Relive a bad memory.

OOC: re: weird style? I wanted to do something different, going for disturbing, for this. Tried, anyway. It's italics abuse. Brooke hates me for it.  I miss everyone. <3]

Some nights, she can't sleep.  Images float in and out of her head, unwanted, unbridled.

( cut for angst of the nightmare-y kind. )

TEN things you do when you're flirting

1. Hair flip. It never fails. Okay, there was that one time...but he was an innocent virgin so he hadn't even like, discovered sex yet.  I got him eventually!
2. The "up and down" look.  You know.  That look when you get up close to him that basically says "I want you, and I think you want me."
3. Husky whisper. ( Read more... )

On the road.

Things happen.  You move on.

In Brooke's case, things had happened.  Many things had happened.  She was moving on.  The windows were rolled, music was blasting, and the wind tossed her hair back behind her as she cruised along some open road.  She had bypassed every pot hole, had some engine trouble a while back, managed to get it ( Read more... )

Colour

The first thing to catch the eye.

Not the cut of the neckline, nor the bubbled hem or laced bodice.  But the swirls of reds, golds, greens, the dark and light contrast, the balanced hues, the solids, the pastels, the impenetrable walls of color that make a piece of fabric what it is.  These are the reflections that sparkle in her eyes, compel ( Read more... )

Take care of someone who is sick or injured.

[Takes place while Brooke is back in Tree Hill on her sabbatical, staying with Haley and Nathan.  Jamie is bound to no particular muse.  Rachel (
( Read more... )

You need to see a therapist.  Why?

Seriously?  I'm still seeing a therapist.  Not for crazy stuff, or anything.  I'm not talking to walls or thinking of killing cats or something.  I am thinking of coaxing my adorable and clearly tasteful godson to destroy one of Haley's ugly lamps.  Does that count?  (Um, just kidding, Hales?)

Let's see.

My father ( Read more... )

Her designs for Baby Brooke and the spring line were gone.  Her laptop was gone.  The money from the cash register was gone.

And here she was, standing in a store that looked like it had been turned upside down and shaken, and she couldn't remember the last time she felt so numb.

( One Million Billionth of a Millisecond )

A Childhood Memory.

To the outside eye, she was but a tiny thing, lost in a bushel of red.  To the bright, wide eyes of ten year-old Brooke Davis, she was a beautiful goddess in a flowing red dress, a smoldering temptress, a waiting princess.  Her mother's lipstick, fire-engine red, was dabbed clumsily on her lips.  Even more exciting, her mother ( Read more... )

Anxiety

She was feeling more discouraged by the second.  Every lawyer she spoke to, almost everyone she explained the situation to gave her this look.  A look that said: I'm going to pretend you should be optimistic, but it's bullshit, honey.  You're a lost cause.

Clothes Over Bros was hers.  It was her company, and the only reason she went into ( Read more... )

TEN quirky and/or interesting facts about you

1. My nickname in summer camp was Mouth.  Because I slept with my mouth open, gutterballs.
2. On the night I was crowned Prom Queen, I had "WHORE" sprayed on my dress in paint that only showed in the black light, I had a knife to my throat, and I had saved Peyton from being raped and probably killed.  ( Read more... )