.

She shouldn’t have done this, she shouldn’t have pushed, she shouldn’t–

Sam stands so suddenly it makes Tara flinch, arms wrapping around her and lifting her from the ground.

“You’re what holds us together babygirl, you’re the heart of us all.”

Tara throws her arms around Sam’s shoulders, squeezing tight, and buries her face in her neck. She can feel the warmth of Sam’s Power Coin against her chest, worn – just like Tara’s – like a pendant. Beneath her fingers, soft cotton moulds into the now-familiar sensation of a Power Suit.

“You’re my heart,” Sam declares as warmth flows through her.

She’s clothed in blinding white, where once there would have been green.

For the first time in a long time, with her heart in her hands and absolution offered, Sam feels light, like a blank slate, ready to start again.

She laughs, loud and free, and falls back against the bed, grinning up at her sister now above her.

“I did it,” Sam whispers, almost shy.

“I knew you could,” Tara replies, smiling back. “And it suits you far better than it ever did me.”

#sobbing crying throwing up #this is everything and more omg! #a young child bear is absolutely growling at your feet #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #carpenter sisters #fic recs #power rangers is my SHIT! let’s fucking gooooo

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Sam feels like she’s going to explode as she watches Tara stick out her tongue across the table.

No, really, she’s going to absolutely lose it.

It shouldn’t be allowed. It really shouldn’t.

She finds herself clenching her fists, digging her knuckles into her knees to contain the swelling of emotion within her.

It’s too fucking cute.

Oops- she’s not supposed to use that word… But Mama says it all the time… so it’s probably fine, right?

Tara reminds her of Mrs Jackson’s puppy, down the street. It makes her think of stretching up over her tiptoes to peer over the peeling picket fence, the way her stomach would fill with air as it ran around and around in circles, chasing its own tail until it fell down, until Sam would fall down too, unable to keep her grip on the wood with how hard she’d laugh.

Tara’s a lot like that puppy. Making Sam feel like she’s floating whenever she watches her, and covering her with kisses whenever she comes close. Like she’s their whole world, until they get distracted and begin to leave, only to stop and look back and ask if she’s coming.

Sam isn’t allowed a puppy, but as Tara looks up at her with a toothy – well, there’s some teeth anyway – grin, and proudly displays the picture she’d been drawing – two stick figures holding hands – Sam thinks she’d take her little sister over a silly dog anyway.

#sam carpenter #tara carpenter #scream #so so so so cute🥹

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So Spyglass single handedly destroyed their own franchise by booting their lead actor for protesting genocide and booting the lead creatives of the trilogy without any valid reason.

I'm okay with just letting Scream die at this point. The series doesn't need to continue and it doesn't need my love going forward.

Scream 6 ended the perfect way with Sam leaving Billy's mask behind to be with Tara.

There's some sort of sick irony that the SCREAM films, which all carry a theme of how the film industry is filled with people who are suspect at best or *literal murderers* at worst, is seemingly destined to be at the mercy of the most unscrupulous producers

Neve owes Melissa an apology, Christopher Landon deserves better and Spyglass can fucking die for all I care. I hope Scream 7 flops and I hope Spyglass goes out of business.

Neve especially disappoints me. Melissa supported Neve Campbell when she left after not getting paid what she was owed, but Neve can’t even attempt to support Melissa in the most bare minimum of ways after she got fired and slandered for speaking up against literal genocide. And after this interview it feels like Neve waited for her to be fired just so she can be the star of Scream again. Feels vile.

The whole situation feels like a scab crossing a picket line. Neve feels like a backstabbing scab and it just feels ugly to me.

#scream #melissa barrera

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Sam Carpenter would survive a Saw situation and come out of it silently traumatised. Tara would survive and come out of it a feral beast. She'd immediately kill someone.

#still haven’t seen Saw but I feel like this is accurate #scream #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #saw

[samcscreams]

As requested, a continuation of Fictober 2023 Day 28 - “I may not get another chance to say this.”

Previous.

Sam.

I might not get another chance to say this.

Tara’s voice echoes through Sam’s head as she stares out the car window, scenery passing by in a blur, meaningless and grey. Her ears ring, dial tone on repeat, over and over and over. The noises of the radio, the frantic conversation happening around her, the wind whipping against the car as it speeds down the road – all muffled, unrecognisable, lost as she is in her head. In the memory of that last conversation.

What could be their last conversation.

I forgive you.

How dare she. How dare she.

Sam.

So Tara forgives Sam, but how could Sam ever forgive Tara? For giving up, for thinking that Sam would ever let her go, that she wouldn’t come for her?

Sam.

For thinking that she’d have to die alone, that Sam would let–

“SAM!”

Her head snaps to the side.

“For the love of god, pull it together!”

Kirby sits in the driver’s seat, shoulders tense, jaw clenched, hands white where she’s gripping the steering wheel so tightly.

“We CANNOT afford for you to lose it right now Sam. We need you. Tara needs you.”

The woman chances a look to the side, eyes imploring. Begging. Asking her to stay with us. She’s risking so much, Sam knows. Her job, her future, her freedom. All to help them, to help her. To find revenge in a world where justice has abandoned them.

Sam nods, closing her eyes for a moment. Stay with us Tara.

When she opens them again, she’s ready.

She looks down to her lap, where cold metal rests and runs a finger over the barrel of the gun.

It’s not her choice of weapon. They’re quick… impersonal… easy. Anyone can handle a gun, can kill with a gun. It’s too much, it’s not her. But for Tara, she’d be anyone at all.

“Samantha,” the dolled up little fucker croons, as if he’s not surprised to see her. He is, Sam knows. Oh she knows, from the way he jumped when she kicked the door in, the way he rushed to his feet, knife left unattended on the desk.

The sick little freak had been watching cameras, watching Tara.

Her only regret is she won’t be able to make this last.

“You’re too–”

BANG.

“Late? Yeah, I would have been here sooner, but you forgot to invite me,” Sam sneers to his bleeding corpse, kicking it as she steps over it towards the screen.

She scans it with urgency, watching the figure behind the black and white fuzzy output, trying to find– there, movement. A sign of life.

Sam almost collapses forward from the weight of the sigh of relief she lets out. But she doesn’t have time for that, doesn’t know what state her sister is in. Every second counts now.

By the time Kirby reaches the scene, Sam’s already shot off into the facility, leaving behind only a body and the echo of slamming doors.

She moves to take the freshly vacated place in front of the cameras, eyes darting between the feeds. She spots Tara, then barely a second later, Sam’s there, embracing her.

Kirby lets out a deep breath, lungs replacing fear with relief. She doesn’t know what she’d do – what Sam would do – if anything happened to the kid.

Stepping back, she stares down at the corpse for a moment, before kneeling beside it. Sam has her sister covered, now it’s up to Kirby to cover the rest.

“I’m so fucking mad at you,” Sam snarls through gritted teeth, tears slipping from her eyes as she bundles Tara into her arms.

“You’re not allowed to say that to me, I’m dying,” the girl chokes out, strangled laughter slipping from her lips.

Sam growls – actually growls – at her, frustrated when it only makes her sister laugh harder. “Stop it or you’ll bleed to death!” she demands, rising to her feet holding Tara like she weighs nothing. Like she’s not cradling the entire world to her chest.

“I- I c-can’t,” the girl giggles, a bloody hand with crooked fingers resting against Sam’s chest. The sensation of the heartbeat beneath her skin seems to calm her.

The fall to silence is so sudden that Sam fears the worst, head snapping down, only to find her sister staring up at her with hazy eyes, as if she’s in a trance.

“Is this real?” Tara whispers, hand trying and failing to reach up, to touch skin.

Sam’s throat feels tight, like there’s a hand wrapped around it, squeezing and squeezing until there’s no air left, only pain. She aches to stop, to sit down and comfort Tara in the way she needs right now. But she can’t. There’s no time.

“It’s real love, I’m here, and you’re going to be okay, okay?”

Only silence responds.

“You’re going to be okay.”

#oh this is everything! #scream #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #carpenter sisters #fic recs

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oh and if people criticizing the new scream 7 news bothers you or makes you uncomfortable in any way i think you should REALLY think about WHY that is. why is it that people saying this movie doesn't deserve your support bothers you. why people talking about melissa and why she got fired bothers you. why people talking about palestine makes you uncomfortable. like my dude use your brain for once. please

#THIS! y’all use your brain like for the love of anything #free palestine!!!!!! #boycott spyglass #boycott scream 7

[samcscreams]

one, two, three

Scream past-6 fic - part 3 of this is how the story ends

They say once is an accident. Twice is a coincidence… Three times… well.

Tara stares at the knife, fascinated with the way the night sky reflects in the now tarnished blade, blood glittering before her.

It’s oddly captivating.

Holding it up to the moonlight, she finds herself enchanted by the blood slipping further and further down, until the still-warm droplets kiss her skin. It feels like a hug from her sister, safe and burning and leaves her craving for more.

Death shouldn’t be so pretty, she thinks, glancing over to the lifeless body sprawled over a park bench.

It lies like a work of art. But not quite perfect. Tara finds herself wondering how she can make it perfect, she wants it to be perfect. Perfect for–

And just like that, her heart begins to show itself, thumping away in her chest. The calm detachment that had led her here to this moment starts to fade, horror creeping in in its place.

She wonders how she could describe the experience. Coming back to herself? Like watching someone else controlling her body? Is it like she’s two different people all at once?

None of them feel right, none of it describes what it’s like to slip a knife into someone’s skin without a second thought, to then choose to do it again, and again, and again. To feel satisfaction at the damage you’re inflicting, to know what you’re doing is wrong. To want to stop, but being unable to, just needing to… just needing a little more. Just once more.

To slip.

She can feel it inside her.

Something hungry.

It gnaws away. It’s tasted this treat and now it wants more, needs more.

Tara closes her eyes and tries to breathe deep, to push down the vomit rising in her throat.

She feels guilty, oh so guilty. The knowledge that some poor soul will have to stumble across this horror scene – some jogger in the early hours of the morning; a commuter on the way to work; a student taking a shortcut – someone will have to find something straight from their nightmares, and it will all be her fault.

She wouldn’t wish this trauma upon anyone.

Tara’s always been selfish, from the day she was born. She knew because her mother always said so. And she is. So so selfish.

Because she just walks away.

Tara wonders what Sam would say if she walked in right now, as she tries to scrub blood-stained hands clean in the kitchen sink.

There’s a moment when she contemplates pouring bleach over her skin, for fear that the dish soap won’t help. But just like her fear of Sam coming home, of sirens edging closer, it’s unwarranted.

Sam’s still out, the body hasn’t been discovered yet, and the Dawn washes away her sins.

She’s been counting the days.

One.

Two.

Three.

Waiting, always waiting, for that knock on the door. Waiting to be carted away, locked up, separated from her sister again – the worst sentence she could imagine.

The hours stretch on endlessly, with nothing to do but pace and spin the memory around in her mind, over and over until it’s painted behind her eyelids, tattooed onto her skin like her scars.

The sensation hasn’t left her. The small knife in her hand, the blood between her fingers, the burn in her chest as she tried to lift the body. Even the smell, it follows her everywhere. Garbage and metal and death.

Tara thinks she might be going a little insane. She must be insane.

It hasn’t gone unnoticed.

Sam is always so careful to make sure Tara knows she isn’t unnoticed.

It worries her, she knows.

That’s the worst part of all. Knowing she’s worrying her sister, knowing she can’t stop it, can’t even pretend to herself that she’s fine – let alone anyone else.

And she can’t even tell her why.

Oh she wants to, she longs to. She has to bite her tongue every time Sam looks at her, inquisitive eyes asking silent questions she can’t bring herself to answer, the way Sam can’t bring herself to ask.

They exist on this see-saw, precariously balanced. The slightest nudge will leave one of them falling. She can’t take the risk, can’t rock the boat.

Sam did her term, choking back the truth for the sake of her sister. Now it’s Tara’s turn.

She can be strong, she can. She has to be.

She can’t do this anymore.

She really can’t.

If Sam knocks on the bathroom door just one more time and asks if she’s okay, Tara knows she’ll finally give in, that her secrets will all spill out if Sam opens that door.

But she doesn’t.

She lets Tara hide, let’s her process the therapy session by herself. Sam lets her go.

Half of her cries out in relief, the other cries for her to come back. Tara doesn’t know what she wants anymore, what she needs. She needs– she wants… she can’t have it. Not anymore. No more.

6 weeks, 5 hospital trips, 4 therapy sessions, 3 bodies.

Two ghosts haunting her.

One fucked up nightmare of a life.

She loses herself in the mirror, its reflection a park not a bathroom. Her face blurs until it’s unrecognisable. She doesn’t know where she is, who she is.

She didn’t know who the drunk lying on bench was, not until this morning, his name plastered across the local news. She didn’t know how hard it would hit her. Didn’t know how to explain away how it affected her, not to Sam, not to her therapist. Not to herself.

The other two had been… they were… accidents. She hadn’t meant it, not like this time. This time… she’d wanted him to be found. She couldn’t keep it hidden anymore, she’d wanted what she’d done to be recognised, acknowledged.

She had to know it was real.

It’s so hard to know what’s real these days.

Like the faces she spots in the crowd, from the corner of her eyes. The whispers at night, even wrapped up in Sam’s arms.

“You’re not real,” she’ll whisper to herself when she’s alone.

“Aren’t I?” the phantom following her replies.

#LETS GOOOOO this is fabulous!! #scream #tara carpenter #fic rec

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decided to try something a little new. lawyer sam x defendant tara, anyone?

how to get away with murder x scream

#I will never tire of your brilliance #scream #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #carpenter sisters #fic recs

[samcscreams]

Blood is thick, these Ghosts are thicker

The silence in the room is deafening, yet Tara wishes it was quieter still.

Every beat of her heart is a reminder of the blood pumping through her veins, every exhale a sign she’s still alive, somehow, despite it all.

Despite the agony that courses through every part of her, the black hole in her stomach, ripping her apart, tearing her insides and carving its way out atom by atom, she’s still alive.

Sitting here, right where Sam left her.

She left.

She left her.

She’d promised.

PROMISED!

But what good is a promise from a Carpenter? …Or a Loomis.

Bloodlines made up of broken hearts and vows and betrayal.

She should have known better.

Tara thought she knew better.

But she’s still just that foolish girl, perpetually 8 years old and never able to grow up. Broken. Life lying in pieces before her.

She wonders why she even tried, ever hoped, could have believed there was a future there.

And this time she can’t even blame Sam. No. This time, it’s her fault. It has to be her fault. How can anyone be to blame this time but Tara herself?

Once is an event.

Twice is a tragedy.

Thrice is a pattern, and Tara sits right at the centre of it, threads reaching out and away, always away, fraying the further they go, snapping as she tries to pull them back.

Sam’s gone and it’s all Tara’s fault.

She should have been better, better than this, better than this pathetic fragile thing falling apart. She should have known not to pull.

It’s something you learn young, that when you begin to pull, everything will start to unravel. Holes become gaping wounds, ruin finding you before you ever reach the end.

She wonders if anyone ever taught her, or if she was too busy raising herself to learn how to be something someone stays for.

The loneliness is suffocating.

Its fingers grip tight around her throat, pushing, pushing. A familiar burn, an old friend. It almost makes her smile.

That would be nice, she thinks. To see her old friends again, to surrender to this pain and just let go.

Tara’s not alone, not alone alone.

There are others. Somewhere. People who care.

But they’re not here, not right now, and it’s so hard to think of them, here in the darkness, where every part of her bleeds.

They tried though. Oh they tried, just like Tara tried.

Her phone sits silently beside her.

It had long since fallen silent, light dimming, extinguished, just like Tara herself. It ran out of the will to live a while ago, and now they both sit in purgatory, waiting for whatever comes next.

She wonders why Sam ever saved her, just to leave her here to die herself.

Maybe she’s the person she always feared she’d be after all.

#god damn that last line is wild #fucking love it! #scream #tara carpenter #sam carpenter #carpenter sisters #fic recs

[samcscreams]

And just like that our sweet girls return

#jenna ortega #melissa barrera #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #carpenter sisters #scream