| CARRIE MATHISON |

Indie RP blog for Carrie Mathison from Homeland. Mun & Muse 18+.

[angerlensed-deactivated20161123]

CARRIE

He zoned out somewhere between her talking AT him and the garish red lights; Stop and start, stop and start. EPITOME city routine. The engine ROARED each time, he’s still getting a feel for the thing—like an unbroken stallion. Carrie shattered his TRANCE when she makes a move, something he’ll read as SENSUAL by default. He watched her, lost in those ocean sapphire eyes, until some ornery motherfucker in a GAUCHE as hell Dodge HONKS all the way into next year—MOUTHING off in Erik’s rearview mirror and making frantic gestures.

❝I’M FUCKING GOIN’, KEEP YOUR PANTS ON BEFORE I COME AND BURN ‘EM OFF YOUR FUCKIN’ LEGS AND WATCH YOUR DICK SHRIVEL BACK INTO YOUR ASS.❞ He’s shouting this with his head poking out an open window, as if his ill-colored Lamborghini wasn’t OSTENTATIOUS enough.

❝Apologies, I’m sure ya know how it is with these ASSHOLES. Gotta put 'em in line, y'know what I’m sayin?? The night’s still young, dunno what that prick’s gotta rush home to so fast. Guy like that ain’t desperate to fuck his wife I’ll tell ya that for nothing—❞ Now SHE’S pulling the same trick. Half listening; half not. DAMN this broad is eager. He spends the duration of keeping his libido in check by parking in the nearest road shoulder.

❝—Nicholas Brody?❞ He’s thinking with his BRAIN now. ❝Nah, can’t say I do. But it’s funny ya bring that up 'cause my dad, well, long story short he left my ma & myself before I was born. Never met the guy obviously. Probably never will 'cause he changed his name, moved somewhere else, got his new girl pregnant super fast I guess. Dunno how mom heard that but, I think she n’ someone else was sayin’ somethin’ about him changin’ his last name to Brody. So I guess I gotta brother or sister out there somewhere a month or two younger than me. Oooh wait a minute. You weren’t hired by my fuckin’ DAD were ya?!❞

[c-mathison-blog]

She has to take a few minutes to process what the fuck just happened. One moment she’s (sort of) happily in inner turmoil, potentially about to fuck her late lover’s doppelganger in his revolting car - the next she’s accused of being hired by his deadbeat father with the same name has her late lover.

This is a long fucking night.

“ Erik hold up a second, don’t blow up. Relax. I wasn’t hired by anyone. ” Oh my GOD give me a break. She wanted to bite her tongue on this in the hopes of not scaring of her last opportunity of a fun night, but, it’s honesty time.

“ Look, I like you. I haven’t liked anyone for a really long time- ” She’s gonna have to force this out of her throat, reaching down to hold onto her bag incase he decides to kick her out of the car. She wouldn’t blame him, she pulled a dick move tonight.

“ Let me try to explain this to you Nicholas Brody is a man--was a man I used to know. “ Don’t mention the love of your life and the father of your little girl. “ He was killed a year ago. You took me aback when I saw you tonight. I watched you for a while fucking mesmerized because you look IDENTICAL to him you could be him for all I know. And fuck--” Choke back every fucking sob - don’t you dare scare him off now.  Make it easy on him. “ I’m sorry, Erik. You don’t need this. I had this weird, fairytale hope that things might not have been what they seemed a year ago. You recognized me. How? Can there BE another explanation for that? How do you think you know me, Erik? ” She’s in too deep to go back now. All she can do is cling to her belongings, look to the ground, try not to cry and pray the alcohol will soften any blows.

[emmcduvcl]

Nicholas Brody | 10 gifs per episode           •         GRACE

[fuckyeahcarriemathison]

You’re an amazing person, Carrie Mathison. Amazing.

[davosseaworths]

“These star-crossed lovers were never meant to be together. And every time they do get together something really bad happens. Even the power of this love that they have between them and the connection that these two damaged souls have found in each other, is ultimately a curse.”

[mss-mahogany]

Reblog if your muse would risk their life to save a loved one

[angerlensed-deactivated20161123]

CARRIE

She’s off the rails, in perfectly calculating, SUPPRESSED aspects. A loose cannon DISGUISED in collected nuances; COY smirks and brushing thighs, color brimming on her lips and cheekbones. He could FEEL her readiness even when they’re not touching—They RESONATED with each other, albeit only for ONE THING. She doesn’t think he’s LEWD, he doesn’t think she’s PLAIN.

❝Nah, I only say it to the ones I wanna bang. KIDDING. Got ya, right? No, no. I’m bein’ serious here Carrie. There’s something…familiar about you. What is that? Kinda spooky. But I like it.❞ She kept him guessing—SURPRISED. The most fun he’s had in a while. Revving engine; WHETTED appetite for something EROTIC. Erik couldn’t wait to find & FEEL more.

       ❝…I met this guy the other day called Chris, he’s one of those guys who thinks there’s some kinda SHAME in swingin’ both ways, I won’t deny it Carrie, I do. I do it A LOT. I mean,     why the fuck not?! But this guy, COMPLETE DENIAL. Is it so bad?!❞ He’ll laugh for the sake     of IDLE talk. But he’s not joking.

Pulling up to a red light, he looks at her. STUDYING her. ❝You’re crazy. And I mean that in the BEST kinda way. I’m tired of ordinary. Livin’ by the rules, the orthodox. I gotta feelin’ that you try to follow the rules—But you don’t do such a good job am I right? Tell me I’m right.❞

[c-mathison-blog]

He RECOGNIZES her. And it’s almost too good to be true. He’s sleek and flirtatious - tactless, admittedly, but smooth nonetheless. And he has her under his spell. How could she EVER say no to those eyes? It’s been far too long since she’s demanded another’s attention. She tried with co-workers and cuties in coffee shops but none of that could compare to this.

“Oh,” The coquettish smile is back. “You’re talking to the girl who’s checked out MORE chicks in her lifetime than guys. Which for the record is a LOT. I’ve always been a hard worker so my twenties weren’t exactly a time of discovery. I had a girlfriend briefly in college but I couldn’t keep it up - I guess my longest standing relationship has been with...fucking studies. I’m still just as much a student now as I was then. But Erik, there’s no shame in that. Perhaps this Chris is just insecure. DON’T let him get under your skin, you be you and be proud of it. You’re special.” There’s no way she could’ve restrained the yearning from pouring into those last two words.

Processing his words, she winks at him, a hand creeping onto his thigh - barely even suggestive; it’s a soothing amenity. “Read me like an open book. Conventionality bores me. And that goes with relationships too.” ‘Carrie, you always pick the difficult ones.’ Maggie’s silly insult still came back to her as she’s gazing over at Erik...Brody. Whichever one he REALLY is.

“Erik, this...might sound a little weird. But I recognize you too. And, I wanna ask; the name Nicholas Brody - does that ring a bell?” She squeezes his inner thigh; half in nerves and half in a guilty wanton stupor. He’s CAPTIVATING in his clumsy, try-hard charm - yet somehow sensuous, and inviting. He’s pulled down her barriers in less than an hour and she’s sat back at let him. Because she wants this...for the first time since Brody.

[skipmalarkey]

[angerlensed-deactivated20161123]

CARRIE

Okay, THAT happened quicker than anticipated—& Like hell he’s gonna COMPLAIN. It’s sloppy, PASSIONATE, so much so that it has him opening a DUBIOUS eye. He clasped either side of her face in his hands, not caring WHO was watching or about the aftermath. It was him, a BEAUTIFUL woman, and their tongues in the THROES of some bizarre, CARNAL knot. Breathless, Erik TEARS from her burning lips, like exiting a euphoric trance.

❝—Sooo…I take that as a yes?❞       Fuck the beers. He’s got PLENTY of that back at home, liquor cabinet included, all the HARD stuff lined up in rows. Motioning for the door he GRABBED her wrist and escorts Carrie to his very a la mode, very SICKLY PINK Lamborghini; His PRIDE & joy. ❝Ya know what? It’s the craziest thing, I know we just met n’ whatnot and we’re a little BUZZED but I feel like I know ya. Like, a connection or somethin’ you know what I’m sayin’?? Slap me if I’m bein’ a cliche motherfucker but it’s true I swear it. Maybe it’s jus’ ‘cause I saw ya earlier or somethin’…❞

[c-mathison-blog]

She’s almost shocked he doesn’t pull away from her impulse-driven flurry of passion, but rather than being promptly told to fuck off she’s instead whisked away in quite possibly the most hideous car she’s ever seen - it’s a relief to be INSIDE the damn thing so she doesn’t get a headache from staring at it for too long. Nevertheless, she’s in the passenger seat of a gorgeous man’s car. It’s been far too long. And she curses her lack of self control. But surely she deserves some shameless self indulgence, and the way Erik speaks to her is IRRESISTIBLE. At this point, Carrie would appreciate any kind of intimate contact; whether he wants to fuck or cuddle and talk about life honestly doesn’t bother her, she just wants to be close to him.

And it’s stupid. They only just met and she’s jumping into bed with him because he looks like her late lover. What the fuck is wrong with you Carrie?

“Do you say that to all the girls you pick up?” A pause. “Or boys?” There’s a hint of curiosity in her voice. She wants to feel special.

“I dunno, you’re cute, I don’t get what you see in me. But I’m not complaining.” She turns to him, smirk still pasted on her face. “Why don’t you show me?”

[angerlensed-deactivated20161123]

BOMBSHELL

YEP. He’s found himself a little FIRECRACKER. She’s not even DRUNK and she’s playing the game of provocative ping-pong. It all feels unmistakeably CLICHE, stagnating in ash trays and bottomless shot glasses, but sometimes that’s a good thing because a cliche start has a PREDICTABLE end and if he looks real close he can ALMOST peel her clothes off in the back of his mind. Her BOLD cadence BEGGED him to do it. Erik’s an opportunist—Say no more.

❝Everywhere?❞ He likes the sound of that; side-smirk and piqued eyebrow. Carrie’s no SLUT, no back-stabbing little BITCH carrying Gonorrhea between her legs and she’s DEFINITELY no Saint, the perfect equilibrium. Erik pulled from her body heat to DOWN his next beer, not stopping until there was nothing left to FROST green glass with condensation.

      ❝Tell ya what Carrie, why don’t we ditch the dive for somewhere that’s just you n’ me?❞

[c-mathison-blog]

The urge to cease his stupid accent and just fucking kiss him is overwhelming - but she won’t give in just yet. That’ll take at least another beer.

“Everywhere...depends where you wanna go.” She watches him down his beer intently, both in slight admiration and as a challenge. She waits for him to finish before picking up her own and promptly downing it a good few seconds faster than he did. Another flash of that cocky, boyish grin as she sets the empty bottle down on the bar.

But there’s an odd familiarity and warmth about him that won’t leave the back of her mind. She reaches out and takes his hand in both of hers - gently tracing and exploring as she did on numerous sleepy mornings she and Brody spent together. People can look alike and even sound alike, but they never feel the same. And Carrie knows the route around each line on his palm; every crease and callous because she’s been here before. She’s loved and lost him once already, this had to be him.

Even out of a tipsy stupor, she’d still think the same. Not even questioning the name or accent, or the ridiculous clothes. He has to be Brody.

And with that, she grabs his face, kissing him hard in a flurry of a thousand different feelings, but mostly ‘fuck you don’t you ever leave me again.’

[angerlensed-deactivated20161123]

BOMBSHELL

She reminds him INHERENTLY of a squirrel. Frenetic, jittery, and a look in her big blue OCEAN eyes that screamed HELP. He’ll put it down to her so-called BAD WEEK and resume his HAPHAZARDLY chauvinistic attitude; Berating his inhibitions with COLD cracked open beers. Erik glanced, VACANT and blithe, somehow CLUELESS. Apparently morbid humor is old news.

    ❝S'all good toots I got ya. No more DEAD PEOPLE. I can do that.❞ Nailed it. ❝Ehh well       I’m here on business—Kinda. A leisure business sorta thing.❞ Whatever the fuck       that means. ❝If I was lookin’ for any pretty girls, then I got lucky ‘cause you’s is one       hell of a woman I’ll tell ya that right now.❞

He’s all over her like a RASH, like she’s already something to call HIS. Brushing loose golden strands from her face and familiarizing his hands with the groove of her neck. He’s a FAST worker, but so’s everybody in this DUMP. This is him playing NICE.

[c-mathison-blog]

She wants to be put off by his use of outdated endearments and blatantly flirtatious approach, but fuck is he gorgeous. It’s been a LONG time since Carrie received this kind of attention, and part of her wants more. She knows full well that we accept what we think we deserve, and deep down she wants someone to worship the ground she walks on - because god knows she deserves it after everything.

Another flinch at the ‘dead people’ thing. He’s seemingly a bit dense. But his compliments manage to loosen her posture a little more - from rigid to somewhat relaxed. She lets a smirk lift the corner of her lips ever so slightly.

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” And before she knows it, she’s lost herself in his (or Brody’s?) gaze, leaning into his touch; warm and soothing. God, she missed this.

“You’re not so bad looking yourself.” An impulsive wink - hopefully he’ll pick up that she thinks more than just ‘not bad’, she’s not in the right mind to dive into his arms just yet.

[serpentcharm-deactivated2016112]

❝Uhuh. I don’t think that’s how it works Carrie.❞ But there’s no stopping the bullheaded WARRIOR from dipping her problems in booze. ❝—Bed? I’d say that sounds like a damn good plan but keep that up and you’re gonna be spending all day with your head in the toilet.❞

[c-mathison-blog]

“AaAAH-! My house. I’m a big girl I do what I like.” She’s seriously not listening to him. Correction - she heard the first part of his sentence and THEN stopped listening. She grabs him by the shirt and pulls him down to her level, wine on her breath and each word drawn out & slow. “If that’s such a good plan, then join me -- Brody.” The flirtation is absolutely dripping from the slur of surprisingly coherent words. There are about three of him now and she’s not sure which one to focus her eyes on, but the giddy smile is still plastered on her face and she leans up on trembling legs in a feeble attempt to catch his lips in hers. She doesn’t even think she’s that drunk.

[angerlensed-deactivated20161123]

BOMBSHELL

This was GREAT. When it’s usually HIM asking all the questions & conjuring talking points, THIS was a welcomed change of circumstance. Oblivious to her DILEMMA, Erik’s too busy plastering on a CHARLATAN level of bar `decorum`. He liked the way DRUNK girls said thank you.

                             ❝Erik—Erik Eastwood. And what do I call you huh?❞

Poor woman looks SPOOKED like the matrix just spat her out somewhere ALIEN. But that’s alright. He’ll keep her REAL close, lay the CHARM on thick & maker her feel like that special SOMEBODY in a NOBODY’S realm. He orders a beer, FOUR of them, cracking two open and sliding her the first as he leaned on the bar table like a crutch.

          ❝Not so many people would say I’m a nice guy,❞ fucking CUNT is more like it, ❝So I             appreciate that miss. I appreciate it a lot. And YOU’RE a nice lady. What’s a nice               lady got to be so down about? Someone DIE or somethin’?!❞ There it is. That                                          TRADEMARK, Eastwood CHARISMA.

[c-mathison-blog]

Not Brody. It’s all she can think. Not Brody. And it’s half relief and half agony.

“Carrie...uhh, Mathison.”

She IS spooked. So much that her pathetic excuse for a smile is falling fast - she needs to keep reminding herself to look a little bit less depressed in fear of scaring off her only company. He’s strangely charming, but she can’t help but remain slightly unsure. Nevertheless, she exhales contentedly when he hands her a beer, muttering a timid “Thanks.” as she eagerly downs a quarter of the can. Thanks to the half-Irish blood for allowing her liver this kicking.

And there it is. He drops the line that almost makes her drop the fucking beer. The lump in her throat pushes itself up and almost makes her gag. His intentions aren’t cruel behind that, even through her inner turmoil she can tell he meant no real offense - but that broke her heart all over again.

She can’t figure out what to say. Be honest with him and scare him off or pretend to be okay and risk falling over and breaking down into a semi-stranger’s lap? Shit.

“Erik, you do seem nice. Lay off on...that kinda joke though. Please? It’s been a rough ride.” Carrie, cheer up the fucking atmosphere or you’ll lose him. “...What brings you here tonight anyway? Looking to pick up some pretty girls huh?” The cheerful smile and buddy-buddy humour is her choice of diversion and she leans a little closer - somewhat boyish in her posture; something her mother never really liked, but the charm was unique on her. And it had a tendency to work.

[jchastaineds]

Oh, Jesus, we drank too much…

[angerlensed-deactivated20161123]

BOMBSHELL

          ❝Y'know—Let’s say, for the sake of conversation, you WERE followin’ me—  I wouldn’t care, I mean, no…That’s not what I mean. I MEAAAN I wouldn’t be too concerned         ‘cause a girl like you, girls like you don’t usually go around chasin’ guys like me.❞

LAUGHING in the face of irony made an already good drink taste THAT much better. Something about her PEDANTIC disposition was ENDEARING, or maybe that’s the booze talking. Fuck it. Erik hooked an arm around her & beckoned the bartender their way; She wanted a drink? She’s gonna GET one. Or three. Time to play enabler.

             ❝I don’t know aaanything about ya but I can tell you needs at least another five            beers, and so do I. It’s on me so no sweat—Pay day always calls for celebratin’.❞

It’s Friday night. BUSY, bustling. The smell of hard liquor & lust & tobacco PERMEATING the walls, setting on skin BEGGING to be touched. She’s the only girl in the room who’s not dressed to kill or leash a man by his LIBIDO.

[c-mathison-blog]

He’s sweet...sort of. She can’t quite brush her paranoia about a possible ulterior motive; he’s awfully flirtatious. But, she’s been alone all  fucking day and oh god he looks identical to Brody. She had meant to ask him in polite conversation but it just blurts out instead - her head spinning over an impossible possibility. She guiltily leans into the arm around her, wanting to wrap her arms around him and just fucking cry. Although strangers don’t usually take kindly to being cried on.

“What’s your name?” Please don’t say Nick.

But whether it’s him or not those eyes are making her chest flutter. Even if all she’s doing is playing pretend for a while, she fucking deserves it. She takes a seat to his right and smiles softly - something more honest this time. But there’s a lump in her throat as she realizes the correlation between tonight and the night she first went drinking with Brody. She chooses to indulge in the fantasy for a while, knowing full well she won‘t come out of it unscathed. 

“Thanks, I appreciate it. I’m not gonna say no, after this week I need a LOT to drink. Besides, you’re a pretty nice guy anyway.” Meanwhile she prays he can’t see the cracks in her facade.

Just let me be happy for a few hours.

[angerlensed-deactivated20161123]

BOMBSHELL

He’s been called just about EVERYTHING under the sun. Bastard, pervert, douchebag, LECHEROUS… Something to do with letting his eyes wonder where they shouldn’t. But hey, furtiveness was damn near IMPOSSIBLE in public. Erik, CONSUMMED by vices, knocks back one then two White Russians—his poison.

That’s when eyes meet—He spots her like a BLIP on the radar. A blonde and BEAUTIFUL blip. Something he’d like to sink his TEETH into. Literally and figuratively. She’s watching him watching her and Erik being the PHILANDERER that he is isn’t going to let this Heaven-sent opportunity slide. Fuckin’ GODSPEED.

SUPERCILIOUSLY coaxing his fifth shot along the bar’s lacquered surface, Erik sauntered near, leaving no room for MODESTY. Giving her the eye—He’s ADAMANT.

     ❝Hey now don’t go, it’s only uhh…❞ Glancing at his gold Rolex, ❝Not even 10! Waaait a           minute. You’re that broad I saw earlier, huh? What’re ya doin’, followin’ me?❞               His self-loving SMILE passes it off as a wisecrack designed to reel her in.

[c-mathison-blog]

Her voice is stuck in her throat as she freezes dead in her steps, looking up with blown out eyes at the man with his voice.

And apparently his face

Fuck. Shit. She’s drunk there’s no way this could be happening. She wants to lean into that voice but tear herself away because that accent...it’s all wrong. That’s not Brody.

Almost...not quite.

Realizing she’d been stunned for more that a few seconds she musters a smile - not making eye contact with him in fear of fucking breaking down.

“Uhh, following?” Shit. He’d caught on. “N..no. I wasn’t. Sorry, I didn’t mean it to look like that. I was just - fuck I needed a drink.” A sigh - exasperated and exhausted. She’d feel bad to freak to guy out with the ‘you look like the dead love of my life’ bullshit, but she’d been alone all day. Perhaps hanging around could lift her up a little.

And perhaps there’s a hope to cling to after all.

She notices the smile and a wave of relief washes over her, though small compared to the emotional weight threatening to break her. She laughs, forced but hopefully convincing and shuffles away from the door, closer into his vicinity.

“Sorry, I wasn’t following. Not a creep, I promise.”

[c-mathison-blog]

;UNTITLED gingerogue

This is supposed to be a peaceful night off. Carrie’s perched on a plush bar stool, a cold beer in her hand. Frannie is at her sister’s for the weekend so her single mother duties are pleasantly revoked for a couple of days of rest. Supposed to be a peaceful night off. There’s a man at the other end of the bar facing the window. She hasn’t taken her eyes off of him for a good ten minutes. His face is obscured by the dim lighting and his position, but the red hair and broad shoulders burn her from the inside out - his familiar silhouette forcing her to physically ground herself, lest she run towards him and bury her head in his chest and never let him go. But not look at his face. She half wants this man to be someone else; to close the door she’s been trying to pry open for over a year now. But the sentimental part of her just wants him back, secretly hoping there was just a re occurrence of Brody’s capture. He seemed almost invincible. Men like him don’t just die. She’s overthinking, fuck. Bereavement does some serious shit to a person, and she has half a mind to think she’s going nuts. Promptly downing her entire beer with a choked off burp she finds herself leaving her seat, whether she wants to leave or go to the bathroom she’s not sure, but either way she has to walk in his direction, so she chooses to take the safe bet of staring at the ground, her fantastical thinking clinging to the moment she might hear his voice call her over.

[c-mathison-blog]

I have a new RP blog if anyone’s interested! http://libxrtine.tumblr.com/ With a bit of luck that’ll probably be my main one so come see me over there!