My Ao3 | Masterlist Welcome to Carol Denning hell. Be prepared to scroll through the relics of a particularly fanatical time for everyone who saw a middle-aged murder on TV and instantly became infatuated. @ people who find this blog a year later and like 17 posts in a row: ur valid
My poor old masterlist. So neglected. So poorly formatted. Here’s a new one.
SFW Free!Carol:
Adjusting (Carol gets a job)
Vacation (Carol and reader go on vacation)
Television (Carol and reader watch modern TV)
Change (Carol goes shopping)
Drunk (Carol goes to a bar)
Part 2
Lewis Carol (Carol gets a dog)
SFW Present Carol:
Thunderstorms (soft!Carol comforts reader)
Jealousy (Carol x oc, soft!Carol is jealous over her crush)
Tension (reader gives Carol a massage)
Facade (socially oblivious reader makes friends with Carol)
Facade II (remarkably similar to the plot of Facade)
Dancing (reader has to convince Carol to dance at a valentine’s party)
A Christmas Carol (reader gets Carol a present)
Empathy (soft!carol comforts reader)
Pretty Face (Carol draws reader)
Fatigue (reader falls asleep on Carol)
Comfort (Carol snuggles)
A Fic (What is A Fic? Is it fluff? Is it a character study? No one knows but it was definitely the start of the decline. Witness my downhill spiral into failing creativity in real time.)
Tattoo (Carol’s girlfriend discovers a mark of the past).
Flu Season (mandatory taking-care-of-them-while-sick fic)
SFW Young Carol:
Jane (Carol x OC fluff)
Confessions (Another Carol and Jane short)
Protection (Carol gets protective when the reader is in danger)
NSFW Present Carol:
Happy Birthday, Carol (Carol x reader + strap-on action)
Unwinding (Carol x reader, Carol gets topped)
Prison Issue Bra (Carol x reader, 69ing)
Tension and Release (virgin Carol x reader)
Crazed (dominant Carol)
Artificial Cherry (Carol x vibrator)
Keeping Tabs (Possessive Carol)
The One Where Carol Gets Spanked (what it says on the tin)
I Have No Idea What I Called This One (uh.... curvy Carol).
NSFW Young Carol:
The Deadly Sin of Envy (reader flirts with other women to make Carol jealous)
Ties That Bind series (NSFW):
The Longing Inside (Carol x Frieda. Carol gets hot and bothered over her magazines and enlists Frieda to help).
Power and Enmity (Frieda’s frustration with Carol comes to a head)
Deepening (Carol and Frieda’s relationships grows stronger)
The Limit (Frieda begins to have doubts.)
The Fracture (The epic conclusion.)
Loved in Spite series:
Trouble begins when a woman from Carol’s past is placed in Litchfield Max.
Parts One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine
Green (potentially a series if I ever get off my lazy ass)
Chapter One
Other Characters:
Fear and Fire (A take on season six’s events with a Nicky/Carol pairing. Implied NSFW).
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Hngggg I just spent over an hour making a new masterlist and right when I was finished but moments before I clicked ‘post’ my computer automatically restarted
I hate that I have to ask this but is the Carol fandom... still........ alive? Thinking of getting back into some fic writing but let’s face it my only motivators are my hunger for attention and validation from others
“How are you feeling?” asked Carol, swooping into Marilyn’s cell. The brunette looked up from her book, revealing a heavy purple bruise on her cheekbone. “That looks bad,” Carol winced.
Marilyn pressed her fingers to the spot. “I just hope the guards don’t ask questions.”
“Like any of them fuckin’ care about their jobs,” griped Carol. She squinted at Marilyn. “What are you reading? I can’t see from here. I can’t see anything from here, actually.”
“How do you even get new glasses in here?” asked Marilyn.
“You have to get someone to pick up your prescription on the outside,” explained Carol.
“Do-” Marilyn paused, contemplating the possible impact of her words. “Do you have anyone on the outside?”
Carol snorted. “Yeah, I got people on the outside. Just not the kind of people who would go around doing stupid favors for me.”
“Ah,” nodded Marilyn. “So was there something you wanted to….”
“Yeah. I was wondering, um, if you would have a drink with me later?” Carol cringed as her voice raised in pitch towards the end of her sentence.
Marilyn nearly laughed. “W-what?” she asked, suppressing a grin.
“Would you. Have. A drink. With me later,” repeated Carol with sarcastic emphasis, her ego struggling to make up for her fumble moments ago. Marilyn looked no less incredulous. “Y’know, hooch,” she supplied. “We can sit in the showers. It’s humid in there. Like you’re in a spa, kind of. After all, I think you owe me one.” She raised an eyebrow for effect.
“Yes, I do,” agreed Marilyn. “Do you think that’s a good idea? I mean, after last time?”
“Oh yeah, I’m fine now,” assured Carol.
“And Badison?”
“She’s been taken care of,” nodded Carol. She noted the shocked expression on Marilyn’s face. “Not like that! But she won’t bother you again.”
“I’ll see you later then,” smiled Marilyn.
“Later,” repeated Carol.
-----
Marilyn was strolling through the common area when something made her pause. “Excuse me,” she said to a blonde inmate. The woman looked up and raised her eyebrows. “Where did you get that?”
“What, you didn’t hear everyone calling me Gapman? It’s my tooth.” She bared her teeth, revealing the jagged edge.
“No, that.” Marilyn pointed to the tube of superglue clutched in her hand.
“Did someone a favor.”
“Can I sit?” asked Marilyn sweetly, pointing to the bench adjacent from the inmate.
“Okay. I’m Piper, by the way.”
“Marilyn.” The pair smiled at each other, enjoying the unspoken bond between uptight upper-middle-class white women.
“That’s some bruise you have.”
“Badison,” snorted Marilyn. Piper chuckled and pointed to her broken tooth.
“Me too.”
“Do you think I could borrow that?” Marilyn gestured at the superglue.
“It’s mine,” said Piper plainly.
“You’re gonna use that whole tube on that tiny little tooth?” Piper scowled. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. What if… I do you a favor?”
Piper looked thoughtful. “Are you friends with Carol?”
Marilyn was surprised. “What?”
“Oh, it’s just - I’ve seen her in your cell a few times,” explained Piper.
“Yeah, we are, then.” said Marilyn. “Why?”
“Well,” said Piper, eyes sparkling with a sudden excitement, “I was talking to the head of Rec, and… we’re bringing back kickball!” She paused, anticipating an equally avid response, but received none.
“Kickball?” asked Marilyn.
“It was a big deal back in the day.”
“I can’t really imagine Carol playing kickball.” Marilyn chuckled at the image.
“Not Carol, but her crew. Do you think you could get them to sign up on here?” Piper passed Marilyn a folded paper full of names.
“It might take me a while,” frowned Marilyn. “But I need the glue now.”
“Why?”
“My, um, my pendant broke. I need to fix it.” Marilyn scrambled for a cover story.
“You’re not allowed to have jewelry in here,” said Piper in a skeptical tone.
“Only if it’s religious,” explained Marilyn. “It’s my crucifix. It’s really important,” pleaded Marilyn. “I’ll only need it for a minute. I’ll pass the paper around today, I promise.”
“You know that’s not how prison works,” frowned Piper.
“Please?” Marilyn begged.
Piper sighed deeply. “Fine.” She slid the superglue across the table. Marilyn snatched it up. “Bring it right back.”
“I will. Thank you so, so much.” Hurriedly, Marilyn rose from the table and scurried back into her cell. She waited patiently for a moment until Piper was distracted once more, then ducked into Carol’s cell before anyone could notice.
She found what she was searching for immediately - Carol’s broken glasses were lying on her desk. Tucking the halves into her pocket, she returned to her cell and pulled out the superglue. Attempting (and failing terribly) not to get any of the substance on her fingers, she glued the frames back together where they had fractured at the bridge. She held the glasses up, admiring her handywork. Not too bad.
-----
Carol was waiting for her outside the showers with a large stack of towels in hand. “You ready?” she asked with a smirk, hitching up the side of her uniform top to reveal the shampoo bottle tucked into her waistband.
“I have a present for you too,” said Marilyn.
“My glasses!” gasped Carol. She examined them carefully. “How did you do this?”
“Superglue,” smiled Marilyn, silently picking at the dried glue on her fingertips.
“Impressive,” she praised, sliding them onto her face. “Ahh, that’s so much better.”
As the two women got comfortable, several other inmates started their showers. “Doesn’t it bother you?” asked Marilyn.
“What bothers me?”
“That you can never be alone in here, ever. I’ve done four years already and I’m still not used to it,” said Marilyn. “There’s always another person right next to you.”
“I see your four and I’ll raise you my almost-forty,” joked Carol. “I’m used to it.” She shrugged. “Got no choice, I guess.” She passed Marilyn the bottle, who took a swig and cringed deeply.
“Ugh, you couldn’t have washed this bottle out better?”
“It has to smell like soap,” explained Carol. “The guards will check.”
“Does it have to taste like soap too?” she complained, but took another sip anyway.
One of the women showering began to sing in a high, wavering voice. “Reminds me of Stacy,” observed Marilyn. “From high school?”
“Yes!” snickered Carol. “She’d sing so fuckin’ loud in the locker room. Always wondered who she was trying to impress. What do you think she did in life?”
“Looked her up on Facebook a few years ago,” said Marilyn. “She did really well. Ivy-league college, tons of awards, and she’s a lawyer now.”
“Really! Guess she was smarter than I thought she was,” frowned Carol.
“Wouldn’t count on it,” said Marilyn. “She used to pay me to do her homework in senior year. Like, all of it.”
“No way!”
“Yeah, it was a regular thing!”
“Fuckin’ rich kids,” griped Carol. The pair fell silent for a moment. “Whatcha thinking about?” she asked.
“Somewhere, in Grandview State Park, there’s a tree that still has ‘MG Luvs CD’ carved into it,” mused Marilyn. Carol gave a deep groan. “What is it?”
“I just realized something awful,” she sighed.
“What?”
“I peaked in high school!” Carol fell into a fit of giggles.
“Aww, come on now,” cooed Marilyn, but she couldn’t bring herself to deny it.
“I did!” insisted Carol with a drunken passion. “Maybe I wouldn’t have, if it weren’t for Debbie,” she mused. “But I don’t have a life in here. I’m alive but I’m not living.” She frowned as the tone of the conversation sombered, reaching for the bottle again.
“I know,” whispered Marilyn. “I’m sorry, Carol.”
“What do you have to be sorry for?”
“Really? Remember how angry you were with me when I first got here?”
“Yeah, I do,” sighed Carol, lips curling into a tiny smile.
“You were right,” said Marilyn.
“Now that’s something I never hear from you,” laughed Carol.
“Let me finish! I could have contacted you. I mean, not right away, but after I left home. I should have written you a letter or something. I knew how alone you were, and yet I did nothing. And that’s what I’m sorry for.” Marilyn stared solemnly at the floor.
Carol nodded, but remained silent. “Thank you,” she whispered after a moment. “And thank you for the glasses.”
“It was the least I could do,” said Marilyn.
“Nuh.” Carol shook her head. “You don’t get it. These people,” she leaned in close to Marilyn, “these people in here, they do everything I tell them to. They follow me. They obey me. I can have anything in here. Anything I want! And there’s always someone who will get it for me, someone to take the fall, someone to do the dirty work. I barely have to pay for favors anymore. People just do things for me because I’m me.”
“Okay,” said Marilyn, somewhat perturbed by the evident strength of Carol’s ego.
“But what you did for me, the glasses? You didn’t do it because I forced you to, or because I paid you to, or because you had some shady fuckin’ motive. You just did it because you knew it would help me. Because you were being nice. No one else would do something like that for me.”
“It’s funny,” chuckled Carol ruefully, “I always wanted to be loved. I thought I’d be happy when I was loved. But now,” she sighed, “everyone loves me, but no one likes me. That’s worse.”
Marilyn felt an overwhelming sympathy towards the damaged woman. “I like you,” she said.
“Oh, please,” snapped Carol, rolling her eyes. “Save it.”
“I do. You want me to prove it? Hmm?”
“What?”
“Here,” said Marilyn, pressing a deep kiss to Carol’s soft, thin lips. Carol closed her eyes and let it happen, not yet fully comprehending the reality of the situation. She gazed up at Marilyn curiously as the brunette pulled away, her expression unreadable.
“Uh, Marilyn, I-” started Carol.
“Fuck. Sorry. I’m sorry. That was stupid,” said Marilyn, getting to her feet and hastily gathering her towels. “Sorry,” she repeated. “Thanks again for the hooch,” she muttered, rushing out of the showers.
“Marilyn, wait!” called Carol, but she was already out of earshot. She shut her eyes and groaned in frustration. “Come back?” she whispered aloud to the nearly empty room.
Good question! I’m worried about it being too similar to Loved in Spite so I’m being careful moving forward. Also Loved in Spite is pretty much the only thing I’m working on right now, as I’m having trouble writing anything that isn’t already firmly established.
So while I’m not officially abandoning it, I can’t say when I’ll get around to updating.
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When you vote a straight democrat party it changes Beto to Cruz on some machines. If you’re in Texas and voting please RECHECK your answers. If your machine does this, notify someone working at the polling site.
One year after the #MeToo movement took off, new NPR-Ipsos polls show the nation deeply divided on sexual assault and harassment, with fissures running more along party lines than gender.
Most — 69 percent — of more than 1,000 Americans surveyed, say the movement has created a climate in which offenders will now be held accountable. But more than 40 percent feel the movement has gone too far.
What exactly “too far” means wasn’t defined in the surveys. But in follow-up conversations, several respondents cited a rush to judgment, the prospect of unproven accusations ruining peoples’ careers or reputations, and a bandwagon effect that may prompt some to claim sexual misconduct for behavior that doesn’t quite rise to that level.
On whether alleged victims of sexual assault should get the benefit of the doubt, 85 percent of Democrats agree, compared to 67 percent of Republicans. That party gap is nearly twice the size of the gender gap.
On #MeToo, Americans More Divided By Party Than Gender
Sorry I know I haven’t updated this in a literal month! Hopefully I still have readers. We’re back on track now with some drama + Carol breaking her glasses....
----
Carol awoke very early, as she always did. She would tell you that it was because she was disciplined, one of the select few who could will themselves to get up at such an hour. Or perhaps she would reflect on the importance of meditating and enjoying the peaceful silence before the rest of the prison began to stir.
The real answer? She needed extra time to do her hair.
She made no effort to quiet her actions as she moved around the cell, making her bed with tight corners. Prison rules may dictate she have a roommate, but make no mistake, this was her cell. Squinting at the scratched, tiny plastic mirror, she teased her hair up into its usual shape, taking extra care to make it lie perfectly.
Marilyn was being released from Ad-Seg today.
Of course, Carol was adamant that her extreme attention to her appearance was unrelated.
-----
Marilyn looked weary and defeated as she was led back to C-Block. Her eyes were dark and puffy from the chronic lack of sleep and her hair was a tangled nest, a far cry from her usual carefully arranged brown curls. Not that she cared. There was no one who would see or care.
Except Carol.
A new sense of desperation rose up in her. Running into your former high school sweetheart several decades later shouldn’t require more than a few lines of small talk and a modest dose of reminiscence. Perhaps you'd go home and find each other on social media that evening, if you were feeling particularly warm and nostalgic. Later you would meet for an airy chat over a cup of coffee, wherein you fill each other in on the lives you’ve built without them, and a few months later, a hastily arranged lunch, by which time you both realize the social adhesive of after-school hobbies and teenage hormones has long dissipated. Here you are - two completely opposite individuals, with separate lives that do not intersect.
At least, that was how it was supposed to go. Marilyn realized what part of the equation was missing: Carol had built no life of her own. Anything of value, intrinsic or otherwise, had to be stashed away or hidden in prison. And that left no room to create a life. Whereas Marilyn could look back on their relationship with a very distant fondness, Carol still very much lived in the same moment.
Marilyn shoved these thoughts aside. There was no use in dwelling on it, especially when she was this tired. Carol was what she was, and they were locked in here together.
-----
“You’re back,” stated Carol, edging to the doorway of Marilyn’s cell. The woman, who was lying face down on her bed, stirred slightly.
“Mmm,” groaned Marilyn, sitting up and blinking drowsily. She turned to face Carol. “You look nice today.”
Carol snorted at that, but also afforded a small smile. “You don’t,” she smirked. Marilyn sighed. “Hey, why don’t you go take a shower? The lines are probably gone by now, and well, you look like you need one,” she offered.
Marilyn nodded slowly. “Yeah, good idea.” She rose from her bunk and shuffled across the cell, pulling out her cosmetic bag and bunching up a towel. “I’ll, um, talk to you later then,” she stammered awkwardly, eliciting an amused look from Carol.
Carol leaned against the doorway, watching Marilyn leave with a fluttering sense of anticipation. As she was almost out of the common area, an inmate rose from one of the tables. Badison. The blonde followed Marilyn, marching quickly.
An expression of satisfaction spread across Carol’s features. Everything was falling into place.
----
Marilyn closed her eyes as she stood under the warm cascade of the shower, feeling the hot water trickle across sore muscles and stiff joints. Sighing, she turned to reach for her shampoo only to find herself completely cornered.
Badison gripped either side of the shower stall and leaned forward. “Hey,” she drawled, tilting her head towards the shiv clasped in her hand. Marilyn covered herself hurriedly, looking around for a means of escape or defense. “I don’t know who you think you are,” she continued, “but Carol seems to have a real soft spot for you. Or,” Badison’s eyes glittered, “maybe she wants you in her soft spot.” She snickered at her own poor joke.
“Look, Badison-“ started Marilyn.
“BUT,” interrupted Badison, “That gives you no fuckin’ right to fuck with me,” she growled.
“You don’t have to do this,” pleaded Marilyn, voice trembling.
----
Carol leaned against the wall, listening intently to Badison’s monologue. It was true; she could have stopped Badison before she had even left the common area, but where was the usefulness in that? No, it was best to let Marilyn get good and scared before Carol heroically interceded at the last possible second.
She regarded the plot she had created with a smug pride. Fine, Carol admitted she was drawn to Marilyn. Wanted to be close to her, even. And what did friendship require? Trust. Usually such a fragile thing had to be cultivated very slowly, the accumulative product of many hours and microscopic interactions.
But she’d be damned if she hadn’t found a hell of a shortcut.
------
“Now, I don’t know if you know this,” chuckled Badison, “but there’s rules in here.” Her eyes narrowed. “Rules, that if you break, you get punished for.”
In a less harrowing encounter, Marilyn would have pointed out that the pair of them lived in such a place as this because they were punished for breaking rules, but settled on a barely audible “I know”.
“Oh, you know!?” mocked Badison. “Then why’d you rat me out? Because you knew Carol would let you get away with it? Well,” she gave an angry, snorting laugh, “I’m not!” She lunged forward with surprising speed and Marilyn stumbled away, hands raised to defend herself. She gave Badison an almighty shove, the blonde giving an angry shout as she staggered backwards. Marilyn pressed her fingers to her forearm to quell the sudden stinging she felt there; her fingertips came away bathed in crimson.
“Badison!” shouted Carol, sprinting over. The enraged inmate paid Carol no mind, regaining her footing and charging in for a second attack. The idea that those rebellious in nature cannot be lead or commanded is patently false; a rebel is merely one who will not subscribe to an authority which possesses different views then one’s own. Badison and Carol found their mutuality on a deeper level than most; on the surface they were contrasts, caught in an endless cycle of mutiny and punishment, but they shared the same thinking - a criminal’s thinking. Their affinity for power and revenge was a common one.
But at this moment, they had some very differing opinions on who was deserving of revenge.
“Badison, stop!” repeated Carol, reaching the shower stall. Badison turned and swung at Marilyn, her fist colliding with her face with a resounding crack. Groaning in pain, Marilyn collapsed, slumping into the corner. “Badison!” screamed Carol. The blonde was hovering over Marilyn’s crumpled form, weapon raised. The razor blade melted into the plastic handle glinted sharply in the overhead lights as she held it aloft. A terrifying thought hit Carol - she had power and command, sure, but if that was ignored, did she really have the strength to physically stop Badison?
She charged in anyway, blindly struggling with the larger inmate as she gripped the fist that tightly clutched the shiv. She slammed Badison’s hand against the tiled wall repeatedly, hoping to weaken her hold on the weapon. Badison attempted to shove her away, mashing the palm of her hand into Carol’s face, managing to knock her glasses to the floor. Carol grunted, grasping the shiv as tightly as possible with both hands, and gave a tremendous yank.
Mercifully, she felt the shiv slide out of Badison’s grip. Carol regained her footing shakily, brandishing the deadly weapon as she stood over Badison, the pair of them becoming drenched from the still-flowing spray of the shower. “Go.” said Carol quietly. “Go! Get out!” Badison scrambled to her feet, but remained still, staring at Carol with a wild, searching expression. “Get the fuck out,” repeated Carol. “We’ll deal with this later.” Badison gave a sharp nod. Was that a hint of fear? wondered Carol.
“T-thank you,” stammered Marilyn. Carol shut the water off and reached for Marilyn’s towel, hastily averting her eyes as she covered the woman. Marilyn gasped for air, struggling to calm her breathing.
“Come on, we have to go,” said Carol. “The guards might have heard that.” She squinted, looking around for her glasses. “Oh, oh no,” she groaned, bending down to retrieve the two individual pieces they had fractured into. “Fuck.” Carol tucked the broken frames into her uniform pocket. Marilyn inspected the cut on her arm. “Do you need to go to medical?” asked Carol, concerned.
“I don’t think it’s that deep,” she frowned, motioning for Carol to turn around so she could get dressed. “My cheek hurts pretty bad, though.” She pressed her fingertips to the red mark on her face.
“Marilyn, come on!” she urged, looking expectantly at the entrance to the showers, expecting the COs to arrive at any moment. She ran her fingers through her flat, wet hair anxiously.
“I’m coming,” said Marilyn, pulling on her uniform top.
“Just go,” said Carol. “I’ll get rid of this.” She nodded to the shiv in her hand.
“Really, I can’t thank you enough. If you hadn’t been there-”
For some reason writing about real people squicks me out. Perhaps it’s easier to justify the whole process of writing fanfiction if I can shove all this in a box labeled “not actually real”.
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I’m sad that the Carol tag is dying 😭 people keep liking everyone’s post so I know that people are still looking at it but no ones posting and a lot of blogs are gone now I miss everyone 😭
Sadly, she was a character with a short role who only appeared for a few minutes in 10 episodes. I think it was bound to happen; there’s not a lot of content and my writing is becoming dull because all I have to draw from is lollipops, cigarettes, and hairstyles.
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