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jackie. 20. college girl. Jesus. florida. living the life. singer. writer. amateur baker. cook. horrible dancer. artist. fanfiction. glee. finchel. cory montieth. lea michele. music. love. walking dead. daryl dixon. caryl shipper. carol peletier. zombies.

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At work and all I can think about is LouBlue’s fanfiction Echoes and I just wanna cry…

queen-carol:

“According to Kirkman, the fallout of Axel’s death will definitely be a big part of what’s to come on “The Walking Dead,” particularly for Carol. “It’s important to note that sometimes the death on ‘The Walking Dead’ has to be very sudden. That keeps people on their…

I just hope that they don’t do the whole Carol suicides because she thinks everyone she gets close to dies, or that it should have been her instead of Axel. I want her to confront those feelings head on, maybe even with Daryl because he’s going through his own conflicted feelings as well. And if the writers believe she has to die, then make it an honorable death. 

Carol knows deep down he’s coming back.

Do you want to know why? Because all the while Carol is talking to Beth about Daryl having a code, and comparing Ed to Merle she is writing Lil’Asskicker on the side of Judith’s makeshift crib.

The Feels.

Dead.

morphinepudding:

The only thing I can draw right now is post-Woodbury Caryl reunion. So here it is, Back from Woodbury - the Sequel.

Comic: by laceknee

With a sigh Daryl stands, rummaging through his pack to find the last of his long sleeves and goes over to Carol to drape it over her slender frame. Just like before, he sees them. Angry cigarette burns, that are a dull pink now. It churns his stomach when Daryl sees the jagged and raised lines of scars  that litter diagonally across her back. It looked like she was pushed onto broken glass. Some are white, some are mixture of pink and gray—he can’t seem look away.

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Anonymous asked: Carol/Daryl cuddle time before going hunting. :)

The only time they ever truly cuddle is when he has to leave.

 He rubs circles on her flat belly, slowly rousing her from the warm, dark depths of sleep. She opens one eye and giggles when he starts nibbling at her earlobe, knowing that she’s beyond ticklish there. Daryl shushes her, and continues his ministrations on her stomach, content to just hold her like this before dawn fully breaks into morning.

 Carol has other things in mind, and turns her body so that she’s facing him ignoring his grunt of protest. She’s fully shaken the fog of sleep, but her body is beyond exhausted from helping Beth tend to the garden yesterday. Even after months of running and narrowing evading walkers by the skin of her teeth, gardening it’s what tires her out.

 She sees him clearly, all blue eyes, disheveled hair and always present dirt on his skin. There is enough light around them to tell her that it’s just minutes before dawn. He’s wearing his hunting clothes already, and she knows what this means. Daryl is going on a hunting trip with Merle and would be gone for a couple of days. With a sigh she presses a small ‘good morning thank you for waking me up before you go’ kiss on his brow.

 Daryl wraps an arm around her, and tucks his head under her chin to place a little ‘good morning thank you for waking up and with putting up with my shit’ kiss of his own on her throat.

 It’s his favorite spot on her body, his head fits perfectly there and it surprises her on how non-sexual this tradition—if you could call it that, of theirs is.

 They don’t usually do this. Daryl isn’t one for cuddling or touching all the time—not like Maggie or Glenn are anyway. Even in the afterglow of sex, they usually just hold hands and stare at each other with lazy grins before they fall asleep.

 “Think you can hunt a pastrami sandwich for me? I’ve been craving those for so long.” Carol says groggily, a grin spreading across her face when his chest wiggles and a deep chuckle vibrates on her skin.

 “M’sorry, the deli is closed on Sundays.” He murmurs, the little prickly bristles of hair on his upper lip move against her skin as he talks and makes her shiver.

 “Well that’s too bad.” Carol tells him, running hand from his back to his hair. “When are you going to cut this hair of yours?” she asks.

 “What? Ya don’t want me to get a rattail? Me and Merle wanna be all matching and shit. ” He retorts, and she laughs when he pulls away from her staring intently at her with a slight pull of his lips.

 In the back of their minds they know why he is so affectionate with her in the few minutes he has before he leaves. They will never talk about it, it goes without saying. After the way Lori and Rick’s relationship ended the way it did—their hearts can’t handle something like that ever happening to them.

 So they give themselves this normalcy, because if they are ever in any pain, or lost without a way of returning. They will always have these mornings, where there is are laughter, smiles, this warmth that encompasses them with the coming dawn.

 The shuffling echoes of Merle’s feet is what breaks him from his intense stare and Daryl rolls away from her to collect his crossbow and small pack. She sits up too, unwilling to leave the safe and warm confines of the bed they have been sharing for a little over a year.

 Long gone is that lazy grin she adores, he hardens himself for the world outside their little cell.

 He tightens his hold on his crossbow, “Stay safe.” He tells her.

 She grins one more time at him and nods, “Nine lives remember?” she replies.

 He reluctantly leaves then, shouting to his brother in the next cell to hurry his sorry his ass up.

 It’s the closest thing to an ‘I love you’ they’ll ever get. 

Due to the overwhelming amount of messages I’ve received from my last post, I will be starting on It’s Only Teenage Wasteland. However, I would like to have someone beta for me-be my fresh eyes when I make mistakes. :D 

Expect some drabbles coming your way! Sorry in advance if it bothers anyone! :D

Thanks again! I feel so loved here in the Caryl tag!

I have written quite a few daryl/carol little ficlets, thanks to the wonderful prompts that were given to me!  I will be posting those soon! With that said: I am so stuck on two ideas for a multi-chapter fanfiction. However, I can only choose one right now to actually write. 

So Caryl/TWD fans can I have your input?

It’s Only Teenaged Wasteland: Teenager/Young Adult/AU. Era: 1978 NO ZA. In this story,  18 year old Daryl drops out of highschool to help his father’s debt on the house, and pay the lawyer’s fee for Merle’s trial that didn’t go so well. Merle is sentenced to four years in prison for selling/and dealing, leaving Daryl alone for the first time in his life. Daryl works in construction, and his job takes him to a hospital/care center where he meets  20 year old Carol a patient who recently got into a car accident with her drunk and abusive boyfriend.

Filth in My Bones: Season 3/AU. In this turn of events, it’s Daryl and Carol that get captured by the Governor. Carol never went missing, and Merle didn’t go out to track Michonne thinking she died when that group of walkers went through. Instead, a much more dangerous stranger took Daryl and Carol hostage and are subjected to torture. However, they are saved by Merle when he learns that they have held his brother captive. 

So tell me what you guys think? I have all the plot lines written out for both stories already so we’ll just have to see!!! :D

It’s my exam week guys! And whenever I take my break I want to be able to write! Send me some caryl feels/prompts to satiate the madness!!

3x07 is an interesting episode, filled with heartbreaking moments and laying the groundwork for the darkness up ahead. 

On Naming “Little Ass-Kicker” Judith after Carl’s Third Grade Teacher:

Going back to 3x05, when Carl is thinking of names for the baby: he chose names of those who died-horrible deaths at the hand of this apocalyptic world. Sophia, Amy, Jacquie, Patricia, and Lori are reminders of how much this world has taken from them. Naming the baby, something so innocent, untouched by such hardship, shouldn’t be tainted with the memories of such violent deaths. Carl realizes this the moment he spouted off the names of their loved ones, the melancholy on each of the group’s faces is evident. 

Judith is the perfect name because there are no attachments to the dead, and the baby has become a symbol of them pushing forward.

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