#peletiersdixon

[carylerxsecretsanta]

50 Days

Written For:@peletiersdixon

Title: 50 days Author: @lola-andheruniverse Rating: T/ Teen and Up Audiences Summary: “With shivering fingers, she grabs the framed picture from her bookcase and looks at it. Looks at him. Really looks at him. There it is. The same look she sees everyday when they walk with Dog. The same look he had when he said he loved her, fifty days ago. A look he’s being giving her for years now. Maybe since the beginning of them.

You do love me...don’t you?” A/N: This is the first time I’ve written a fanfic in over 15 years, and the first time ever writing for caryl. I hope I made them justice. English is not my first language. I struggle with commas and I like my ‘and’s. There’s no beta work here besides my grammar check app so I apologize for any mistakes/typos. Kudos to anyone who can find my little references to Doctor Who.

Dear Liddy, I used your favorite scene as base for this story + a little speculation on my part for TWD:DD and The Book of Carol. Fingers crossed that you enjoy it. I wish you a Merry Christmas and a 2024 full of beauty, light and fun.

____________________________

“I love you.”

He says it like it is the most profound thing to say. Like it’s an old secret or a promise long kept. He says while looking at her like she’s someone endearing to look at. And she doesn’t understand why. Of course he loves her. She knows he does. She’s his best friend! Silly man.

Why are you saying this to me now?

She giggles just a little. Shrugs and fights the need not to nod condescendingly because this is clearly important to him. And she knows better than anyone that he doesn't say anything he doesn't fully intend to say.

“I love you too.”

She says it back because apparently he needs to hear it. Because it's the umpteenth time they'll be apart and it's good to say goodbye without leaving anything unsaid for once. Because it’s true.

Don’t you know it already?

He smiles that little smile that she secretly adores. Caresses her face with his hand and hugs her. Cradles her head and she breathes that unique combination that’s him – pine, grease, leather, sweat, tobacco, petrichor – and everything should be perfect for one small moment, but it isn’t. Because she can feel through her shoulder that he’s chewing on his lower lip and through her chest that his breathing is heavy. Sometimes a hug is just a way to hide your face.

What? What is it? What is wrong?

But there’s no time for her to understand because their hug is over too soon and he’s smiling again but it doesn’t reach his eyes. She sighs and looks at the vast blue sky to not see him getting on the bike. It really is a beautiful day to hit the road. He watches her intently for a beat.

What, Daryl?

She keeps smiling because she doesn’t know what else to do. What else to say. She needs him to go because all of this fucking hurts and she doesn’t deal well with hurt. She’s keeping together because he deserves to leave while she has a smile on her face. He deserves to see that she’s fine. Just a little sad, as she told him. He probably needs to see that she’s fine. Or else he won’t go.

I don’t want you to go.

He said it’s not like they’re not going to see each other again. So she focuses on that and keeps smiling. This is not the time or place to think about what she wants. He can go. He’ll be back someday and she’ll be here. That’s fine. She’s fine. He can go.

And so he does.

She watches him grow smaller and smaller on the horizon, feeling like a kid that got a puzzle for Christmas with a missing piece.

____________________________

She doesn’t deal well with hurt, but she’s damn good at compartmentalizing, so that’s what she does. She keeps going, trying her best not to count the days since he left.

03 days.

It’s not like things are completely different from when he was there. Her daily routine is basically the same. She wakes up at 5am and takes Dog for a walk. When he’s home they do it together, enjoying the sunrise and the last hour of quietness before the town wakes up. It’s the only time they have to be alone and talk. Sometimes they reminisce about previous homes and lost family members, or about what the future holds for the kids and for Lydia. Sometimes they just coordinate what their day will be like because Judith needs a new pair of shoes and they’re out of butter. She realizes, with a bit of surprise, that they've probably talked to each other more this past year than in all the years they've known each other. Most of it they just watch Dog running around enjoying each other’s company. There’s a distinct void by her side where he should be, but she does her best and ignores it. He’ll come back eventually. She’s fine.

05 days.

She cooks breakfast for the kids and makes sure RJ has everything he’ll need for school. The boy has a special talent for putting his things away and instantly forgetting about them. She thinks he got it from Rick. God bless him.

09 days.

The CW and all of its sister communities are home to a few thousand people and the paperwork to keep track of everyone and everything that happens everywhere is endless. Hornsby had many flaws, but sloppy wasn’t one of them. The man registered every single thing he knew and even a year later she’s still working her way through his notes and digging out shady information. It suits her fine. She’s very good at her job. Before, she could finish things up by 7pm and be home for dinner time. Now she needs to leave at four, so she can pick the kids up from school and take care of them. That’s not a problem. No better hour than 3am in the morning to read a 65-page report on poppy harvesting.

14 days.

She dreams that night that he’s hugging her and it’s so vivid she can feel him around her hours later. It makes it especially hard to focus on her meeting with Mercer and Ezekiel that afternoon. The CW Autumn Festival is a week away and Mercer is trying to convince the eternally enthusiastic Ezekiel that there's no need to add more activities than what's already planned. It’s a lot easier to work with him now that he’s an elected representative of the people, but sometimes the King in him tries to get out. When the meeting is finally over, he tells her every festival reminds him of Henry. There's nostalgic joy in his voice and an easy smile on his face. He’s done grieving. She excuses herself and goes to the roof. She lights up a cigarette but resists the urge to inhale. She just needs to smell the tobacco in the air for a few minutes. Her heart aches with longing and she pretends it’s only for Henry. She’s fine.

21 fucking days.

On the day of the festival, they have a great parade to celebrate all the special residents of the CW. Jude walks in front of the swordsman section with her katana with so much grace that Michonne would swell with pride. Lori would too. That’s why she’s there. That’s why she stayed. To take care of little ass kicker for them. For him too.

22 days.

It’s almost midnight and she’s sitting on the porch, stargazing, a cup of lukewarm coffee in her right hand. Today was a good day. Lydia came home for the festival and is staying a whole week this time. The girl does a wonderful job as a mail woman for the communities. It’s rare to have her stay for more than a couple of days. Her room is always clean and ready for her. She makes sure of this because if anyone deserves a welcoming home, it's Lydia.

“Hey.” She hears her before she sees her because all the lights are off. She revels in the fact that even when the girl speaks softly, there's a distinct lightness to her voice that her teenage self didn't have.

“Hey you. Shouldn’t you be asleep?” On the other hand, her voice sounds motherly, no matter how much she wishes it didn’t. She just can’t help it.

“Oh, I’m on my way. I just wanted to give you this.” She hopes Lydia doesn’t notice how her breath catches for a second or that her hand shakes slightly as she takes the letter from her. The paper is folded twice and one end is stained with water. She can’t read it in the dark, but she can smell it. It smells like him. “I picked it up on the last dropping site up North ten days ago, but he probably left it earlier than that. I'm sorry I didn't give it to you sooner. You were just so busy with the festival.”

“Oh, that’s okay. Thank you for delivering it to me now. But it’s late and you need to rest. You work too much. Do you want to eat anything else before going to bed?” There’s just too much affection in her heart, motherly voice be damned.

“No, no, I’m fine. Good night, Carol...I miss him too.”

She takes her time, pretending her heart isn’t beating anxiously. Drinks the rest of her now cold coffee. Gets inside and leaves the mug on the kitchen sink to wash in the morning. Checks on RJ and Judith to make sure they are sleeping. Instead of going to her own bedroom, she opts to enter his room. Like Lydia’s room, she makes sure to clean it regularly. Dog sleeps in his bed every night and when she sits down next to him, she is greeted with a wagging tail and a sloppy lick on the cheek.

“Hello, hello, you. Calm down. I’m not here to sleep over. Calm down.”

She turns on his lampshade and finally, finally, opens his letter. His voice fills every space in her mind.

Carol,

I’m on the road for 11 days now. On the third day the damn bike broke down and I had to scavenge some parts to fix it. It’s working fine now. No other problems so far – good weather, few walkers, no people. I’m catching small game near the road and I still got most of my rations.

I wonder how many days it will be before you receive this letter. Probably a lot because I’m using the last dropping site on the North border. Sorry to leave you without news for so long. I’ve been thinking about you though. I bet you’re working your ass off even worse now that I’m not there to stop you. Don’t you go and exhaust yourself, okay? Try to sleep more than four fucking hours a night and eat your food, your paperwork ain’t going nowhere.

How are the kids? The parade thing already happened? Tell Jude I'm wishing her luck, but I’m sure she is going to kick ass. What about RJ? He promised me a drawing for every day I'm away so put him to work. The kid is a fucking artist, I swear. Shit, now I’m homesick. Give them a hug from me, please? Lydia too, I suppose she’s home since you got my letter. Tell her I miss her. We don’t see her enough. She works too much just like you.

I’m going to cross the border tomorrow. It may take some time, but I’m going to find some way to communicate with you. I promise. So don’t you worry too much. I’ll be back before you know it. You won't even have time to miss me. I miss you though. Every day I watch the sunrise and think about you (and Dog).

I love you. See you soon.

Daryl

She breathes in. Traces his words with her finger. Breathes out. He wrote that he loved her. They exchanged letters when she was on the boat. He's never done this before. She’s intrigued, to say the least. What led him to say these words?

Why, Daryl? Why?

____________________________

25 days.

She keeps the letter under her pillow and every night, before she goes to sleep, she rereads it, trying to decipher his intentions. She recalls him saying it just before he left, and she knows there’s something she’s missing but she has no idea what it is.

29 days. Why did you say you love me? Why did you write it down?

Jude gets her period for the first time and, while preparing a hot water bottle for the girl, she has to hold back tears and stop thinking about how she never got the chance to do it for Sophia. Hilltop is struggling to harvest enough food to contribute to all sister communities because its soil is still recovering from the fire caused in the war against the Whisperers, and it causes a small political crisis.

33 days. Why, Daryl? It’s not like you meant it that way, so why did you do it?

She talks with Gabriel over the radio. There's some stomach bug going around Alexandria; he's worried they won't be able to control it with the resources they have. She personally arranges for everything they need to be delivered, sends an extra doctor to help, and dreams about killing Karen and David for the rest of the week.

45 days. You can’t mean it. It’s me. I don’t deserve it.

It is time for the bimonthly meeting between the sister communities and Aaron shows up accompanied by none other than Dwight. He comes to present his intent of rebuilding the Sanctuary as a community and to ask for the CW’s help. He talks for hours. All other agendas are postponed as this ghost of their past comes back and tells them stories about cowboys and radioactive walkers, Morgan and Sherry, becoming a father and burying his son. His voice is decided and steady, but his eyes have this subtle glint of someone who’s thinking how the hell they got where they are and when they can leave. She can relate. The day ends, and they need more hours to come to any decision, so everyone agrees to resume their meeting the next day. Her family always stay the night at their house when they’re in town so she asks them to go ahead while she finishes up the meeting’s minutes. She just needs a moment to sort out her own feelings. 

She’s back at her office, staring blindly at a sheet of paper and there’s a knock on her slightly open door. Dwight’s there, hands in his pocket, a question in his face.

“May I come in?”

So formal. “Yes, of course. Can I help you with something? Did anyone tell you where you can stay the night? Usually it’s Mercer who…”

“Yes, yes, he’s waiting outside. I just need to ask you something.”

“Okay. Sure.”

“You’re Daryl’s, aren’t you?”

She blinks one. Twice. “I’m sorry. Come again?”

“When I went to Alexandria a few days ago, I asked for Daryl. You see, he’s the one who released me. He didn’t forgive me for what I’d done, but he somehow understood my reasons. He told me to go find my wife and never come back. I did what he told me. I found Sherry. I had a son. I fought other wars. I lost my son. I came back.”

“He gave you a second chance.” Of course he did, that was who he was. He was good.

“He did. He really did. And I’ll never be able to repay him for it. You know, for a long time, I didn’t get why he let me go. He should have killed me, I wanted him to. Sherry got it before I did. Right from the start, probably. He told me once, but I wasn’t paying attention. He told me he understood why I joined the Saviors because I did it thinking about someone else. And that’s why he couldn’t do it. That he wouldn’t break for the same reason I did.”

Yes, she knows what Dwight’s talking about. At least, she knows enough. Over the years, he's provided her with enough information to know what they put him through while he was Negan's hostage. She never asked him directly. He told her what he wanted, when he wanted, as he healed. It’s in the past now. He grew up from it. He never broke because he was a man of honor. He loved his family, he would not betray any of them.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’m following. And I need to get back to my family. What is it that you’re trying to say?” 

Dwight looks at her like he’s confused by her confusion.

“Back at Alexandria, Aaron told me that Daryl didn't live there anymore. That he had moved to another community with ‘Carol and the kids’. It made me happy. When my son was born...When Finch was born, I told Sherry that I had Daryl Dixon to thank for it. Regardless of all the things that happened...I’m sorry for all I put him through. For killing Denise. I’ll never be not sorry. Daryl’s a good man. A better man than I’ll ever be. I’m just really happy that he got a second chance in his life too.” 

Oh. Oh. She feels her eyes enlarging while he keeps talking, misunderstanding everything. 

“Aaron told me that he left some weeks ago but nothing more. I would like to talk to him. I need to thank him. So that’s what I wanted to ask you. When does he come back?”

“I’m not Daryl’s.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“You got it wrong. I’m not Daryl’s. We are friends. We take care of Rick’s kids together. That’s it.” Her voice sounds angry and loud even to her own ears and she cringes internally.

Dwight creases his brow and looks directly in the direction where she knows there’s a framed picture of them with all the kids from the last summer festival. It’s a completely chaotic portrait of them. RJ is crying because he spilled juice all over his shirt two seconds before the photograph was taken. She’s trying to soak part of it with a few napkins, full mommy mode on. Jude’s mouth is open, caught in the middle of a phrase, trying to console him. Lydia’s the only one looking at the camera, smiling shyly, with a sorry look on her face. And he? He was looking directly at her, that adorable smile adorning his lips, handing her more napkins. The background is blown out and the image is grainy. It’s perfect. 

“We are not together the way you think we are.” She says quietly, but firmly. “I don’t know when he’s coming back. But when he does, I’ll tell him about you and that you want to talk to him. I’ll tell him to go to the Sanctuary. I can’t promise you that he’ll go, but I can promise that I’ll pass the message.” This man needs to leave. Please, just leave.

He’s still looking at the picture. Slowly, he directs his attention back to her. 

“Why not?”

“Why not what?”

“Why are you not together?”

She’s stunned. What the hell is happening? She had never talked to the man before and here he is asking her something that he hadno business knowing. Why are they not together? Let’s see. They’re not together because he doesn’t love her like that. Because he’s too good of a man for her. Because she’s lucky enough to have him in her life as it is. Because if he loved her he would have said something. 

But you did, didn’t you? You said it and you wrote it down. And I don’t know why, but I know you. And you wouldn’t play with my heart like that. So...Does that mean…?

No, it doesn’t. She’s being ridiculous. She can’t allow herself to think about the possibility. Because she wouldn’t survive if she got her hopes up and he rejected her. Because if anything was going to happen, it would have happened this past year. And, again, because he doesn’t love her like that.

“He doesn’t love me like that”. She only registers that she’s said it aloud after it’s out.

Dwight glances at the picture again. Sighs. “Well, I don’t know why he left and if it has anything to do with you two. But maybe...Look, Daryl told me to go and find Sherry. That’s what he wanted for me. That’s what I want for him too. You should go and find him too.” He nods to her once and leaves, closing the door behind him and leaving her completely thunderstruck.

____________________________

47 days.

Dwight, Aaron and everyone else are finally gone. The Sanctuary is officially part of the CW’s network. In two weeks she’ll travel there with Mercer to assess what they need and what they can do to contribute. How wonderful! She never looked forward to anything so eagerly. She’s fine.

48 days.

The kids are sleeping over with Eugene and Maxxine because they need help with their science fair projects. She misses him like crazy. She cries herself to sleep while hugging his letter.

49 days.

She’s dreading the fifty-day mark so much that she tells Ezekiel she needs a break and spends the entire day hiking in the woods beyond the walls. She stops by a creek around midday and lights a cigarette and it’s like he’s there and she laughs and she cries and she feels like her mind is shattering because she’s thinking absurd thoughts and her heart is beating completely out of rhythm and reaching out to him wherever he is and she can’t pretend anymore that she doesn’t love him with all she has and she has loved him for a long time now.

I love you. I do. I do. I love you.

She thinks about him. How he looks at her when the first rays of light touch her hair during their morning walks with Dog. Them becoming a unit at the prison. And then becoming strangers in Alexandria. Him saying he would never hate her, even when she thought she had ruined his chances of happiness. (How many times he said to her it wasn’t like that with Connie and she refused to listen? God.) The Cherokee Rose and the beer bottle. Hunting together while she was a pretend queen and he was king of the woods. Locking eyes with him across rooms and instantly knowing how he felt about something. Getting her heart wrecked when they fought in the cabin. Kissing his forehead, mindful of his stitches. Being held by him when she lost both her children. Riding the bike to escape death but, mostly, to experience life. Following his light.

And I think...I think you might love me too.

50 days.

She doesn’t understand how she stepped out for one single day and there are six new reports on her desk to read and sign. It’s ridiculous, to say the least. She’ll have to skip dinner to get it done or stay up to 3am again. At least there are leftovers in the fridge.

“Excuse me, miss deputy secretary?” Lucy, Communications intern, is at her office’s doorstep. “You’ve got a call over the radio. The connection is terrible, but apparently it’s mister Dixon.”

Her heart drops all the way through her stomach and she nearly knocks the girl over in her rush to run out of the room toward the communications office, which is two flights of stairs up. She doesn’t even register who’s operating the radio before picking it up.

“Hello! Are you there?”

A beat.

“Hello! Hey! It’s me.”

Oh my god.

Relief rushes through her veins so fast she feels dizzy. “Daryl!” She reminds herself to breath. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I have a radio here. I thought, what the hell? How you doin’?”

I love you.

“Where’s there?”

“I’m in Maine, by the coast. Everything good there?”

No. I realized I love you and I’m completely losing my mind.

“Yeah, you know, pretty quiet here.”

Liar.

“Quiet’s good. You okay?”

He deserves the truth. At least a little bit of it. “Yeah. Just takes some getting used to, that’s all.”

I miss you. Daryl. I miss you.

Another beat. Dammit. She shouldn’t have said anything.

“You sure you’re okay?”

I‘m not. I’m daring to wish for things that I shouldn’t.

She thinks for a second. She doesn’t want him to worry. Worry gets you distracted. Distracted gets you killed. And she needs him to come back.

Come back to me.

“You never have to worry about me, Daryl. How is it out there?”

“I’ll tell you all about it when I see you. I’m just gathering up some fuel. I’ll be there in about a week. I promise.” Shit. He’s worried. Shit! But she can’t find in herself to care too much about it right now because he’s coming back.

You’re coming back?

“Copy that. Hey, Daryl?”

You’re coming back.

“Yeah?”

I love you.

“Dwight came back.” That was not something he needed to know while on the road. She’s overwhelmed and not thinking throughout.

“Who came back? Carol? W…”

The interference sound gets too loud and she can’t hear him anymore. Maybe she got cut on his side too because he didn’t get what she said last. But he heard enough.

“Daryl? Can you hear me? Daryl? Dwight. Dwight came back. Daryl?”

“We lost the signal, miss.” Says the radio operator, shutting it down, before she’s ready to accept that their conversation his over.

She feels her eyes watering and has to rapidly blink to avoid crying. Say thanks to the operator and slowly but surely gets back to her office. Shuts and locks the door for good measure. With shivering fingers, she grabs the framed picture from her bookcase and looks at it. Looks at him. Really looks at him. There it is. The same look she sees every day when they walk with Dog. The same look he had when he said he loved her, fifty days ago. A look he’s been giving her for years now. Maybe since the beginning of them.

You do love me...don’t you?

He’s coming back. In a week, he’ll be back. She has seven days to prepare herself, so when he gets here she can tell him that she loves him too. Without giggling, without shrugging, without doubt. Seven days. She can wait. Seven days are nothing compared to all the days that they’ve already lived and those that will come. Hopefully. She’s fine. She can wait. They had enough bad timing. Time to get back to work. Those reports won't read themselves.

[sasakisniko]

Happy Birthday, @peletiersdixon!!!

[lola-andheruniverse]

AU Thursday - Caryl Fanfiction Rec

Hello, dear fellow carylers! Another fun AU for you to enjoy, with a flirty, happy Carol and a talkative, relaxed Daryl. It's a little pill of joy and fluff, especially for those who are short on time like me but still want to read a cute fic today.

Strawberries and Moonshine, written by tarascarol/Jazzabenton/ @peletiersdixon is posted on 9Lives and AO3.

Summary: Farmer's Market AU.

Originally written for the 2018 Nine Lives Summer Escapades Fanfiction Challenge.

Rated: T Word count: 1.977 Published: July 22, 2021 (one-shot)

You guys know the drill by now! Read, review and rejoice! Caryl on!

[mcbride]

which movie matches my vibe? thanks much for tagging me @simoneashley 🤍💫

rules: list your five fav films and ask which matches your vibes the most (it's so hard to pick only 5, but here we go)

tagging (feel free to ignore if not in the mood): @peletiersdixon @finnickodaiir @nessa007 @sasakisniko @ncutii-gatwa

[peletiersdixon]

constellationsoftears >>> peletiersdixon

[gunmetal-ring]

CARYL PREDICTION GAME RESULTS!

so it occurred to me that i forgot to ever follow up on the prediction game that you all so excitedly signed up for - hopefully this post won't be upsetting to you but i figured i owed it to you to tie a nice little bow on the spinoff + season 11 debacle.

so for both my sanity and the purposes of this game, i am of the opinion that caryl is officially canon. daryl, of his own volition, told carol that he loved her. point-blank. no two ways about it. additionally, he did so with the "in case i never see you again i need you to know i love you" situation at hand. so therefore i feel like caryl is canon, regardless of my feelings about its execution (which i have aired previously but won't digress here)

so. since some of the categories were no longer applicable (i.e, there was no right answer given the way caryl went canon), i eliminated them for all fairness' sake. so the total amount of points you could get was 8. 1 point for each correct guess (6 applicable categories) and then 2 bonus points for correctly guessing the episode they went canon (not everyone participated in this question so i gave it as a bonus).

and! the winner! is!

ANON! with 6 points! lmao (they guessed 4 categories correctly and then also correctly guessed the episode!)

2nd place was @onlyoneovaryohgress with 5 points!

3rd place was a tie between @sparksflamesembersashes, @carylmeanslove, @charlibubble, @constellationsoftears (i think this is the right blog but if this isn't correct please link me to peletiersdixon's new page!), @my-mt-heart, and @lighteneverything all with 4 points!

if you participated and would like to know your exact score feel free to ask me i just didn't want to put people on blast if they didn't get 1st 2nd or 3rd place. if it helps i only got 3 points lol

also if you want to know the exact breakdown of how your points were calculated let me know too i just didn't want to clog up this post

thanks for playing everyone!

[sasakisniko]

Show me your 4 favourite books/series

Tagged by @edwinspaynes. Thank you so much for tagging me!

Six of Crows represents the Six of Crows/Crooked Kingdom duology and Ninth House represents Ninth House/Hell Bent. I do love my Leigh Bardugo books. XD

Tagging @peletiersdixon, @thereadersmuse, @pearwaldorf, @dont-offend-the-bees, @stydiaeverafter, @frenziedblaze, @winged-fool

[lola-andheruniverse]

Fix It Wednesday - Caryl Fanfiction Rec

Dear fellow caryler, to make up for my absence in the last few weeks I selected two fix-it fics for today. Both one-shots correct two pivotal moments where Carol and Daryl could have advanced a step forward towards canon and release us from our collective suffering if they just used their damn words to express what they were feeling back then. Also, both authors have not been recommended yet and are incredible caryl authors. I truly recommend you to check their other works. I hope you all enjoy these stories and bask on the beauty of what-could-have been.

I Will Be Your Remedy written by TarasCarol aka @peletiersdixon is posted both on 9Lives and FF.net.

Summary: What if Carol and Daryl were never interrupted by walkers while laying in bed in the women's shelter?

Rated: T / Teen and Up Audiences

Word count: 1284

Published: December 27, 2015

A glimpse where Daryl's heart and mind were in Consumed. So ready to understand and help the woman he loves, but not knowing how to do it. If s5 Daryl hadn't been interrupted by the zombies, maybe s10 Daryl wouldn't find himself in a similar situation years later. Beautiful, beautiful fic.

Words Unspoken written by @the-space-between1013 is posted on 9Lives.

Summary: What if...Carol ran before Daryl could find her? Set pre/during 7x10.

Rated: G / General Audiences

Word count: 1313 

Published: March 04, 2017

Despite loving how Carol and Daryl reunite in New Best Friends, how I wish this is what happened instead on TWD. Very emotional fic that lets Carol and Daryl act on their feelings and stay together. They deserved it.

As always, please, don't forget to leave reviews for both authors. Feedback is love, and love keeps a fandom alive. Caryl on!

[mcbride]

NORMAN REEDUS as DARYL FUCKING DIXON in THE WALKING DEAD [dt @peletiersdixon]               5.06 “Consumed” // 9.04 “The Obliged” // 11.15 “Trust”

[jaibhagwan]

Caryl prompt: Christmas in July

It was the hottest month of the year. Even though it was still fairly early in the day and the sun had not quite reached its peak, the temperature was already damn near sweltering. The sweat seemed to be pouring off Daryl in buckets as he was cutting down the tree. He cursed to himself when his hand almost slipped on the saw. He was miserable. 

“Seems like such a waste,” he stated when he finished and the tree came crashing down.  

“It’ll be worth it,” Carol asserted as a pungent, pine-scented cloud wafted pleasantly in the air. “You’ll see.”

“If you say so.”

“We were on the run all winter. There was no time to celebrate then.”

“It’s a stupid holiday. Some fat guy slides down the chimney to leave presents?” Daryl scoffed. “Not in my neighborhood.”

“Sounds like someone’s jealous.”

“Pfft.”

“Well, you're entitled to your opinion, but you didn’t have to come all the way out here to complain about it,” she said in a frustrated tone as she bent to help him lift the tree onto the back of the truck. “Glenn offered to help me.”

Daryl narrowed his eyes at her as he tried to shake off his irritation. It hadn’t been his intention to act like an ass, but the humidity had gotten the best of him. “Why’s it so important to you?”

“It was Sophia’s favorite holiday.”

Daryl swallowed the lump that quickly formed in his throat and wished he had just kept his damn mouth shut.

“And with everything that happened for us to find this place,” Carol continued, ”I just thought it would be a nice way to celebrate. It’s not about the presents really. It’s about the giving.”

"M'sorry. Guess I never really thought too much about it. Maybe the kids could use a treat.”

“Well, Daryl,” she said, climbing into the driver’s seat, “when it comes to Christmas, it’s exactly the thought that counts.”

Daryl closed the door behind her and made his way to the other side of the cab, watching her curiously from the passenger seat as she drove them back up the road to the prison with unfaltering determination.

After Daryl hammered a few pieces of scrap wood to the base of the tree, he stood it in the corner of the vestibule. “This where you want it?” he asked Carol, trying to be more helpful.

“Yes, it’s perfect.”

He smiled. “What else you need for this special occasion?”

“Beth and the kids are making decorations to hang on the tree. You could help them if you want to. Have you ever made a paper snowflake?”

Daryl shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Snowflakes are easy. I‘ll show you!” cried Molly.

Before he could object, Daryl found himself sitting at the table taking lessons from the seven-year-old. He watched as the girl folded the construction paper a few times then made some clumsy incisions.

“Huh,” Daryl said with surprise when she unfolded the paper to reveal the crudely cut snowflake. “Will you look at that? S’pretty neat. I feel cooler already jus’ lookin’ at it.”

Molly beamed at him with bright, excited eyes. 

“You want help hangin’ it on the tree?” he asked her.

“Yes, please.”

“Alright,” he said, turning around. “Hop on.”

The girl climbed eagerly onto his back, and then Daryl carried her piggyback style to the tree.

“It looks just like a winter wonderland!” she exclaimed after she stuck it on an empty branch.

“Sure does,” he agreed, putting her down. “It feel like Christmas yet?”

“Well,” she said, pondering his question, “it could use a little more.”

“Hmm."

“I’m gonna make a star for the top,” she said, running back to the table.

Daryl quietly slipped out of the cell block. Carol was busy chatting and helping Beth make a garland, he thought she hadn’t even noticed. When he returned an hour later, he held his hands behind his back. 

“Where did you run off to?” Carol inquired as she approached him, trying to get a peek at what he was hiding. “Molly was disappointed you weren’t there to help her hang her star. I think she has a crush on you.”

“Pfft,” Daryl said, blushing. “Thought about what you said.” Bringing his hands forward, he revealed the lopsided wreath he had made. The base was formed from a wire coat hanger that he hadn’t quite been able to bend into a circle. “I figure, why settle for paper decorations when you could have the real deal.”

“It’s lovely,” Carol beamed, accepting the gift. 

“Don’t lie,” he snickered. “That’s gotta be the ugliest wreath I’ve ever seen. But I figured you might like it anyway.”

She giggled. “Well, I barely noticed. And like I said, it’s the thought that counts.”

[peletiersdixon]

Thinking about going back to my peletiersdixon url…time to go back to my caryl loving roots…

[youwereneveraslicebitch]

Chocolate fudge cake, strawberry shortcake

chocolate fudge: what song can always make you dance/feel good?

before i let you go by frankie beverly or beyoncé

strawberry shortcake: name 5 of your favorite fictional characters

glenn rhee

dr. sweets

toph beifong

bob newby

okoye

🍰 shop asks

[heartdrift]

You know what I'm saying?

[thereadersmuse]

I never did watch Train to Busan. But I am on Ep 2 of All of Us Are Dead. Not my usual jam but we shall see. In other words, don’t yell at me. Lol.

*muffled screeching*

I desperately want to comment on you not having watched "Train to Busan" but because you are watching "All of us are dead" I feel I need to be grateful and hold my fat ass tongue about it.

ANYWAY- am I proud of you?

[carylerxsecretsanta]

The Longest Night

Written For: mizjoely

Title:  The Longest Night Author: @peletiersdixon Rating:  G Summary:  It’s their first winter on the road, and Daryl brings Carol a token to boost her spirits A/N:  Merry Christmas! Hope you enjoy!!

It was obviously the beginning of winter—the shortest days of the year, nights getting longer and longer, with little sun left to guide them on their runs between makeshift shelters. Winters were milder down south, but the nights still dipped into freezing temperature, and it was a struggle for their ragged little group to find places to try to scrabble together some rest, if not actual sleep.

Carol looked around the rundown convenience store, and pulled the thin blanket she had closer around her shoulders. They were huddled together for warmth, but still clung to their little groups: Rick, Lori, and Carl; Hershel, Beth, Maggie, and Glenn; T-Dog, Daryl, and herself. The three of them were the outsiders, and she did her best to see that Daryl and T didn’t become too ostracized from the rest of them. Daryl was out hunting right now, hoping to find some small animal to supplement their meager stores. T was on watch, so she was left to her own devices and sleep was hard to come by with the cold permeating her bones.

It was close to Christmas, not that anyone was thinking of celebrating holidays anymore. But the time of year, the smell in the air, the cold weather brought all the memories to the forefront. Last year, she and Sophia had sat up on Christmas Eve while Ed had been working the night shift and drank hot chocolate while watching The Muppet’s Christmas Carol. It was the only bit of celebrating they enjoyed. The peace they relished when it was just the two of them.

Her eyes burned from holding back the unshed tears as she sat with the memory. Remembering running her fingers through the soft shiny hair of her little girl and the scent of her green apple shampoo wafting past her nostrils. The feel of her tiny body cuddled up against the side of her mother, burrowing into her warmth. Carol blinked back the stinging sensation and quietly sniffled into the blanket. The ever present ache of Sophia’s absence felt like a hole in Carol’s chest, one she had to sit with and could never ever fill.

She slid down onto the cold floor, head propped on a knapsack, and curled into a tight ball to try to conserve her meager warmth, pulling the blanket tighter around her thin frame. As the night wore on, she drifted off, awakening in fits and starts as cold shivers wracked her body until a warmth drifted over her back. She had the vaguest awareness of two presences surrounding her and felt a wash of safety and security filter through her as she sensed T-Dog switch out with Rick on watch. Through the mingling smells of body odor and sweat, and unwashed clothes mixed with gore and walker guts, she scented the fresh outdoors: clean air and pine trees, and she knew Daryl was back, and had thrown his blanket over her back. Falling back to sleep was much easier after that.

Once morning arrived, she awoke feeling slightly more rested, and sat up, running her hands over her face. Muted light filtered in through the windows spilling over the tiled floors, and illuminating a brown beer bottle sitting next to her on the floor. Her breath caught as she realized what was in the bottle. A Cherokee rose, browning on the edge of the petals and looking so much the worse for wear (probably the last of the season,) sat limply in the bottle.

It wasn’t the flower itself that caused her chest to quake. It was the knowledge that she wasn’t alone in her memories of Sophia. That Carol was seen, and known. That Daryl hadn’t forgotten, wouldn’t forget. She wasn’t sitting solitary in her pain. It was a flower that bloomed for a mother’s tears. And this year, this Christmas, Daryl had sensed she was hurting, and he had taken action, as he was prone to do. Words weren’t his style. But when she looked at that tiny offering, she didn’t need words. She had all she needed.