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#carol letter
blackacre13 · 2 years
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(Sort of) sorry for blowing up your asks! But since I just saw you mention this -- would love a Carol/Abby origin story fic!! Please?? ^_^
I got a few requests for this and just posted the first one recently here , so this is sort of a part two/Carol POV since that one was very Abby POV heavy.
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She couldn’t bear to face it. That look she knew so well. A mixture of shock and horror and disappointment. Trust that she had earned and then broken into pieces, shattering it and grinding it down to dust. Nothing left to do but sweep it away, under the rug, pretending like there hadn’t been anything to break in the first place.
It was what Carol did. What she’d always done.
And though it wasn’t the same, in some regard, it was every bit the same. After all, everything comes full circle. And perhaps she hadn’t broken her own heart in the process the last time around, but she had left a piece of her soul and betrayed her best friend. Now, she was breaking her own heart and shattering that of her lover’s, who had no idea that when she awoke, Carol would be gone forever. She had to push Therese away. She had to pick up the pieces of her own life she’d run away from, no matter how painful it was to keep moving forward. She had to let go. She couldn’t drag that poor girl down with her, through the mud, with the promise of a life that most likely couldn’t ever be no matter how much she wanted it to exist. She had to release her. Like she did Abby.
Dearest. There are no accidents and he would have found us one way or another. Everything comes full circle. Be grateful it was sooner rather than later. You’ll think it harsh of me to say so, but no explanation I offer will satisfy you.
She stared hard at the fountain pen as she pressed it further into the paper, the ink angered and frustrated, seeping out excess like droplets of blood from a wound before she released her frustration and lifted the pen. It was no use punishing it. This was her own doing. She had always been her own worst enemy, after all.
She pushed people away. She pushed love away. Was it because she was afraid? Was it because she was too weak and tired to fight? The world wasn’t different enough yet, sure. But it couldn’t change without people pushing for that change, and here she was, moving backwards. Standing still. Trying to stop the clock and slip away into the familiar. Into the simple. Into the known.
And she couldn’t face Therese. She couldn’t tell that beautiful soul that she should have never gotten her tangled up in the chaos of her world. In Rindy. And Harge. And Abby.
Abby. Hadn’t Carol put her through enough? How many times had she turned Abby down or given her false hope only to let her down again? And still, Abby had come to her rescue. Had dropped everything to save her and help her, no questions asked. Carol knew she didn’t deserve her.
Please don’t be angry when I tell you that you seek resolutions and explanations because you’re young. But you will understand this one day.
She was older now. Wiser. Perhaps, still more foolish and stubborn than she should have been, but life had handed her enough lessons in the last two decades or so for her to instill some wisdom in Therese, even if she couldn’t understand it in the present. And in a way, it would be easier for Therese not to understand. For her to be angry or upset. She would have an easier time trying to erase the last few weeks with Carol. As if none of this had ever happened. The doll. The gloves. The lunch. The visit. The trip. It could be gone in the blink of an eye.
It was the people who were threaded throughout your life, that you couldn’t truly let go of. Like Abby.
Carol could refuse her advances. Could tell her she wanted her out of her life. But she couldn’t erase the little girl who had sat in the grass, fascinated by Carol and the way she could tie her laces for her. Or forget the bubbly thrill of a feeling the first time Abby had called after her, teasing, “You nitwit!”
And when it happens, I want you to imagine me there to greet you, our lives stretched out ahead of us, a perpetual sunrise.
Yes, it was better to let Therese go. To let the past go. Abide by Harge’s demands and his parents expectations for them and for Carol. Do whatever it took to be able to see Rindy, even if it meant denying her every satisfaction. Denying every bit of who she was. That took strength too, right? Denial?
She was at a crossroads again. Just like she had been that night the Ford broke down. Curled up next to Abby in her childhood bed, finally feeling brave enough to bring up the thought that always lingered on the edge of her mind and the tip of her tongue. Did Abby remember? Of course she did. Carol had never forgotten. Had never forgotten both how strange and delightful it had been for Abby to reveal such a secret to her. Abby had never kissed a boy, which was ordinary for a girl to admit to her friend. But Abby had never wanted to kiss a boy either, and Carol could never have imagined such a thing, until Abby had admitted that she had wanted to try kissing a girl.
Carol hadn’t judged or been scared. She felt trusted and happy that Abby would tell her such a thing. But she hadn’t understood it. At least not then.
But it made her look at Abby differently. It made her curious. Made her wonder if Abby’s lips were as soft as her own. Made her wonder if she would feel those butterflies in her belly the other girls talked about. She had only pretended to have them when she’d kissed boys. She had never really understood why the other girls blushed and giggled and shrieked about it. It had just been so, so. A transaction of sorts. An expectation.
And when she asked Abby to kiss her, everything changed. Everything. Carol finally understood. She understood Abby. She understood herself. But she also understood that she could never have the other things she had always wanted.
A daughter. A great big house. To be a wife.
It would be a life hidden in the shadows. A life only whispered about. There was only so much joy she could seek in secret kisses and sacred touches.
But until then, there must be no contact between us. I have much to do, and you, my darling, even more.
It would be a clean break this time. There would be no difficult conversation. No heart-to-heart to explain what she felt she had to do.
She wouldn’t see the sting she had seen on Abby’s face. The hurt in her eyes when Carol had told her that she had to start taking things seriously, tossing Abby away like a childhood toy for the sake of society and principle and not much else. The pang she had felt in her heart when Abby had let her go, only asking if this is truly what she wanted.
She hadn’t agreed. She hadn’t understood. But she had let Carol go all the same.
Please believe that I would do anything to see you happy and so I do the only thing I can—I release you.
And now Carol understood. Knew why Abby had let her walk away. Knew why Carol had to walk away now.
If you loved something, you let it go. And if you were lucky enough, maybe, just maybe, it would find its way back to you.
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oldshowbiz · 1 year
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Everybody is Disgusting.
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rosepompadour · 3 months
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When Carole Lombard tackled anything it was with all her heart and soul — and that's the way she fell for Clark Gable, in a way that could have been worked only by the miracle that makes hearts beat faster on Valentine's Day. Everyone who knew Carole loved her; everyone loved Gable, too — and when they loved each other it was a romance fit for the gods. - Hedda Hopper, "Three Loves That Thrilled the World" (Modern Screen, February 1949)
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a-very-manly-muppet · 5 months
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Christmas is the best season to have a muppets special interest 💪💪
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raethereptile · 6 months
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Ok you lot
Edit: been told there was a version done last year, so if you guys keep voting yes I'll do a Christmas carol and other assorted Christmas stories by dickens, just to keep things different
Edit 2: December With Dickens Substack! See my new sideblog @december-with-dickens for the happenings, tag #december with dickens
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pollyna · 1 year
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Ice knows there is something important because Slider's head is against his shoulder, but the man is watching the flowers on the table and not the match he had spent all day talking about.
"Sometimes Mitchell knows what the fuck he's doing, doesn't he?" His best friend asks, but Ice isn't sure if he wants an answer back or if he's just mumbling about like he does sometimes when he's anxious.
"Yeah, sometimes he does." Ice decides to answer. "There's something bothering you, Sli?" He adds, lowering the TV's volume.
"Uhm. I- Carole and Goose invited me over for dinner tomorrow night, and I don't know what an appropriate gift would be to say, can I sleep with both of you, together, and come and play house for the next forty years or so?" 
Ice finds himself laughing softly.
"That bad, huh?"
"Yeah, fuck Tom, it's that bad." Slider answers, hinding his face away between Ice's neck and the couch. 
"You should start with a bottle of wine. Maybe you could ask Goose what Carole is thinking of cooking and pick a good bottle. I could tag along to choose it, because knowing you, you are going to choose the first one you see and run out of the shop as fast as you can." 
(In the days to come, Ice is going to share that same story with Carole, Goose and Maverick, about a fresh-faced Slider, twenty-one and finally able to buy alcohol, on the mission of finding a good bottle of wine before meeting Ice's grandma for lunch. Just to pick not only the wrong colour of wine but the type too.)
"Yeah, yeah, you can come with me, asshole!" Slider answers, laughing and looking, for the first time that evening, a little less concerned and a little more excited.
"Why, thank you, sir! And now you can go back to your stupid team of lovers." Turning on the TV definitely closed the conversation, but Ice squeezes Slider's shoulder just to remind him that they can talk about it, whenever he wants. Slider smiles back, shouting against the television a second later, and almost knocks his beer down.
Ice knows Slider is going to be okay, even if he is going to take with him the wrong bottle of wine.
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heartbreak-sandwich · 6 months
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💌Red Letters to Nowhere💌
A/N: Chapter 2 is FINALLY here! Thank you for being so patient with me. I've been having a hard time writing the longer winded chapters lately. In Chapter 2, your first day at your new school wasn't as bad as you thought it would be -- that is, until the day ends, and Billy is less than thrilled with your choice of new friends (angst incoming - no other content warnings for this one).
Read on Ao3 ❤️‍🔥 Chapter One 📖 Master List 🌈
💌CHAPTER TWO: Certain Type of People💌
You spit your toothpaste into the sink, rinsing the last of it down the drain, and jumped with a gasp when you straightened back up to see Billy standing behind you in the mirror. He chuckled and patted you lightly on the back before greeting you with sleep still lingering in his voice.
“Morning, new kid.” He smiled as he opened the mirror cabinet and grabbed his own toothbrush, slathering it with a thick line of toothpaste before getting to work, brushing back and forth vigorously, still smirking around his mouthful.
“Morning,” you mumbled, putting your toothbrush back in its spot in the cabinet and closing it, realizing Billy’s sharp, blue eyes still connected with yours in the mirror. “What?” you asked, your cheeks tinting pink at the heat of his stare. Billy just shrugged, still keeping his eye contact until he pushed past you to spit his toothpaste into the sink. You rolled your eyes and left the bathroom, trudging to Max’s room to make sure she was ready to leave for school.
Max was slinging her backpack over her shoulder, her skateboard resting under her opposite arm, and she looked up as you entered her room. You could tell she was nervous even though you were sure she would never admit it out loud.
“You ready?” She gave you a quick nod, and you turned back the way you came, making your way into the kitchen with Max on your heels. You grabbed the three pieces of toast you had prepared before you finished getting ready and handed one to Max who quickly crunched a bite out of it. You both traveled to the living room where your backpack was waiting.
Billy appeared just a moment later in his denim jacket with a cigarette ready between his lips, keys jingling in his hand. You handed him one of the pieces of toast, and he looked at you like you were insane.
“What’s this?” he asked around his cigarette, glaring down at the offering.
“Breakfast,” you answered, crunching a bite out of your own toast. He finally accepted the toast from your outstretched hand, squinting with suspicion at the kind gesture.
“Thanks, I guess,” he mumbled before striding past you and Max to open the front door. He didn’t wait for either of you as he approached his Camaro, quickly sliding into the driver’s seat and starting the engine with a loud roar. “You guys coming or what? We’re going to be late!” Billy was already impatient. That didn’t take long.
You and Max exchanged a puzzled look before you both exited the home, closing the door behind you, and got into Billy’s car. The ride to school was silent with the exception of crunching toast until Billy grumbled.
“God damn, I can hear everybody chewing in this fucking car,” he hissed before pushing a cassette tape into the player and turning the volume up to an earsplitting level, Judas Priest’s You Got Another Thing Coming rattling the speakers as his led foot kicked in, and he sped down the road toward town.
When you reached the Hawkins High parking lot, the three of you got out of the car, and Billy didn’t look back at you or Max as he slammed his door, flicking his cigarette onto the asphalt and strutting toward the front of the building. The ogling eyes of each girl he walked past were so painfully obvious, it almost made you sick to your stomach. The worst part was the arrogance that oozed out of him with every swaggering step he took and every high five and clap on the back he received from the boys that approached him. He loved this.
“Ugh,” Max scoffed.
“Yep,” you said dryly, knowing she had just come to the same conclusion you did. The two of you exchanged a look before meandering toward the front of the building, Max hopping on her skateboard and veering off to the right to find the Hawkins Middle entrance.
After a visit to the office where Janice, the school secretary with way-too-long purple nails, presented you with your class schedule and a scrap of paper with your locker number and combination on it, you managed to find its location without having to ask anyone - thank God. You were busy fighting with your combination lock when you felt someone run into you from the back.
You stumbled forward, dropping the stack of papers Janice had given you as they flowed all over the floor. You immediately felt embarrassment wash over you as you squatted down to collect them, trying to put them back in order, and you noticed a pair of Nike sneakers and bent denim clad knees in front of you. A boy in a green sweater with tall chestnut hair was helping to gather your papers.
“Sorry about that,” he apologized, handing you the remainder of your paperwork. “Tommy doesn’t know when to use his inside manners.” He looked at you with friendly, hazel eyes and a warm, crooked smile. You both stood up at the same time.
“Don’t worry about it,” you finally said quietly, hoping he wouldn’t notice the blush growing on your cheeks. “And thanks.” He nodded, his smile unwavering.
“Anytime.” He held out his hand. “Steve Harrington. You’re new here, right?” You took his hand, giving it a firm shake.
“Yeah, I am. I’m Y/N.” Steve nodded again and looked like he was about to say something more before a boy with short brown hair and freckles appeared at his side and punched him in the shoulder.
“Don’t be rude, Harrington. Are you going to introduce us to your new friend?” Tommy nodded in your direction as a shorter girl with long brown hair and a pink sweater slid out from behind him as he draped his arm over her shoulders. She blew a bubble and popped her gum as she eyed you up and down, waiting for Steve to oblige Tommy’s request.
“Y/N, this is Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins,” Steve said through a sigh as he gestured to each of them respectively. Before Tommy and Carol could join the conversation, the morning bell rang, and the sea of students started to part in different directions.
“I’ve got to get going,” you told them with a soft wave. “It was nice to meet you guys.”
“See you around!” Steve called after you as you beelined for your first class at the end of the hall. You sucked in a deep breath before entering the classroom, praying the teacher wouldn’t make you stand at the head of the class and introduce yourself.
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By the time lunch rolled around, you were exhausted. You made your way back to your locker to exchange your textbooks for your copy of The Outsiders. You were ready for a break, so you decided to explore outside beyond the football field to find a place to read. On your way outside, you passed by Billy who was standing in a circle of people wearing expensive shoes and letterman’s jackets, all talking loudly about someone named Tina who was hosting a party that Friday. You met his eyes, but only briefly because he quickly looked away to refocus his attention on the conversation in his circle, obviously not wanting to be bothered. Go figure.
Beyond the football field, you found the edge of a seemingly thick forest. Breaking through the line of trees, you walked for a few minutes until you noticed a picnic table in a small clearing. It was a neat little spot, and you wondered what it was doing all the way out here. You didn’t see anyone else around, so you set your backpack down on the table and took a seat at one of the mossy benches, opening your paperback and immediately losing yourself in its pages.
After a few moments, the rustling of leaves startled you. Your head snapped in the direction of the sound to meet the gaze of a pair of friendly, deep brown doe eyes nestled beneath a mess of long, dark, curly hair.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” the man said, holding up a hand. “Are you…here to buy?” You stared at him, perplexed.
“Buy?” You furrowed your brows and continued to stare.
“Or not,” he deduced with a grin. “People don’t usually come all the way out here unless they’re looking for me.”
“Oh,” you responded flatly. “Sorry. I didn’t realize this was somebody’s spot. I just wanted a quiet place to read.”
“During the lunch hour?” He smirked at you and crossed his arms. “Come to think of it, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you before.”
“You haven’t. I just moved here.”
“A month into the school year?” He whistled loudly. “Rough.” He took a seat on the bench across from you, clattering a black lunch box onto the table in front of him. “I’m Eddie.” He held out his hand for you to shake, and you obliged.
“I’m Y/N.” He made surprisingly deep eye contact and smiled as he repeated your name.
“Y/N. Charmed.” You blushed slightly and hoped Eddie didn’t notice, but his grin made it obvious that he did.
You surveyed the patches and pins on his denim vest – Megadeth, Iron Maiden, Judas Priest. His style was different, alternative, and he noticed you eyeing him.
“You like music?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye, clasping his hands together and resting his elbows on the table.
“Sure. I can tell you do, too,” you answered with a cheeky smile.
“Is it that obvious?” He scoffed and looked down at his hands for a moment. “Do you smoke?”
“I never really liked the smell of cigarettes.” You scrunched up your nose at the thought, and Eddie cleared his throat with a chuckle.
“Uh, not that kind of smoke.” A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he waited for you to answer.
“I don’t get it.” Eddie sighed and rolled his eyes.
“Grass? Weed? Do you smoke weed?” You felt embarrassment rise to your cheeks as you responded.
“Oh, right. I have before, but it’s not a regular thing,” you answered, fidgeting with your book on the table.
“Consider it a welcome gift,” Eddie declared, opening his lunch box and handing you a small baggie with a tiny green nugget inside.
“Oh…thanks, I guess.” You gave him a kind smile as you pocketed your baggie and closed your book.
“Don’t mention it.” Eddie closed up his lunchbox and stood up from his bench. “Tragic news on the horizon.”
“What’s that?” Eddie let out a long, exaggerated sigh.
“It’s about time to get back to class.”
“Oh, right A travesty.” You slung your backpack over your shoulder and continued to make small talk with Eddie as you both marched your way back to the school, parting ways when you emerged into the foyer.
What you hadn’t noticed was a pair of blue eyes burning into you from across the parking lot as they watched you walk into the building with Eddie Munson by your side and a smile on your face.
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The rest of the day went relatively smooth, but you were glad to be heading home after so much excitement. Returning to your locker a final time, you collected your study necessities for the night.
“Hey,” a familiar voice greeted as you slammed your locker closed.
“Oh, hi,” you answered. Eddie’s smile widened when you returned his greeting. “I just wanted to ask you –”
“Y/N!” Billy’s voice boomed in the hallway over every other sound, causing passersby to stare in your direction.
“Billy.” Your voice was small. Why was he yelling at you?
“Time to go,” he said flatly, staring daggers into Eddie whose face fell into a frown.
“Sure,” you answered. “Just one second. Eddie wanted to ask me –”
“I’m not your fuckin’ chauffeur. I don’t wait. Let’s go. Now,” Billy demanded, his voice getting louder by the second, hands balling into fists at his sides.
“It’s okay. I’ll catch you tomorrow,” Eddie conceded with a tight lipped smile and a half wave as he hurried in the opposite direction of where Billy stood. You scoffed and glared at Billy before pushing past him and stomping out to the parking lot.
Max was already waiting beside the blue Camaro when you arrived with Billy sauntering behind you with his usual swagger, taking a moment to wave at some girls who were giggling and whispering as they crossed his path. You rolled your eyes and opened the passenger door for Max to get into the back seat before seating yourself and slamming the door closed.
Billy’s mood was icy, and you could practically feel the eggshells under your feet as soon as he sat down.
“Don’t slam my door,” he said flatly, keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead.
“Don’t be a dick to me in front of my friends,” you countered, folding your arms across your chest. “Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson is not your friend.”
“Right. Because you get to decide who my friends are.” You glared out your window, wishing you could be anywhere else when –
“Hey!” Billy grabbed your wrist hard enough to get your attention and held it up as he spoke through gritted teeth, his menacing eyes searing into yours. “There are a certain type of people in this world you stay away from.” Billy’s grip on you tightened, and your eyes brimmed with tears. “And that guy, Y/N,” he seethed, squeezing harder. “That guy is one of them.”
Billy shoved your wrist back into you, and you turned your body to look out your window again. You could see Max’s worried expression in the side view mirror as a tear escaped and ran down your cheek. What the fuck was his problem?
The rest of the drive home was silent, and Billy didn’t utter another word or even look in your direction again until dinner time.
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You were setting the table when he entered the dining room and took his usual seat.
“Smells great, Susan,” he gushed with a sickeningly sweet smile.
“Thank you, Billy,” your mom replied, pressing a hand to her heart. “It’ll be ready in just one second.” She hadn’t stopped talking about how impressed she was with Billy’s manners since she met him. You rolled your eyes at his display. What a kiss ass. You could feel his eyes on you as you finished your task and sat down across the table from him, but you avoided making eye contact.
After a couple of minutes of silence, Billy fidgeted with his knife, tapping and scraping it on his plate before sighing dramatically, tipping his chair backward onto two legs. You finally looked at him, and he was still staring directly at you.
“Did you want something?” You weren’t amused by his method of garnering your attention, and you were even less thrilled with the way he had spoken to you earlier. Billy leaned forward in his chair and rested his hands on the table, speaking in a hushed voice.
“I wanted to say sorry. For earlier.” Your eyebrows shot up in surprise at his apology.
“Okay, I guess. Thanks,” you answered tentatively, your eyes narrowing.
“I just –” he shifted in his seat again and chewed on the inside of his cheek as he chose his words carefully. “I have a reputation to uphold, you know? The pressure is indescribable, but it has its perks. If people see you hanging around with The Freak and they know you’re my –” he stopped as if saying the word “sister” might induce vomiting. “If they know that you live here, and we’re…associated, then I start to take the flack. Do you get what I’m saying?” You nodded slowly and scoffed, looking down at your empty plate.
“I understand what you’re saying, but I think it’s stupid,” you retorted. Billy’s expression didn’t change.
“It might be stupid, but it’s better to be on top than to be one of them,” he said dryly, leaning back in his seat again, looking at you through hooded eyes.
“To each his own.” Billy nodded at your response when your mom piped up from the kitchen.
“Come and get it!” Both of you rose from your seats and parted ways, Billy going towards the kitchen and you heading to Max’s room to tell her dinner was ready.
You poked your head in through Max’s door and rapped on the doorframe.
“Hey,” you said, stepping over the threshold into her room.
“Hi,” she greeted, looking up at you from her bed. You could instantly tell she had something on her mind.
“Dinner’s ready. You okay?” She nodded and looked away from you for a moment before answering fully.
“I just – I didn’t like seeing Billy talk to you like that earlier in the car.” Max locked eyes with you, and you frowned.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize. He does.” Max was angry. Injustice never sat well with her, especially when it came to her big sister.
“He did,” you reassured, and her eyes widened in surprise.
“Really?”
“Yep,” you affirmed, nodding slowly. Max was quiet as she processed the unexpected news, and she finally stood up, setting her comic book down on her pillow.
“Didn’t see that one coming.”
“Neither did I,” you agreed.
*Tag List: @lithium80sblog @justsimonrileythings @b1tchy3lf @jozstankovich @darleenjade @jenna-jd @peachyaliien @dananahenderson @strangerthing933 @yoyokiss97 @californiaboytoybilly - if you want to be added, let me know! 💕
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korn-kob · 1 year
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Bitches be losing sleep over silver fox Ebenezer. I'm bitches
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cloudtinn · 5 months
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Love Letter (1995) // Carol (2015).
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bleaksqueak · 1 year
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Curious. I'm a huge horror fan, and I'm in a big mood for some reason or another (... probably the whole RE4 remake thing. Something something.)
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vintagetvstars · 1 month
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Fun fact about Carol Cleveland:
She was one of the first 'bunnies' to work at the Playboy Club in London, was modeling beside building her acting career and has actually won several "Miss" titles in beauty pageants during the 60s. But that's not actually all there is to it.. Although she is primarily known for her work with Monty Python, she has also played many other leading and supporting roles in (tv) productions in both the US and the UK and studied acting at the RADA. [A lovely overview of all that can be found on her webpage!]
Additional propaganda to reblog: https://www.tumblr.com/commonguttersnipe/721944099912105984/insert-photo-compilation-of-carol-cleveland-being?source=share
Thank you so much for sharing! I love hearing more about everyone’s various favs!
Additional propaganda has been reblogged!
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lovespotion9 · 1 year
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yoooo, broken telephone got me fucked up holy shit. fwb + pining is one of my favorite guilty pleasure tropes ngl, and the way you write their character interaction is painfully beautiful, absolutely sublime. i hope everything's good w you & your fam, nd i'd love to read more, (of course no pressure tho).
Broken Telephone II
TW: 18+ | minors, please dni <3 | Angst | Smut | Vaginal Fingering (r! giving) | Strong Language | Degradation Kink | Sadism | Bottom!Carol Danvers | Top!Reader | Severe Overstimulation | Use of Safeword | Oral Sex (r! giving) | FWB Trope | GN!Reader | No pronouns used for reader | Reader is kind of... loopy? | NO happy ending | No aftercare | Use of Y/N |
Read Part I -> HERE
Wordcount: 1.7k
WARNING: I kinda went the crazy route with this one 😊
You awoke to the rhythmic rain pattering against the floor-to-ceiling window beside your bedpost. The familiar sound of snoring that you had grown to take an unusual comfort in sounding soft beside the water droplets hitting the glass. 
Your head swirled with vague memories of the night before, the thought of what an anxious, emotional wreck you had been making your stomach churn. That, along with the soreness that seemed to spread to a new place with your every breath–  fought inccessantly to keep you conscious despite your many efforts to roll over and drift back asleep. 
You decided you’d make your usual french exit, peeling back the duvet you had convinced yourself many others had slept beneath, you quickly slipped from the bed you deemed suspiciously comfortable. 
You took a moment to admire the different coloured bruises and bitemarks littered across your skin, examining the shared scars and scratches spread across Carol’s back next. 
Quietly, you burrowed through the wistful collage of discarded clothing spread untidily across the carpeted floor, hissing at the stubbing of your toe against the bed’s wooden leg. The action does lead to you finding your misplaced underwear, though. They lie a bit beneath the bed beside a lone sock, and as you finally tear your gaze from your task of silently shuffling your panties up your legs, your mouth drops in horror as you meet the smirking Avenger’s gaze. 
“Don’t let me stop you.” She chuckles in a groggy morning voice that makes your insides flutter. 
She smirks as if your scrambling to leave undetected is the funniest thing in the world, eyeing your half-naked form with amusement and lust. 
“Got someplace to be?” Grinning, she peels back the duvet, revealing her own naked body. Instinctively, you turn your head in the opposite direction– although you’ve seen her like this more times than you cared to count. 
Ignoring your reaction, she slips from the sheets- moving closer to you as she ties her hair back into a low ponytail. You draw your gaze to your own feet, too embarrassed and emotional to stress the fact that you’re standing topless in front of the woman who you’d just recently decided that you hated. 
“You alright?” She asks, expression softening at the realization that you weren’t reciprocating her humour. 
You hesitate for a moment, briefly considering the bizarre idea of confessing your feelings for her right then and there. Breaking down, burrowing your tear-streaked face into her bare chest, telling her how much you needed her, how each night you two had spent together meant more than you could even put into words. But you quickly came to your senses once her warm touch causes you to remember that touching is the only thing she cares for from you. 
“You seem…” She scans your face, lips slightly parted as she searches for the right words. 
“I’m alright. Just a bit out of it, maybe still a tad asleep.” You lied, rubbing the non-existent sleep from your eyes for extra effect and half-smiling. 
“Well, then. How about I wake you up?” The words are whispered softly into your skin, and you’re not sure if the sense of relief you feel is thanks to her believing your bold-faced lie or the soft lips that you adored pressing delicately to your shoulder blade.
She doesn’t wait for a response. Instead, she moves behind you and slides the panties you had worked so hard to get on down your legs with ease. 
“Carol,” You groan, grabbing for her hand that now trailed slowly between your thighs. 
“Do you want me to stop?” Her head is quickly withdrawn from the crook of your neck, hand moving just as fast from your cunt. 
“No, no. Just-” Stammering, you turn to look her in the eye, sure to return the lustful gaze she was just giving you. 
“Come.” You order, gripping her wrist and pulling her into the untidy restroom. Relying on your impulsive thoughts and the random wave of adrenaline that had just washed over you, you push her hard against the shower door, drowning her in a passionate kiss before she can return the favor in a fight for dominance you knew you’d lose. 
You kissed her as if your life depended on it. Like oxygen was more a want than a necessity. Like, somehow, if you mashed your lips together hard enough, if you held her close enough, she’d feel the same way about you that you did her. Like maybe, just maybe, if you fucked her good enough, she’d begin to confuse her arousal and satisfaction with infatuation. 
Mistake lust for love. 
Just as you feared you might’ve.
She hums in pleasure as you grope her breasts, opening the clear shower door and roughly shoving her into the empty shower room. You barely give her enough time to flick the shower water to life before you’ve captured her lips in another bruising kiss. 
Her eyes shoot open with shock as she gasps for air in between kisses, you do the same- slowly dropping to your knees before her and looping each of your arms about her wet thighs. Moaning at the taste of her on your tongue, delving into her folds before she’s gotten the chance to spread her legs even a bit for you.
Lapping furiously at ther clit before taking the entirety of it into your mouth, sucking brutally on the throbbing bundle of nerves before lifting your gaze to meet hers. 
She wore the same shocked expression for all of 10 seconds before it quickly morphed into bliss. You eyed her hungrily, raking your sharp nails down the back of her thighs and drawing an aggrieved grunt from her pretty mouth.
You were getting rougher– taking your anger out on every patch of skin you could reach in her body. You began to draw blood from the flushed skin on her thighs as you furiously lapped at the folds of her cunt. Carol grabbed a tense hold of your hair, subtly pulling you away from her as you continued to ignore her moans of a delicious mix of pain and plesure.
One finger slips from her right thigh, teasing her sloppy, wet hole and occasionly bumping into your chin which was violently rubbing against her core. 
“Y/n, yes, please. Fuck,” You’d never heard her beg before, she never once said the word “please” to you- even in casual conversation. The desperation that lingered in her brown eyes as she peered down at you was all the reason you needed to give her exactly what she unabashedly begged for. Moaning at the clearly-satisfied reaction you get once you finally push a finger into her cunt, you’re far from hesitant to add a second. She gasps in pleasure as her nails lightly scratch your scalp through the strong grip she’s taken on your hair. 
Her moans rise into the steamy air as you thrust and curl your fingers. Lightly teasing her clit with your tongue through puckered lips. 
“Y/n, more, please! I’m so close, fuck!” She cries out into the air. 
What if you’re confusing your teammates just as much as you’re confusing yourself? What if it doesn’t work? What if she truly doesn’t love you and no amount of astounding intercourse will change that? 
What if– 
Pushing the thought aside, you obey immediately, pushing a third finger into the already-spasming superheroine above you and quickeing the laps ofyour tongue against her slick heat. 
She comes undone with a screech of your name poorly muffled by her own palm. 
You contine to fuck her into the wall, pace speeding up as she sobs for you to slow down. Hearing her beg for you had you feeling like a man starved of sound, hearing a seraphic melody drift through the air for the first time. 
It was almost sadistic, the way you revelled in her pain, her begging of your leniency, your mercy. 
You wanted to make her feel the way she made you. Hurt. 
You wanted to fuck her so good that she’d be physically and mentally unble to leave your side, to turn your amorous proposal down. 
Her pleas soon fell on deaf ears as your indefatigable fingers pushed deeper and deeper into her, drawing the… what? 4th orgasm from her? You sure as fuck weren’t counting as you sobbed into her warmth. 
The shower water went cold and suddenly all you could hear was “Red, red, red.” in between sobs. Carol jammed her arm against the button, stopping the stream of water as she fell to the ground. (not literally) You both sat in your designated corners of the counterintuitively large shower in silence for a moment. All that could be heard were the soft plops of the remaining water falling from the now-disabled showerhead and your broken cries of “sorry, I’m so sorry”. 
Your tears confused her as she searched your face for an indication as to what the fuck had just happened. 
“I’m sorry.” You croaked. 
“Y/n, it’s alright– you didn’t hurt me, I just had to tap o–” 
Your wet feet slapping against the tiled floor cut her off as you wordlessly walked out of the bathroom and back into her bedroom. 
You pulled your clothes on, the sheet of water and sweat draped across your whole body rendering your flimsy top useless. 
By the time you were heading for the door, Carol was nothing more than a simple blob against the bathroom door through your vision, which was obstructed by tears.
Her touch, her smell, her essence was all over you– and you fought tirelessly to get it off as you waited at the stoplight that seemed to last forever and a day. Slapping at the sleeves of your blouse and wiping the slick from your face with a shaky arm you struggled in the driver’s seat of your car like a wounded and demented wild animal.  The ticking of your left blinker was all you could hear, even after you had switched it off after your wavery turn down the unknown street. You were driving someplace. You didn’t know where– you just knew that it would have to be far enough from fucking Carol Danvers.
Author’s Note
Hi, babies! I'm very sorry if I donked up this series with my peculiarity! I'm Love, if you don't know me-- and this is my formal re-launch into writing after an unfoundedly long hiatus. I've been feeling a little down this month, so my next few fics will be dark and/or angsty. Feel free to request anything you'd like, though! I really do love to hear from you lovelies. <3
Thank you for reading,
Love
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oldshowbiz · 11 months
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1988.
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theofficegallery · 11 months
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CAROL CHRISTIAN POELL “ARRIVALS °023 @ the office gallery”
Photography: Antonis Minas for the Office gallery
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pollyna · 1 year
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They are all frozen inside of a picture that has yellow corners but all his colours intact, like the day it was taken, because it's that kind of picture that you share and cherish like the most important of your treasures. It's the five of them: Carole sitting in the middle of Ron and Nick, the three of them showing off their rings, and Nick's arm around Tom's shoulder, who was giving no attention and was more interested in kissing Pete than looking at the camera.
"It's a good picture." Bradley finds himself speaking to an empty room.
"Yeah, it's a good picture." Ron, uncle Slider, Admiral Kerner, answer, strolling into the room like he owned it. "It would be even better if I wasn't the last of them." he says with a small, humourless smile. Empty as Bradley's house is and Mav's hangar always will be.
"We should talk." Bradley says, sitting down, he's not sure if his legs could still stand what's coming.
"Yeah." Ron says before looking at the photo between Bradley's hands. "Yeah, we should. It's time."
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