#christmas caryl 2017 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theresnosafeharbor4myships · 6 years

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December 25, Christmas Caryl

written for my 2017 Caryl secret santa, @equusgirl Merry Christmas and joyful blessings to you all! (also on 9L)

Falling Like Snow

“Carol?”

The child’s whisper startled her from her lamplight reading, and she turned her head to see Judith padding toward her from the hallway.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“Can’t sleep,” she murmured, rubbing her eyes.

“Come here.” Carol held out the corner of the blanket she’d snuggled under as Judy climbed into her lap. “Let’s get you cozy. Did you have a bad dream?”

The girl leaned her head back against Carol’s shoulder without answering, and she kissed the mussed, fluffy blonde curls.

“What if Daddy and ‘Chonne don’t come back?”

Judy’s soft question in a tearful voice made Carol’s chest ache. “Aw, sweetheart, you mustn’t think about that.” She placed another kiss on the crown of Judith’s head. “They should be back real soon. And while they’re gone, you get to sleep over here…without your brother telling you what to do, right?”

The six-year-old sniffled once, then fortified herself. “Right.”

She squeezed her tightly to herself. “You want a bedtime story?”

Judy nodded, but before Carol could begin a tale, she asked, “Does Daddy love ‘Chonne?”

Carol leaned forward to peer into the girl’s face. “Yes, sweets, he does.” She fluffed the curly, baby-locks away from her face. “Very much.”

“He loved my momma, too?”

“Mmm,” she hummed, an ice pick unexpectedly piercing her heart at the mention of her friend from so long ago. “He did.”

Since finding a semblance of peace in this world of unrest, Carol had tried to keep the past locked away. The others, fraught with the same curse of the memories of Before and those they’d lost along the way, did the same. But Judy didn’t have the hurt of all that had transpired haunting her and sometimes inadvertently scraped at a wound she didn’t know they nursed.

“And now he loves ‘Chonne.”

Carol stayed silent at her statement, memories of time on the road before she’d been born, before they’d found the prison, rushing like a tidal wave into her mind, overflowing her heart: her friendship with Lori that’d had a rocky start but eventually gave way to the first female friendship she’d had since she’d promised herself to a man who didn’t deserve her; laughter and secrets and inside jokes and understanding each other in a way only women could; coordinating motherhood duties and plans for how to raise the kids since the world had died; sharing hopes for a baby not intended for a life of running and concealment and fears about what could—and would—happen if they all didn’t ensure her safety.

“Did you love someone before Daryl?”

The query threw cold water on the warm memories of Lori.

Did she love someone before Daryl? Her ex-husband—brutal, cruel, harsh, unforgiving, bruising, crushing, perverted, and abominable—crept into her thoughts but, long dead in the ground and replaced by a love so pure it caused an ache in her chest, he could hurt her here no more.

“No, sweets. I didn’t love anyone before Daryl.”

“How come?”

Carol nearly laughed at the childishness of the question and how complicated an answer it had. “Because I never met anyone like Daryl Before.”

“He was nice to you? Like Daddy is to ‘Chonne?”

She smiled. How easily simple questions could tug at her heartstrings. “He was really nice to me. Nicer than anyone I ever met before.”

“Like when he gives me piggyback rides and plays hide-and-seek with me and teaches me how to use my slingshot and lets me read my books to him?”

“Kinda like that, yeah.”

“How did you know you loveded him?”

The moment came to her, so easy to recall, a stand-out in the best, and really the only, love story she’d ever had—the one she lived with him on a daily basis.

Carol snuggled deeper into the couch and pulled the blanket up higher around them. “If I tell you, will you try and go back to sleep?”

“Promise,” Judy stated before putting her thumb in her mouth, a habit she only exhibited when she felt exhausted and couldn’t fall asleep.

“’Kay. Well…a while after we came here—”

“’Xandria,” Judy muttered the word around her thumb.

“Yes, Alexandria. It was Christmas.”

“I love Christmas!”

“Mmm, it’s my favorite, too. It started snowing that Christmas and—”

“Snow’s fun.”

“It can be lots of fun. Well, where your Daddy and Michonne and Daryl and I are from, it—”

“Geooogia,” Judy supplied, her G’s sounding muffled.

“Yep, Georgia. It hardly ever snows there. And not like it does here. Here you can build snowmen and snow forts and have snowball fights and you have to shovel it away from the door to get outside. And sometimes Mrs. Pompano loses her white kitty in the snow, remember?”

“Yeah,” Judy hummed sleepily, and Carol lowered her voice as she continued.

“It had snowed a lot and the powder was deep. Your daddy and Michonne were out on a run, just like they are now, and you and Carl were staying with us. I had look-out duty that day, so Daryl was watching you. And when I came home, Daryl was trying to teach you to wade through the snow. You were all bundled up in this big white and pink snow jacket that was too big for you and these cute, pink snow boots with pom poms on the laces. I don’t even know where Daryl found them at. But you both had snow on your bottoms, like you’d plopped down on the ground and stayed a while. Then I saw the little snowman, no bigger than you, and two bottom-prints in the snow, and I realized you had. You’d both sat in the snow, and he’d helped you build a baby snowman.”

“I wike snowmen,” Judy stated. “And Daryl.”

Carol huffed a laugh. “I like Daryl, too.”

“And snowmen?”

She recalled the times she’d made snowmen—with Sophia, Carl and Enid and Tara, Judy and Daryl, Maggie and Junior—and determined it was the company she’d liked the best.

“And sometimes snowmen. Well, you and Daryl had made a baby snowman, and he was holding you up as he taught you how to walk through the snow so you didn’t fall down. Bend your knees—”

“And walk with your feet far apart,” the girl cut her off again. “I ‘member. Daryl makes me practice every snow time.”

“You learned it well! But you were only two when this happened, and he was holding you up as you tried to push through the snow.”

“Did I fall down?”

Carol shook her head, even though Judy couldn’t see her, recalling an image of the past. Daryl, wearing a heavy, black, down coat, bent at the waist, holding a toddling Judith up under her armpits as her little feet tried to shuffle through the fresh, freezing powder.

“Come on, Jude,” he’d encouraged. “You can do it! Bend your knees.” The girl, too young to have really traipsed through the snow the previous year, had a full baby-grin on her face, thrilled to be planted in freezing muck.

She bent her knees, her butt practically sitting on the snow behind her.

“Now, walk with your feet apart. You gotta do it this way so’s you don’t fall down.”

“Like dis?” she queried, shoving one awkward foot forward into the snow bank, nearly losing her balance even as Daryl kept her upright.

“Just like that.”

His voice, as happy and as free from worry as she’d ever heard it, echoed in her memory, the sound seared into her brain. The moment, achingly sweet and tender and unexpected, had pierced her heart so acutely she thought she might double over.

How many times had she wished for the man Before to treat her daughter with an ounce of love and joy? To teach her and guide her with hands that loved and helped heal the aches of the world instead of adding to them? To speak with tenderness and affection to let her know she meant the world to him? To spend time with her without fear that it would somehow emasculate him?

Watching Daryl willingly play in the snow with toddler-Judith, not because he was her father or because he had to but because he wanted to, had sealed her fate: she couldn’t love the man before her any more than she did at that moment.

“No…” she murmured, answering Judy’s question even as she felt lost in the warmth of the memory. “Daryl wouldn’t let you fall down.”

“Did we make more snowmen?”

“Nope. You saw me watching you try to walk through the snow, and you called out to me.”

“Cawol.”

“That’s right.” She kissed the top of Judy’s head. “You squealed, bouncing up and down like you were dancing. And Daryl turned and looked at me, smiling so proudly. He was excited you loved the snow so much. ‘Come on,’ he told you. ‘Let’s show Carol how you can walk through the snow.’ And you both turned toward me, sliding through it just like he taught you: bent at the knees and walking with your feet apart. When you got to me, Daryl lifted you up and you both gave me a big bear-hug.”

Carol fell silent, remembering the look on Daryl’s face as he’d held Judith out to her—carefree, happy, proud, joyful—and the feeling of him, of them both, pressed against her in a welcome-home hug. A longing settled deep in her belly for the family they would’ve been—should’ve been had Sophia not met her end—and the one she knew she’d never have with this man who loved her and Carl and Judith and the rest of them so much.

Sometimes late at night when she couldn’t sleep and the world didn’t feel so oppressive—and sometimes because it did—she’d let herself imagine what having a family with Daryl would have looked like. They’d come home to each other, a safe haven from the ever-increasing pace of the world, and watch their children grow, teaching them how to love by example. She’d learn his favorite foods and teach him how to change diapers. He’d learn the rhythms of her heart and body and show her how love was supposed to be. They’d fight over money and because they both had a stubborn streak a mile wide. But they’d never go a day without thinking they weren’t wanted. Because they knew what that felt like.

With Judith in one arm, she gripped him tightly against her with the other, suddenly overcome with emotions.

“Hey,” he huffed quietly against her, feeling the intense shift of her embrace. “You okay? Everyone okay?”

His concern reached only her ears, and she nodded vigorously. He held her snug against him until she pulled away, then peered into her eyes until she nodded, letting him know he didn’t need to worry.

“Want me to take her up to bed?”

Daryl’s quiet voice startled Carol out of her reverie of that day, and she turned to see him standing next to her, wearing black sweat pants and a dark gray t-shirt. She thought he’d gone to bed hours ago, but it didn’t look like he’d slept.

“Hi,” she whispered, then peered down at Judy, who’d drifted off, her thumb hung limply in her mouth.

“Sure, thanks.”

Daryl kissed the crown of Carol’s head before scooping the sleeping Judy easily into his arms. He hesitated, waiting for her to turn off the light, and she followed him upstairs.

She hung back, watching as he tossed back the bedspread and sheet and ever-so-gently laid Judy down in the spare bedroom, careful not to wake her. By the moonlight filtering in through the window, he tucked the blanket around her small form and up near her chin before kissing her tenderly on the forehead.

Carol’s heart paused, then kicked in overdrive as she realized how blessed she was. Strangely, now, here, when the dead lived and the living ran and kids were a liability and love should’ve been a pipe dream, she’d found the family and affection she’d craved her entire life. A man with a tender heart and gentle hands and fierce loyalty and a fighting spirit. Someone who would defend her when she couldn’t stand up and hold her when the world brought her to her knees. A companion to listen to the emotions she struggled to share and hear her heart when she couldn’t explain. A helpmate to walk through this land of the living dead with. A man whom she could respect and admire and who would show her love in return.

Daryl stepped outside of the bedroom and pulled the door closed to within a few inches. Noting Carol’s stolid expression, he cupped her head, his fingers sliding in to her hair, and kissed her forehead.

“You alright?”

She peered up at him guilelessly and nodded, then clasped his hand and started for their bedroom.

“So…me teachin’ Jude how to walk in the snow…that a love story?”

He pushed the bedroom door open ahead of her, and she entered, letting his hand go to flip on the light. Her mouth slanted up in a half smile. “Eavesdropping, were we?”

“Maybe a little.” He closed the door behind them.

“How long were you standing there?”

“Long enough to know you didn’t love no one before me.”

She sat down on the bed, gripping its edge in both hands, and quirked an eyebrow at him. “You shouldn’t be listening to others’ conversations. Even if it is something you already know.”

“Didn’t know you remembered that day.”

Daryl’s half question, half statement made her pause. “I didn’t know you’d remember that day.”

“Sure. It was Christmas, the first one we celebrated after the war.” He sat comfortably next to her, half turned in her direction. “Carl dragged a tree into all four of our houses and Tara and Rosita and Enid cut those strings of snowmen outta black and white paper. Rick and Michonne were out scoutin’, and you and Carl had watch. Jude kept wantin’ to play with the snowmen, kept takin’ ‘em off the tree. So I bundled her up, and we went out and played in the snow.” He shook his head, a small smile playing on his face. “Thought she’d get cold real fast, but she loved it. Just sat there and wanted to play. Was the first time—”

He stopped abruptly, and she waited as he stared intently at the dark blue bedspread beneath them.

“First time what?” she asked gently when he didn’t continue.

He pulled his eyes up to her. “First time I thought…I coulda been a dad. Maybe even a halfway decent one. That I wouldn’t screw up a kid the way I was.”

“Oh, Daryl.” She slid her hand into his hair and drew him to her, kissing him tenderly. She rested her forehead against his, her eyes closed. “I always thought that.”

He eased away from her. “Always?” he questioned, doubtful.

“Sure, you had some rough edges and a snarky mouth.” She smiled gently. “But I knew they came from a place of hurt. And when you started and lead the search… I always knew.”

She paused, letting the weight of the moment hang between them. The loss of Sophia. The faith she had in him, then and now. The memories of Atlanta and a time before they’d lost—and gained—so much.

He reached for her hand, and she let him intertwine their fingers.

“That day with Judy…I knew I’d fallen in love with you. Just watching you with her, both of you so happy and having a ball playing in the snow. He never did that with Sophia. You did more…are more… I never thought I could love someone so much.”

She watched his eyes sheen over with unshed tears as she spoke, and he gripped her hand tightly, staring at their interlocked hands.

She waited until he looked up at her again. “I love you.”

Throat burning with emotion, Daryl kissed her, hard and deep and with all the tenderness in his heart.

When he slowly pulled away, still rattled by her words, she cupped his face with one hand.

“I love you,” he confessed on a broken whisper.

Carol leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him. “You’re the best man I’ve ever known,” she murmured against his neck. “And you’re a great father-figure. To Carl and Judith, to Enid, to Junior. Don’t ever doubt it.”

He nuzzled into her, kissing her neck sweetly, the cavern of his chest burning with her words and the realization of just how deeply she believed in him. Closing his eyes, he composed himself, then pulled far enough away to peer into her eyes. “That means more to me than I could ever say.”

She gave him a quick peck on the lips. “You don’t have to say anything.”

He nodded slightly, trying to think of a topic that didn’t have to do with him or that would cause him to tear up in front of her.

“Ready for bed? I’m cold.”

Carol gave him the out, and he nodded gratefully. He moved to turn off the light while she flipped on the bedside lamp and slipped under the covers. She waited until he slid into bed behind her before turning off the lamp and snuggling up against him.

“Mmm, forgot to tell ya,” he murmured around the back of her neck as he wrapped his arm around her. “Turns out Christmas is in a few days. Carl saw the calendar Mr. Merkland’s been keepin’ when he took him dinner tonight.”

His voice rumbled against her back where she’d pressed herself into him.

“What do you want for Christmas?”

His soft voice at her ear sent shivers down her frame. “There’s nothing I want that I don’t already have right now,” she murmured honestly. “A warm bed, blankets, food, walls, protection. And the arms of the man I love wrapped around me.”

#caryl #carol x daryl #daryl x carol #christmas caryl #caryl fanfiction #christmas caryl 2017 #my wriring #personal

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afterglowxdbatc13 · 4 years

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Dianna’s Alleged Spotify Playlist: Vivienneday

I’m convinced it’s hers and the songs on the playlist are so Di’s, if you don’t believe it’s okay I’m open to all opinions 🥰

Here are the reasons why I believe it’s her playlist:

Let’s start with the names of the playlist:

I’m going to go ahead and say I think the playlist started back in 2017. She did her first run of Cafe Caryle back in 2017 and the songs she performed are in the playlist and also T 2017 👀 but that’s a different conversation

This video of Dianna singing is from November 21, 2019 at the Cartier event. CARTIER is the name of a playlist. In that playlist it consist of the Christmas songs she sung at that event.

February 2020 she went to a restaurant called American Bar with Kyle Hotchkiss he also follow the spotify account if you look at who follows the acct.

If you have more please add, like I said open to any opinions 😘

#diannaagron #dianna x playlist this is all for fun #swiftgron #gaylor

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carylfanfictionawards · 7 years

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3rd Annual Caryl Fanfiction Awards - Nominations

(All authors must approve that their work(s) can be included before they will show up on the nominations list. So if you don’t see your nominations, I am still waiting on approval. So be patient. If they decline that their work(s) be used, then I will contact you for a replacement nomination.)

Oneshot:

Body of Our Love. by Na Bruma Leve

Santa’s Little Helper by alatarielgildaen

Cold Wave by ThailiaSandy

The Chase by viktories

Two Way Mirror by alatarielgildaen

Georgia by RandomCat

A Crossbow for Christmas by ramblinrose

And My Heart Is Anywhere You Are by untapdtreasure

Topsy Turvy by geektaire

Christmas Bells Are Ringing by krissyg927

Author:

lilabut

foreverlovingdaryldixon

ICanStopAnyTime

silversundown

darylsdiva1

The Readers Muse

geektaire

CharlotteAshmore

krissyg927

Alternate Universe:

Keep Me Warm by ramblinrose

Twice As Nice by alatarielgildaen

Nos Morituri Te Salutamus by alatarielgildaen

The Sunny Side of You & Me by Stephtron312

Shear Coincidence by Lamport

The Artist and the Model by lovesdaryl

Arena by darylsdiva1

Stay Safe by NotLaura

The Serenity Prayer by upsgirl88

Act Nice and Gentle by krissyg927

Fluff:

7th Kiss is Lucky by Phantom

I Liked You First by Na Bruma Leve

Cute Pet Names by Rhinozilla

Polar Vortex by silversundown

The Luck fo the Draw by AxelRocks

The Gift of Giving by Hiatus80

The Long Kiss Goodbye by krissyg927

Romance:

Have Yourself a Smutty Little Christmas by lilabut

The Storm by lilabut

Yes A Heart Will Always Go One Step Too Far by leigh57

Forty One Eggs by ramblinrose

The Odd Couple by silversundown

Denim Dreams by darylsdiva1

Enough for Now by theweaknessinme

Sometimes Love Isn't Enough by krissyg927

Plot:

Hungry Heart by HaloHunter89

Shelter by SamiWammy

This Is Not a Promise (This Is an Oath) by Na Bruma Leve

Chances by ramblinrose

Acrid by The Readers Muse

This Is Who We Are by CarylLover

Just One Line by krissyg927

Angst/Drama:

Claim by Trogdor19

Morning Will Come (My Heart Will Break) by lilabut

Paradise by lifeinpurplestars

Up To Settlin’ (for Bat) by The Readers Muse

Weight by Lynnth2014

Staking Claim by Alamo Girl

Burn It Down and Make Me See (Only Your Love Can Set Me Free) by CharlotteAshmore

Izzie's Rain by krissyg927

Characterization:

The Odd Couple by silversundown

Anger Isn’t a Strong Enough Word (Try Disappointment Instead) by The Readers Muse

Rending the Curtain by ICanStopAnyTime

Dream Catcher by theweaknessinme

A Girl Like You by krissyg927

Multi-Chaptered:

Out In the Cold by Hiatus80

Queen Bitch and the Archer by foreverlovingdaryldixon

You Belong to Me by fandomlifetookmyhandandsaidrun

Collision by silversundown

How Carol Got Her Groove Back by Trogdor19

Across the Universe(s) by Shae

Home Was a Dream by ICanStopAnyTime

Slow Fire Burn by RacerLovesLoopy

His to Protect; Hers to Love by CharlotteAshmore

Ice Tea and Cigarettes by krissyg927

NC-17:

Carol’s Sex Dream by foreverlovingdaryldixon

First Time by foreverlovingdaryldixon

Housewarming by SamiWammy

The Platonic Real Estate Agent by silversundown

Only with You by SophiaCharlotte

Profane by Shipperwolf

Twice As Nice by alatarielgildaen

The Parking Spot by krissyg927

Series:

Illuminate a Heart | A Curious Speck | All Because of You by lilabut

Salt and Stone | Snow Kiss | Fools In the Rain by Fairies Masquerade

Not All Those That Wander Are Lost | Even Darkness Must Pass | Roads Go Ever On | Outtakes | 25 Days of MacDixons by geektaire

Work In Progress:

This Is Now by sienna27

There Are Monsters In the Mirror by Hiatus80

At All Cost by faegal04

Housewarming by SamiWammy

Your True Colors (Shining Through) by Na Bruma Leve

Threshold by ramblinrose

Lucille by mizzieontumblr

311 and a Bottle of Cheap Wine by krissyg927

updated: April 5, 2017 at 2:48 am cst

#caryl #3rd annual caryl fanfiction awards #.nominations

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ao3feed-darylxcarol · 4 years

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Christmas Caryls

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2qLLLWZ

by MichelleDV

My 2015, 2017, 2018, and 2019 Christmas Caryls.

Some chapters have been beta'd, others haven't. I own nothing.

Words: 3381, Chapters: 3/?, Language: English

Fandoms: The Walking Dead (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M

Characters: Daryl Dixon, Carol Peletier, Abraham Ford, Glenn Rhee, Tara Chambler, Carl Grimes, Michonne (Walking Dead), Judith Grimes

Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Carol Peletier, Daryl Dixon & Carol Peletier

Additional Tags: Holidays, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, Romance, Fluff, Comfort, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2qLLLWZ

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #The Walking Dead

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ciaomichaella · 5 years

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#Book 23 in the #18booksin2018 #challenge #Fangirl by #RainbowRowell recommended by @chrissycat84 It was a surprising book for sure in how deeply it delved into the world of #fanfiction 😂 I enjoyed reading it and now want to #read #EleanorandPark even though the author herself described that she knew how tragic that one would be after the first page. Maybe I’m a sucker for pain and a glutton for punishment? Wait, that’s why I’ve started distancing myself from Nicholas Sparks books - it hurt my heart too much to cry through books. Fangirl reminded me of reading the #HarryPotter books, waiting for midnight screenings of the films and releases of the books, and how I used to read fanfics before my show couples became canon - B&B, Caskett, and even Tiva. The last bit of fanfics I used to read were Caryl because I’m such a shipper and consider them my TWD OTP... but it’s been a long time since I last read #fanfiction It’s hard enough carving out time to read actual #books much less fanfics. I knew a few weeks into 2018 that I wasn’t going to get anywhere near the number of books I read in 2017, but I’m trying to finish strong and read at least one more book before the year ends. There’s a Die Hard marathon on IFC today and it’s #Christmas so part of me feels I at least have to watch the first one - it’s one of the best Christmas movies of all time. Luckily I took tomorrow off so I can hopefully read... What are you up to today? Have you seen Aquaman yet? Because you should 😉 Jason Momoa is a great Arthur and was amazing throughout the movie 😍😍😍 #18booksin2018challenge #reading #readers #readersofinstagram #readersgonnaread #MerryChristmas #happyholidays #seasonsgreetings https://www.instagram.com/p/Br0V7aeh3az/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1hte3cnqtue2m

#book #18booksin2018 #challenge #fangirl #rainbowrowell #fanfiction #read #eleanorandpark #harrypotter #books #christmas #18booksin2018challenge #reading #readers #readersofinstagram #readersgonnaread #merrychristmas #happyholidays #seasonsgreetings

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matthewbacker · 7 years

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Interview: Matthew Backer talks being on Cloud Nine with this most complex play (now playing in Sydney!)

JULY 12, 2017 / KAT CZORNIJ

Scandalously funny, thought-provoking and heartbreaking, Cloud Nine is an enduring theatrical masterpiece.

However, after seeing it last week we had some questions… and who better to answer them then someone close to the heart of it all? Cue Matthew Backer, who takes on the dual roles of Joshua and Gerry in the production, and who has managed to dish some of the dirt (literally, not figuratively) on this spectacular play.

Cloud Nine is a bit of a topsy turvy- being incredibly humourous one moment and incredibly dark the next, sometimes both at once. How do you all balance this out on stage?

As cliché as it sounds, I just remind myself that that’s life: incredibly humourous one moment and incredibly dark the next. So once you hold onto the truth of that mammoth notion, it makes it much easier to attack certain moments that on the page might feel like they come out of left field. Caryl Curchill is a playwright who does not provide easy answers to her actors nor her audiences, so you really have to just make sure you’re very, very present in every moment and ride the Churchillian roller-coaster.

Kip Williams makes reference in the program that he only really began to understand what this production of Cloud Nine was going to be talking about once you seven actors started to make it manifest. What were those early discussions like, and how did the play evolve once you started rehearsals?

The marvel and challenge of this script, and a lot of Churchill’s works, is that at first glance of a scene, you mistakenly think, ‘Oh yea, I know what this scene is about. Easy!’ But then the more you rehearse it, the more lost in it you feel, like you’re falling really, really fast, which is exciting and nerve-wracking. So lots of discussions about why a character might be doing what he or she is doing and then just getting up and doing it, throwing yourself in there again and again to figure it out mentally and physically. And then spending a heap of time on your own, fretting and pacing back and forth, anxious that you’re not understanding your character at all and repeatedly sighing, ‘I’m such a crap actor!’. Churchill writes characters that are wanting multiple things at the same time and often wanting almost opposite things in the same moment. Which essentially means she just writes complex human characters. Which consequently means, they’re never easy to play, they should cost you something playing them every time, but gosh they’re the most addictive and most rewarding characters to play.

Without giving too much of the play away for those who have yet to see it (but really should soon!), how do you see the true nature of your first character Joshua? How did you approach the complexity in being cast as “a black servant played by a white man because he wants to be what whites want him to be”?

Safe to say that never in my life did I think I’d be playing a ‘black’ character one day. You just approach it like you would any other character. You think about who they are as a person, what they want etc not what skin colour they are. You can’t play being black, anyway. You just have to endeavour to understand them as much as you can and play that person. Caryl Churchill states that a white man must play Joshua, just as a man must play Betty and a woman must play Edward. This cross-gender and cross-racial casting is important because these characters exist in a world where their inner is screaming to conquer their outer: Betty yearns to be what men want her to be, Edward finds it hard to be a ‘normal’ boy, Joshua wants to be what white men want him to be (a white man). So at the beginning of Act One, I’m not doing anything too complex other than presenting Joshua to be the perfect ‘white’ servant. In Joshua’s mind, he is so good at trying to be a white man for his white family (mainly for his master, Clive) that he has become a white man. Slowly, this is chipped away, bit by bit, until Joshua is forced to choose whether he can truly keep this white façade up forever. So rehearsals were spent mapping these chips and mapping the moments when he might drop the façade and breathe as his former ‘black’ self in this new suffocating Victorian/English world.

And how do you see Joshua’s relation to Gerry, your second character? I found the scene at the swing towards the end of the play to be particularly poignant in linking the two acts.

I guess I connect Joshua and Gerry by their placement on the outer rims of Caryl’s world. Joshua often exists in the background of scenes, cutting a lonesome, silent figure amongst the chaos of Clive’s domain. Gerry too exists on the outer rim of Act Two, often by choice, pushing away intimacy and claiming to enjoy being alone. Not wanting to give too much away, he is also a character that breaks the theatrical rules of the piece and has moments with the audience on his own. So even though they’re two completely different characters, in my heart I feel they’re connected through time and space. The scene you mentioned is with Heather Mitchell’s Betty, and it is a gift, not only because it’s a beautifully written scene but because staring into Heather Mitchell’s eyes every night and getting to act with her is incredible. This scene also connects us back to Act One when Heather as Edward and myself as Joshua share a stolen moment away from the family. Fast forward more than a century, and we’re sharing another stolen moment by the swing.

You get to sing another set of incredible songs in Cloud Nine, what significance do you feel these particular songs gave to the production?

All the songs are in the script. Caryl wrote lyrics for the jolly opening number introducing the audience to the family and to the Cloud Nine song in Act Two. Both songs were then composed by the wondrous Chris Williams. The opening song is great because it sets up the farcical, fun, frenetic mood of Act One and introduces the characters to the audience with a bang and the Cloud Nine song comes at a point in the play when all the characters have had their own personal dark nights of the soul, and it’s a brilliant structural device that shatters the Act apart and allows the characters to collect themselves and venture down new paths. The other songs in the play, Joshua’s Christmas carol In The Bleak Midwinter and Betty’s A Boy’s Best Friend Is His Mother, are songs that Caryl has popped into her play, one could argue, for a number of reasons, from breaking up the Act a bit more, to advancing a character’s story, to throwing a curveball to her actors and audience, the list goes on.

And finally. The dirt floor. How easy is that to clean off between acts?

Let’s just say, scrubbing gloves are my best friend in the shower at interval and our dressing room floor gets nice and brown every night.

Photo credits (c) Daniel Boud

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goingrvway · 7 years

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2017 Travel Plans

Our travels for 2017, as planned, is broken up into three segments. Above is the first segment which will take us as follows:

Over to Deland Florida to see Marcia’s brother Dean and wife Caryl

Up above Jacksonville to see Marcia’s friend Gerry

Up the Georgia and South Carolina coast just because we can

Through the Rocky Mountain National Park just because we can

Up to northern Indiana so that we can visit Marcia’s family there, friends in the Chicago area…we will be in this area for a week or so

Up into Michigan (where we will see more of Marcia’s family) and into Norther

Michigan where our travel will slow up a bit

From Northern Michigan we will decide if we indeed go into Canada as the map shows, or if we stay in the states and not go over into the Dakotas…it will all depend on time. By mid-June I need to be in Little Rock for another annual exam. This is a bit early, but we don’t intend to be near Arkansas again this year, so mid-June is the projected date. It will include a visit in Kansas City with my son Ryan and probably other family I have there…just don’t know if that will be before or after Little Rock. We also want to have some front-end work done on the RV in Little Rock…mainly brakes and boots.

The second leg of our trip will be at very casual pace, especially when we get to Colorado. The map above just shows us going through Colorado, but in reality we will zigzag through parts of the state enjoying the cool Colorado weather, the pretty scenery, and just enjoy the time there. Because some of the roads I hope to take are closed for winter still, Google Maps won’t let me plan a route through them. It is likely that some places will be visited while on day trips…the route will be fine-tuned as we go along. The only time schedule is essentially being in California by late September. Some of what we want to see are as follows:

Rocky Mountain National Park Pike’s Peak & Colorado Springs area Many locations in the Rockies such as Aspen, Glenwood Springs, Vail, Breckenridge and Keystone. We have already visited southwestern Colorado a few years ago. On our way to Utah we will probably end up on highway 40, which means there will be some high elevation involved with our travels since some of the elevations are in the 11,000 foot range. Salt Lake City to see my daughter. We have visited many places in Utah, and Marcia has never been in the Northeastern portion.

The Third part of the trip is the trip home starting the day after Christmas. This trip will need to be a little flexible too since we need to allow for winter weather. Essentially we have to be back in the Condo in Holiday by January 6th for a doctor’s appoint that Marcia has on the 9th, which gives us two extra travel days in case there is bad bad weather along the way. We plan to stop in the Phoenix area for a couple of days and there should be some time built in there to meet up with people who might be in the snowbird region of Q, Yuma, Tucson, etc. Overall I am figuring on another 9,000-10,000 miles, which is far short of the 16,000+ we did last year going to Alaska. Of course, as with all of our travels, plans are made by man…but it is always in God’s hands… via Blogger http://ift.tt/2oQxCVH

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lola-andheruniverse · 5 months

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For you fic recommendations : Another World by That1VT on FanFiction and 9 lives. It is a story of how Daryl and Carol might meet if there was no Za. Cast includes Merle, Rick, Shane, Lori…. One of the first fics I ever read. Also Barriers Within by Icanstopanytime on 9lives. A different twist on Alexandria and our couple. Caryl on.

Hi, @southerncountrygirl! It took me a while to read your recommendations for 'real life' reasons, but I loved both of them. Thank you so much for sending them to me and for all your support this year! Dear fellow caryler, I'm not going to review them in detail because it's Christmas Eve and my family is requesting me. I wish you all a Merry Christmas and I promise lots of especial recs for you all tomorrow. Another World, written by That1VT is posted on 9Lives and FF.net . Summary: What if the ZA never happened? Would Daryl have ever met Carol, Rick, and the others? How might those meetings have occured? Rated: M / Mature Word count: 116452 (56 chapters) Published: November 24, 2017 - COMPLETE In this story Daryl gets saved by Rick and embraced by TF and it's beautiful to see. If you are a fan of The Dixon Family (Carol+Daryl+Sophia+Merle), you'll love this fic. Oh, having Lori admiring Daryl is extremely satisfying. Barriers Within written by Icanstopanytime is also posted on 9Lives and FF.net. Summary: The Saviors have been defeated with the help of some rather peculiar monks. Now, Carol and Daryl will have to find a way to provide for Alexandria and defend it against new enemies. Maybe, along the way, they’ll finally admit their feelings for each other. Rated: M / Mature Word count: 167352 (72 chapters) Published: October 14, 2018 - COMPLETE This author excels on her ZA AUs and this one is not exception. Her OC's are always very interesting. I think this fic has the most caryler wedding of them all. This version of Daryl is much less traumatized, therefore, much funnier.

#caryl #caryl fic recs #your turn sunday #caryl fanfiction #caryl fandom

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theresnosafeharbor4myships · 6 years

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December 10, Christmas Caryl

Daryl has a surprise gift for Carol (also on 9L)

Made For You

It’d been Maggie’s idea to sit around the tree she’d begged him to drag in and sing Christmas carols. Glenn had produced a surprise box of hot chocolate mix, and Carol and Beth were serving the sweet concoction in the sundry mugs they’d collected over the past several months while the other sat huddled in blankets and jackets, warding off the assumedly-December chill.

He’d never admit it to any of them, but this had to be one of the best moments of his life.

Christmas had always been an excuse for Daddy Dixon to drink extra hard, which had left him and Merle to hide out, far away from the reach of their father’s arm. Christmas had never been a celebration for him, never been happy or fun or something to look forward to, not like the kids in school or the girls Merle brought around. He’d always felt glad when it was over so he could at least sleep with a roof over his head, as scary as it was sometimes.

The people he’d known, the ones who’d enjoyed the Christmas season anyway, were some of the greediest he’d ever met. Always wanting more toys or games or sporting equipment or bikes. Even if he’d believed in Santa—which he hadn’t, because Merle had cured him of that fantasy the day he came running home from school with it—he never would have asked for stuff. He’d have asked for his mama back. Or a new dad. Hell, a new family. Someone to wipe away the blood his dad’s fists and belt drew out of him. To help with chores on days he could barely stand because of the broken bones, cramped muscles, or bruised he’d been dealt. Or maybe just someone to hug him on those lonely nights when tears seeped from his eyes under the weight of all the dark secrets his heart held about the truth of his family. His loneliness. His want for something more. His fear he’d never get it. And on some nights his fear for his life.

Of course, he got none of those things—the things that really mattered and would’ve changed his life—while others received toys that would lose their importance in a few weeks.

No, Christmas had never meant anything special to him until now. Until he watched a ragtag group of once-strangers gather in a prison mess hall lit with mismatched candles, sit around an undecorated and withering tree, and sing songs of hope from a world long dead. Smiles on their faces. Love for each other evident on their contented faces. Grateful for the meager meal of squirrel and opossum. Ecstatic over barely-full mugs of hot water and stale chocolate powder.

Here at the end of the world, he’d found his new family, the wish he’d wanted to make but never had for fear of disappointment.

A man he was proud to follow. Two kids and a baby he’d protect with his last breath. Men he could call brothers. Women who were stronger than anyone had ever given them credit for. A father—grandfather to some. And one special woman who made his head swim and his blood boil like lava.

His eyes left the group in front of him and settled on her. She’d given Beth her heavy coat for the night, leaving a threadbare sweater her only protection against the chill of the night. Still, she wore a smile as she handed out the mugs of hot chocolate, eyes twinkling in the faint candlelight as the other sang. She encouraged Beth to sit down as she grabbed the last two mugs.

Unfamiliar with most of the songs, he’d hung back from the others, a part of the festivities but on guard, so he was the last one to receive the cup of warmth.

He stood as she approached, holding out his cup. “Here,” he mumbled, taking his poncho off and slinging it around her shoulders.

“Oh!” he heard her gasp lightly in surprise.

“Too damn cold to be without a jacket,” he reprimanded gently, not wanting to draw everyone’s attention to them.

She turned to face him. “Thank you.”

He took the proffered cup and stared at her, longing to make a move, to pull her close and make sure she stayed warm enough. And let her continue thawing out his heart. She’d chipped away at the frost for months now, with her feathery touches and honest smiles, the flirtations that made him want things with her he’d never wanted with anyone, the trust she placed in him, the value she saw in him. The way she could make him smile and laugh. The way he caught her staring at him sometimes. The boil she set his blood to and the racing of his heart.

The look she was giving him now wasn’t helping any, a sexy mix of gratitude and compassion and—if he didn’t know any better—desire.

She scared the shit out of him.

Lifting the cup and nodding his thanks, he sat back down and watched as she pulled the poncho tighter around herself, snuggling into the fabric warm with his body heat.

She walked behind him, and he only barely refrained from following her with his eyes.

“Thanks for keeping me warm.”

Her unexpected whisper slipped into his ear on a breath, slithered its way to his heart, then lower still, sending his body on high alert, all senses attuned to her.

Her hand rested softly on his shoulder for a brief moment, then trailed across his shoulder blades as she walked away, leaving him frozen in place and wildly aflame.

Did she know what she was doing to him?

She sat between Michonne and Maggie, and they huddled close, even as the caroling continued. She joined in, and he watched her. Laughing with the others. Enthralled by the Christmas cheer. Holding Judy as she was passed around. Whispering with Michonne. And sending him a mixture of heated stares and innocent smiles.

She was driving him mad.

He debated whether to give her the gift he had for her. She’d either love it or hate it. He hoped for the former but with his luck assumed it’d be the latter. Besides, the others weren’t exchanging gifts. Well, except for Glenn and Maggie, but that was to be expected.

But he’d worked damn hard on it. And it was already wrapped and tied up with string. And that’s when he’d lost his nerve. Not while trying to think of a gift she’d like, not while making it, not while coming up empty-handed when searching for wrapping paper only to settle for a brown paper bag and string. No, it was the thought of giving it to her and watching as she unwrapped it and not being entirely sure of the outcome. It had plagued him for days.

The singing suddenly stopped, and Daryl looked up to find everyone still basking in the final notes echoing through the tombs.

“That was beautiful,” Hershel praised, a contented, peaceful expression on his face.

“It was,” Rick agreed, then patted Carl on the back. “’S time for bed now.”

Daryl watched Carol gather the cups and take them to the wash tub as the group dispersed for the night. No one offered to help her. No one thanked her, either.

He knew they appreciated her. And everyone pitched in with the sundry tasks of everyday life. Still…it irked him.

He ambled her way, grabbing for the wash tub just as she went to lift it. “I got it.”

Surprise filled her face. “It’s no problem. I can do it.”

“I know you can. Just let me. I’ll take it outside and the kids can wash ‘em tomorrow. Too cold for you to be out there tonight.”

Her face softened, and before he knew it, her hands settled on his arm, granting her leverage as she stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. With a small smile on her pixie face, she turned and walked into the cell block, leaving him alone.

He sighed, heaved the full wash bin up, and took it outside. After depositing it in their make-shift kitchen, he huffed his way to the watch tower, zipping his jacket all the way up to ward off the cold.

He whistled up to Sasha, and a few seconds later she appeared over the edge of the railing. “You warm enough up there?”

“Got the down blankets and a thermos of tea. And these.” She held up her hands to show off a pair of winter gloves. “I’ll be aright until it’s Glenn’s turn for watch.”

He nodded and waved goodnight, then retreated inside, locking the door behind him. Murmuring and movement came from a few of the cells, but when he climbed the stairs, he saw no light from behind Carol’s cell-curtain.

His heart sunk, but he figured fate had made his decision for him. No gift for Carol tonight. And there’s always tomorrow.

He shuffled to his cell and withdrew the blanket covering the entrance, only to be startled by the face staring back at him. “Shit,” he exhaled, his heart hammering wilding in his chest. “What’re you doin’ in here? Somethin’ wrong?” he asked, suddenly worried.

Carol moved aside as he stepped in, peering around the small cell.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she answered quietly.

“You okay? Why don’t you have a light?” Underneath his concern lay the questions he withheld. Why are you here? In my cell? Alone in the dark? What are you trin’ to do to me?

“I have one.” She flicked a flashlight on. “See?” In the light she offered, he lit the small lantern he kept, then turned to her, his face a question mark she was afraid to answer. “I just…thank you.” His brow furrowed in confusion. “For helping me. Taking care of me.” Though still wrapped around her, she lifted the poncho fabric in one hand to illustrate.

He nodded in response, too afraid to speak. She was ethereal, standing there before him in dim lighting, wrapped in his warmth, eyes pools of…want?

He had to be crazy.

His heart beat faster as they held each others’ gaze. For a moment, he thought he had the courage to lean toward her and touch her lips with his, to show her in a new way what she meant to him.

But fear seized him again, and he cleared his throat, breaking the spell.

“I, uh…” He cleared his throat again, forcing his heart back into place. “I got this for ya.”

He moved around her and pulled the crudely wrapped package from the foot of his bed, holding it out to her. He felt her eyes on him, but he stared at the small gift in his hand until she took it from him. Her soft fingers slid over his callused ones and sent sparks through his blood.

It was too late to take it back now, yet that’s exactly what he wanted to do. To erase the possibility of her wrath or discontentment.

He feared the worst.

“Daryl,” she breathed. “I…”

“You gonna open it?” he asked nervously.

He finally met her gaze, and this time there was no mistake. The heat was there.

A greater height to fall from if she didn’t like it.

“Yes.” She untied the string as if it were the finest ribbon, then unrolled the crinkled brown paper to find a wooden figure small enough to fit in the palm of her hand. She turned to the light and held it up to get a good look, gasping in response.

Daryl’s heart froze, and he instantly threw up the walls he kept at the ready. She hated it. Probably wouldn’t speak to him for a month. And rightly so. What’d he been thinking? It was too painful. Why would she want to keep it?

She turned slowly back to him, and he prepared for the verbal onslaught, knowing he deserved it.

“Daryl…” she whispered.

She didn’t sound mad.

“Did you make this?”

She sounded stunned. In awe. Surprised.

He shuffled where he stood. “Yeah…”

She plopped down onto his bed, eyes never leaving the figurine in her reverent palms, even as the poncho slipped askew and fell from one shoulder.

He eased down next to her, hesitant and entirely unsure of her thoughts. “If…you don’t’ like it—”

“No!” She accompanied her protest with a hand to his arm, and even through his jacket, he could feel the heat from her touch. “No. It’s stunning. It’s perfect. So much like her.”

They both stared at the pine-whittled rendering of Sophia, eternally captured in her rainbow t-shirt and pants rolled up to just under her knees, a doll tucked under her left arm. Her cherubic face peered back at them, a knowing but sweet, innocent girl-smile on her face.

“How’d you learn to do this?” Carol wondered in awe.

He couldn’t meet her eyes, instead giving a one-shouldered shrug. “My grandpa taught me a few things when I was a kid. And I spent a lotta hours out in the woods with nuthin’ to do. Got kinda good.”

“Kinda good?” she repeated. “This is…I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s amazing. And you…” Her voice cracked and she paused. “…you made this for me?”

He’d imagined this moment many times with various endings, and she hadn’t cried in a single one of those. But damn if she didn’t look sweetly kissable right now. His poncho hanging half off of her, face lit by soft lantern-light, sitting on his bed, and staring up at him with jeweled starbursts in her eyes.

He swallowed hard. “Just…wanted you to have something…and I thought…” He shrugged, at a loss for words.

The hand that’d stayed on his arm slid up over his bicep and into his frazzled hair.

She was setting him on fire. She’d been dousing him with lighter fluid for months, sparking him with flirtations and sensual glances and companionship and just…being. But now she’d thrown the lit match on the tinder of his heart. And body.

She was touching him. Her fingers easing back and forth against his scalp in a sensual rhythm he was helpless to ignore. His eyes closed, and he inadvertently leaned into her touch.

Before he knew what was happening, he felt her breath whisper across his cheek. “Thank you.”

He let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding as she kissed his cheek.

So close.

She lingered, and something heady rose up in him. “You missed.”

He didn’t know he was going to speak until he heard his words with his own ears.

“I did?”

Her whisper sent shivers through him. He could only hope she was having a similar reaction or he’d never be able to face her again.

Though terrified, he made himself turn to her and was shocked to find her as mesmerized by him as he was by her.

His eyes flicked to her lips, and he inched towards her. “Yeah…you did,” he murmured just before touching her smiling lips with his trembling ones.

He’d kissed a small number of women, but not a one of them set fireworks off in his brain or his heart to beating like a bass drum. Any second now, he knew she’d shove him away and things would never be the same between them again. But for this moment, he let the tender tide of awe and wonder drag him blissfully under her spell.

She was so soft, her lips moving with his in a simple but erotic rhythm. He felt more than heard her moan, causing one to escape from him. She moved her hand to cup his head, and then her body was pressed to his side, her chest against his arm, her hip against his, her other hand flat against his chest.

Far too soon, she was withdrawing from him, but he was much too enamored to move, let alone prepare for the coming reprimand he expected.

“No one’s ever made…that was the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

He opened his eyes and met her gaze. She wasn’t angry or disgusted or running. She was here. Thanking him.

“Me, too,” he admitted.

Though he hadn’t meant it to be funny, she dropped her head onto his shoulder, chuckling in embarrassment.

A second later, she picked up the whittled figure of Sophia from the bed where she’d laid it and raised her head.

“Thank you. For…caring. This is better than a picture.”

He cupped her face with his hand, his thumb brushing gently over her cheek. “Merry Christmas, Carol.”

With happy tears in her eyes and a loving smile on her face, she responded. “Merry Christmas, Daryl.”

#caryl #carol x daryl #daryl x carol #christmas caryl #caryl fanfiction #christmas caryl 2017 #caryl fanfic #personal

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theresnosafeharbor4myships · 6 years

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December 22, Christmas Caryl

written for my 2015 Secret Santa, this is the only smut story I’ve ever written : |

On Top

During the two months they’d shared a bed, Carol had never initiated intimacy. She shied away from making the first move, even when he could tell she was hot and bothered and aching for his touch. They’d briefly discussed it once, after the heat of the moment when their skin was cooling, intimacy and emotions were high, walls were low, and tongues were languidly loose. She’d told him the things he’d always feared were true: her previous experiences were riddled with the bullet holes of rejection, humiliation, pain, and force that had effectively murdered her sexual prowess and confidence like a bulls-eye used for target practice. He’d apologized, encouraged her, assured her he’d always want her and never diminish her, her sexuality, or her desires. She knew this, of course, but explained she didn’t know if she could ever…be free…that way again. Her admission pained him so much—and he knew the ache was raw in her, too—he dropped the subject, instead choosing to imbue her with his love through kisses, the soothing rub of his hand on her back as she drifted off, and whispers that he was more than grateful for what she already allowed him—him!—to experience with her.

That didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy making love with him. He made sure she had her pleasure, and their quiet moments, whether heated, languorous, animalistic, or passionate, were punctuated by her breaths and groans, gasps and moans of approval, and the occasional whimper of “more” or “yes” or “Daryl,” the last one often sending him into a frenzy, which usually benefited them both.

So when she entered the bedroom, locked the door behind her, and determinedly strode toward him, he shot up from his seat, afraid something was wrong.

“What’s goin’ on?” he queried just as she reached him and threaded her hands through his hair, pulling him down to kiss her.

She was already feverish, her tongue teasing his until he snapped out of his stupor of surprise, matched her fever pitch, and slid his tongue into her mouth. Where she promptly suctioned it as though she could pull his soul out through his mouth.

When he could no longer breathe—and to ensure she was alright—he pulled away, staring down at her with wonder and concern. “You okay?”

“Shhh,” she demanded with a finger to his lips, her eyes heated.

He recognized the look, but she’d never been so brazen.

He was suddenly so turned on he could barely stand, his blood pounding furiously. He moved his head and enveloped her finger in his mouth, sucking gently but forcefully, his eyes never leaving hers.

Her lips turned up in a sultry smile, and he was helpless.

She slowly withdrew her finger and he let her, sucking until she withdrew it with soft ‘pop.’

Her hands went to his wrists and slid slowly up his bare arms, her touch lingering at his biceps. She bit her bottom lip as she stared longingly at his musculature, and he wondered why it wasn’t his teeth working her lip.

She cupped his shoulders, and though he ached to reach for her, he withheld, letting her have control. Her eyes met his as she reached for the buttons on his shirt, slowly easing each one from its buttonhole. His breathing kicked up, but he didn’t move, content to let her have her way with him.

Her hands slipped inside his shirt, first settling on his hips, then teasing over his stomach, sending his ab—and lower—muscles twitching in response. His eyes dropped closed, and he concentrated on the feel of her hands on his bare skin, unprompted, in control. He didn’t know what’d gotten in to her, but he liked it.

Moving from his sides to the center of his stomach then back again, her hands zigzagged their way up his body, achingly slow and sensual, her touch driving him mad. His skin burned where she touched him, stoking the fire she’d started, her fingers light and teasing and explorative. Finally, she reached his shoulders, and she pushed the shirt off of him. He felt her lips press a kiss above his heart, and then he sucked in a breath as she started undoing his pants.

He forced himself to stand still, but he opened his eyes to see her staring up at him expectantly, a smile tugging at her lips, her face mere inches from his as her fingers dragged his zipper down.

With fire in her eyes and hands as soft as satin, she was going to kill him.

He anticipated the loss of his pants, ached for it actually, but instead one hand slid up his bare chest and with gentle pressure from her fingertips she guided him back to the bed. He plopped down, but she still pushed gently, so he lay back, splayed before her.

Carol’s eyes roamed his body freely for a moment, then she reached for the hem of her shirt and discarded it. He stared at the red scrap of lace cupping her, the color matching the fire she’d set in his blood. He wanted to hurry the process along, just reach for her and drag her on top of him, but she bent over him, giving him ample view of her breasts as she tugged on his pants and briefs. He moaned on an exhale and lifted his hips, and she slid the material down his legs, dropping it on the floor. She stood before him, looking accomplished and aroused and entirely too clothed for his liking.

He lay prone, a little self-conscious to be lying before her completely naked and aroused, without her next to him enjoying the experience. But if the look on her face was any indication, she was still very much involved. And excited. She stared at him, and he watched as she slowly undid her own pants and slid them off to reveal matching red lace panties.

“Damn,” he mumbled, breaking his own rule of silence. A Carol in control and a strip tease? He hoped she hurried, or he wasn’t gonna make it much longer.

Whether she read his thoughts or not, she smiled at him, a vixen in red, and slipped the red fabric down her legs. She took the few small steps toward the bed, and he swallowed hard, hot and ready for her, every inch of her a tease to his heightened senses.

She moved until she straddled his thighs. He struggled for thought, words, hell, even breath. She’d never taken control or guided him or even been on top. He was so hot and hard for her he thought it might be over before it’d begun.

“This okay?” she asked, sounding sultry and aroused and hesitant all at once.

“Hell yeah,” he breathed. “Please don’t stop now.”

With her cool hands on his chest, she moved further up his body. Painfully slow. Pleasantly hot. He swallowed a moan and watched her, her eyes simultaneously rolling back and closing as she settled over him, and he knew if she moved too fast it’d be over. Lucky for them, she was in a languorous mood and took her sweet time adjusting to the pleasure, which gave him time to ensure it’d last.

He stared at the woman above him. Smart, sensual, sweet, self-sacrificing, brave, and in love with him.

His heart pounded thunderously at the thought, and he ached to make her feel half as loved and fulfilled as she’d made him feel.

Leaning up slightly, he reached around her and attempted to relieve her of her bra. She smiled at his fumbling and gently pushed at his chest again until he fell back.

She reached behind her back, effectively pushing her chest toward him and unsnapped the sexy lace concealing her. Achingly slow, she dragged the straps down, teasing him, herself, until she threw the bra aside.

He reached for her and she started to move, both of them gasping and moaning at the friction.

He whispered love to her, encouraging her, and she moved faster. His hands roamed her body, up and down her back, resting on her hips as she moved, massaging her breasts, running from her thighs to her butt and up her back again. He couldn’t get enough.

She moved, frenzied, and he helped her, both of them wound up tight until she moaned out his name on a guttural cry. With her hands on his chest and her groans of satisfaction egging him on, he found his release, and she collapsed against him, sated and spent.

After a few moments, she raised her head and met his eyes, her cheeks flushed red.

“Hi!” he said with a deep grin on his face.

“Hi,” she responded, sheepishly moving off of him.

“Don’t go,” he whined, though he knew she wasn’t leaving. “Arrr,” he growled.

She pulled the blanket at the foot of the bed up and over them, then snuggled against his side. He draped his arm around her, pecking a quick kiss on her head.

They lay in silence for a few moments, heartbeats slowing, skin cooling, until he felt he had to say something, anything, to let her know how…amazing she’d been.

“That was…” he drawled slowly.

“Unusual,” she supplied self-consciously.

“Hot,” he countered.

“Not me—out of character,” she murmured, a bit ashamed.

“Sexy as hell.”

“Scary but…fun.”

“Damn good,” he complimented.

“Maybe some time…”

“We gotta do that…”

“Again,” they said in unison.

She smiled and looked up at him, and he kissed her long and deep.

“So sexy,” he murmured. “You alright?”

She nodded. “Don’t know what got into me.”

“Me,” he supplied cheekily.

She buried her face in his side. “Before that.”

“Don’t matter. I liked it. Did you?”

“Yeah. It was good…hot.”

“So I can expect more from my lady in red?”

“Mmm…maybe. Depends how good you are,” she teased.

“Wait, so I gotta be good? Or bad?”

“Seems you’re a little of both.”

“You complainin’?”

“Not even a little,” she sighed, closing her eyes.

“Ego’s happy to hear that.”

She huffed a laugh. “Heaven knows we’ve got to feed that.”

“He’ll be ready again in a little bit. Just make sure you stay right here.” He emphasized the request with a slide of his hand from her shoulder to her curve of her hip, and he tugged her into him.

“We’ll see... I may decide to go top-side again.”

#caryl fanfiction #carol x daryl #daryl x carol #christmas caryl 2017 #christmas caryl #personal

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theresnosafeharbor4myships · 6 years

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I received the prompt “mistletoe.” Hope you enjoy this one. (also on 9L)

Mistletoed

Michonne had come up with the idea for the Christmas party, but they’d decided to host it at Carol’s—quite possibly the worst idea Carol had ever agreed to. Not only had Michonne become a grumpy Christmas elf, what with her decorating requirements, must-have food list, and jolly music selection, but her constant badgering nearly had Carol climbing the walls.

Carol had helped scrounge for the holly and tinsel and baubles and ornaments for the big tree they’d asked Rick and Carl to cut down, the garland and lights, sweet-smelling candles, and other Christmas accoutrements, and nearly every house in Alexandria had contributed. Carol had graciously taken control of the menu, fulfilling her promise to ensure all items would make an appearance, regardless of how many substitutions it took to make it happen. She’d even assisted Michonne with the playlist, arranging the songs just so in order to keep the atmosphere jolly and bright.

Throughout it all, she’d kept her cool, letting Michonne freak and flip out over every minute detail. But now, with everything set and tinsel hung and carols playing and drinks bubbling, Carol could absolutely not stand another second of her friend’s company. And all because of one twig of mistletoe.

Just as they’d headed for the stairs to go get dressed, Carl had come blasting into the house, excitedly dangling the festive branch in front of him. “Look what I found!”

He’d proudly held it out to Michonne, who’d hugged and thanked him, then shooed him out of the house to go get cleaned up in time for the party.

And that’s when it started.

“Make sure you stand under the mistletoe, and I’ll send Daryl your way,” Michonne teased cheekily as she hung the vine above the front door.

Carol smiled indulgently, never letting her guard slip, and shook her head. But the thought of Daryl kissing her under the mistletoe—passionately, deep, soft, and sensuous—settled in her mind, making her hot with hopes of what would never be. A dream if she’d ever had one.

Michonne teased her as they climbed the stairs but, due to years of practice, she ignored the jibes.

She’d never admitted to anyone her feelings for Daryl—though she knew she writ it fantastically large whenever he came around. And she thought the same of was true of him. She didn’t have to wonder where Michonne got the idea from: they were homing beacons for one another and lit up like spotlights in a black hole when in each others’ orbit.

Still, neither Michonne nor anyone else had never mentioned it or badgered them about it, but the woman was on a roll tonight, and Carol ducked into her room to get dressed, thankful for a reprieve from Michonne’s good-natured, if annoying, jokes.

Carol had donned the sleeveless black dress she’d found and checked herself in the mirror, making sure the plunging, surspliced bodice covered the ladies properly. Faux pearl-drop diamond earrings and a delicate necklace completed the simple but elegant look she sought, and she applied a swipe of lipstick to her mouth before heading downstairs.

She’d made a final round of the house to ensure everything sat in its place and started receiving guests before Michonne waltzed down the stairs looking like a movie star in her skin-tight, powder blue halter dress.

The party had gone well from there—mostly. The guests, a few whose names Carol couldn’t remember, danced and talked and laughed and played games and drank and sang and had a merry time. It seemed all of Alexandria had turned out for the party—but why shouldn’t they? The community was small enough, and they all deserved what happiness they could grasp, especially her family who spent the majority of their time protecting and pilfering supplies for the place.

But she hadn’t seen Daryl until about a half hour ago. She would’ve noticed his arrival on any given day, but she felt especially attuned to him tonight, thanks in no small part to Michonne’s teasing and her own fantasies of making out with him under the mistletoe, standing pressed against the wall of his muscular chest, his strong arms wrapped around her, and his hair in her hands, the crowd of onlookers staring, with jaws dropped, at them finally getting down to it be damned.

And damn Michonne for tempting the usually repressed idea into the forefront of her brain when she least needed it. Every time she passed by, she’d whisper some jolly little trifle in Carol’s ear. “Mistletoe kisses will make you a missus” and “It’s time to mistle his toes” and “What happens under the mistletoe, stays under the mistletoe” and “Use the mistletoe to start being naughty, and save Santa the trip.” She hadn’t let up all night. One more prod about the damn plant and she’d shove the prickly parts where the sun didn’t shine.

Daryl had stayed on the perimeter of the room, engaging in small talk with whoever stood around, but he hadn’t gone near the dancing. Somehow they hadn’t crossed paths yet, and she wondered briefly if he was avoiding her on purpose, though she couldn’t fathom why.

No, more likely it had to do with her hosting duties. She’d had to clean up after the kids, who’d smashed food into the carpet and spilled drinks on the kitchen floor, keep the ice bowl full and the drinks coming from the fridge, and even wash some silverware when they’d run out.

Overall though, she’d had fun, mingling with her friends and strangers, singing along with some of her favorite Christmas tunes, downing a couple of glasses of wine, and even snagging a quick dance with Carl as Rick and Michonne cheered them on.

But her heart sunk in her chest as people started to leave and she still hadn’t had a chance to talk to Daryl. She’d followed him with her gaze all night, admiring his broad shoulders, toned arms, and tapered waist in a black Henley. He kept his hair, overgrown but not shaggy, out of his eyes, and she’d noticed he’d dropped his guard a bit, enjoying a beer and some chuckles with their family.

She loved this side of him: the easy-going, pleasant, unwounded man at ease. She didn’t often see him like that, though he allowed her that view more than most others.

He’d caught her eye a time or two and given her that lazy half-smile of his and nodded but hadn’t tracked her down. Some hunter, she thought only slightly amused.

The house had nearly emptied out, and she started to clean up the mess left behind.

“Oh, Carol, can you help me?”

She turned to the foyer where Mrs. Parker stood holding her squirming, 9-month old son Jason, who refused to let her bundle him up.

Carol set down the cups she’d gathered and took the baby’s puffy jacket from Mrs. Parker, holding it up as the woman stuffed her baby’s arms inside. She zipped the jacket up for her and chucked Jason under the chin as they left, sending them off with a quick wave before closing the door behind them.

She turned back to the room, ready to clean, and stopped at the wall of man in front of her.

“Hi,” she chirped a little too enthusiastically, feeling nervous now that Daryl stood in front of her after nursing daydreams of kissing him all night.

“Hey. You done good…party was fun.”

“Yeah? You had a good time?”

“’Course. Wanted to talk to you, but I saw how busy everyone kept you.”

“Hosting duties,” she shrugged it off, wondering why she felt so childish. She’d harbored feelings for this man for years now, and she’d never felt like a bumbling fool in front of him before. It was that cursed—

“Aw, you two are standing under the mistletoe!” Michonne gushed just as the realization occurred to Carol.

Carol closed her eyes briefly when Daryl looked above them to see the hanging plant.

“You gotta kiss.”

Carol sent a glare to Michonne that she hoped conveyed a vehement ‘shut up!’ as Daryl looked down at the ground and shuffled his feet.

“It’s tradition.”

“It’s okay,” Carol started to brush off the suggestion, not wanting Daryl to feel like he had to kiss her. She’d rather live with only dreams of what it would feel like than to have those dreams replaced by the reality of becoming a charity case.

“And Christmas,” Michonne urged. “Come on, it’s not a big deal. I’ll come over there and stand under it with you, Daryl.”

“Nah,” Daryl brushed her off with an accompanying wave of his hand. “You got Rick for that.”

He set his gaze on Carol, and she peered up at him, his face tinged pink. Her heart thundered wildly at the intensity of the moment, and the room suddenly felt like an inferno.

He swallowed hard. “Is it alright?” he mumbled, anticipation and fear evident in his voice.

Her knees nearly gave out as he asked for permission to kiss her. Permission. No man had ever…

“Yes,” she answered on a breath, goosebumps already racing down her arms.

It was really going to happen. He was going to kiss her. And not just kiss her: he’d asked to kiss her. Gentle but unsure, strong but afraid, the only man she could ever remember making her feel so hot and bothered and attractive without ever having touched her had just asked if he could kiss her.

She willed herself not to tear up.

She drank in his piercing eyes, the nervousness on his face, the column of his neck, the breadth of his shoulders. She thought her heart would beat a rhythm right out of her chest at the pregnant moment, wondering if he’d go through with it or not.

Finally, he drew close to her, his eyes on hers until they dipped down briefly to her mouth, and she couldn’t help licking her lips in anticipation. She swallowed hard at the flash of lust she saw in his eyes.

He gazed at her, and then time both sped up and froze as he leaned toward her, his eyes once again dropping to her lips before they slid shut.

Her eyes closed just as his lips softly, hesitantly pressed against hers, and she thought she must be dreaming. Heat emanated from the wall of his body in front of her. He moved his lips, and she followed suit, finding a tentative rhythm that sent chills up her spine and heat to her core.

He moved just a fraction away from her to whisper her name against her lips before he kissed her again, deeply and more intense this time. His left arm snaked around her, pulling her slowly into him until she stood flush against him, and he set his right hand against the wall at her back to hold himself up.

Carol’s hands splayed across his back, both feeling the muscles she’d spent so much time staring at and holding him to her,as he awakened sensations throughout her body she’d thought long-dead. She heard a moan, and she realized it had come from her when he responded with his own.

Daryl moved into her, and she felt the wall at her back, glad to have something other than her weak knees to support her. He pulled away only far enough to stare into her eyes, and she saw the same look of heat and wonder that she knew covered her face. She nodded, a small smile playing at her lips. One side of his mouth tilted up in response before he hungrily kissed her again, causing her to gasp before she greedily settled into his kiss.

Michonne stared gaping at her friends, wrapped up in each other, making out for all the world like they were alone.

“Wow, I’m impressed,” she stated, both surprised and amused.

They didn’t hear her.

“Well….I suppose I’ll…just be heading out then…” she explained, the smirk receding from her face as she realized they had no intention of stopping. “I’m just…gonna…” She pointed unnecessarily at the back door, retreating from the lovebirds.

She saw Carol’s hand move out of the corner of her eye, but before she could determine if she waved or flipped her the bird, her hands were back in Daryl’s hair.

Michonne made a hasty retreat, shutting off the lights as she went, a devilish smile on her face at having instigated the best gift those two would receive in a lifetime: each other.

#caryl #carol x daryl #daryl x carol #caryl fanfiction #christmas caryl #christmas caryl 2017 #my writing #caryl fanfic #personal

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theresnosafeharbor4myships · 6 years

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December 23, Christmas Caryl

snows days! (also on 9L)

“I don’t think it’s letting up anytime soon,” Carol said gently.

He let the curtain fall back over the window and plopped down on the couch he’d just been kneeling on.

“You don’t want to stay cooped up here with me?” she teased.

“You know it ain’t that.”

She disappeared into the kitchen for a few moments, returning with a steaming mug in each hand. “Here.” She held one out to him. “Black with a splash of rum, just the way you like it.”

“Better if it were straight rum,” he grumbled.

She hid her smile behind her mug as she sipped her rum-less coffee.

Tucking her legs up under her, Carol sat at the end of the couch, back against the armrest. “It’s too cold out. You and Aaron wouldn’t’ve had any luck; anyone out there will be looking for shelter. Or already tucked in tight. I’d rather have you safe,” she admitted quietly.

“Ain’t used to this. I never been outside’a Georgia til…you know.”

“Yeah… Georgia was home,” she agreed wistfully. “But I was in upstate New York once during a winter storm. That was a sight…”

His eyes widened in surprise as he looked at her, waiting for her to continue.

“It was only for a few weeks, but winters can be brutal. Sophia was…nine. Ed had kicked us out. I thought I was finally free. This lady at church gave me enough money to get Sophia and me to my cousin’s in a little town near LakeOntario, but…eventually he came to get us.” Her voice had gone monotone, but it suddenly brightened. “We had a few adventurous days, though.”

“How so?” he wondered.

“I’d drive my cousin Ralph to work each day, then Sophia and I would explore. One day was the Lake, the next a museum and the library. It was cold, but Sophia liked bundling up all cozy.” Carol smiled at the memory. “Said it was like being a burrito.

“Anyway, a few days before we left, we got stuck in some bad weather. I’d just dropped Ralph off at work, and we were headed to the thrift store. We knew a storm was coming, and I wanted to get some games—cards, maybe, or a puzzle—and some hot chocolate from the store to keep busy while cooped up in the house. We didn’t have that kind of freedom at home.

“But the storm moved in quickly and before we made it to the store, the roads were slick with sleet. I’d never driven in anything like that before. We were crawling along. Sophia was so excited to watch the snow fall. And I was terrified to drive in it,” she chuckled. “But I didn’t want her to know. So we started humming Christmas songs—mainly to keep my nerves in check—when the car slid straight into a ditch.”

“What’d you do?”

He sat riveted by her, imagining her on her own with Sophia. Brave and loving but frightened. In a foreign place with inclement weather. What she called an adventure. Playing it cool for Sophia’s sake and powering through her fear.

She was amazing.

“I couldn’t get the car out of the ditch. The tires just spun, and I didn’t have a phone. I knew we’d be there for a while, but I didn’t want Sophia to worry. Ralph kept emergency supplies in the trunk, and we needed to keep the interior as warm as possible, so we climbed over the seats and popped the back seat down. We grabbed the blankets and water, the snack bars and the atlas. And we made a blanket-fort in the backseat. We spent a few hours looking through the atlas, planning adventures we wanted to have. Imagining all the things we’d see, the places we’d go. Flipping our way through the country. I’d never seen her so happy. She…we…blossomed when we weren’t around him.”

Though she stared at the floor, lost in a memory, he nodded briefly. “You did,” he agreed quietly after a few moments had passed.

She looked at him and smiled gently.

“How’d you get outta the ditch?” he wondered.

“The storm was bad, and Ralph’s boss let them leave mid-day. He bummed a ride from a colleague when we didn’t answer the phone at home. They saw the car on the way home and picked us up. It ended up being way more fun than I ever imagined being stranded would’ve been.”

Daryl didn’t know what to say. He wanted to tell her she was a good mother. That she deserved better than what life had given her. That if the world wasn’t a hellhole, if he could right it, he’d make sure she lived out every last one of those adventures she and Sophia had dreamed out. In Sophia’s honor. He’d drive her his damn self.

But all they had was now. This moment. Together.

Trapped by a storm. Nowhere to go. Nothing they had to do.

Maybe he could—

“So, you see? It’s not so bad being stuck with me,” she beamed.

He stared intently at her, drinking in the sight of her. Relaxed. Out of those god-awful soccer mom clothes and in a pair of dark blue plaid pajama pants and an oversized gray sweatshirt. Holding her coffe mug close to her chest. Feet sheathed in fuzzy white socks peeking out from under her.

Beautiful.

“Not bad at all,” he breathed, in awe of her.

“You up for a snow-day game?” she asked with a grin, oblivious.

He was up for anything with her. “Let’s do it.”

#caryl #christmas caryl #carol x daryl #daryl x carol #christmas caryl 2017 #personal

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theresnosafeharbor4myships · 6 years

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December 19, Christmas Caryl

Carol leaves Daryl love notes (also on 9L)

Notes So Naughty

Daryl found the first note in the small pocket in the front of his pack. If kisses were snowflakes, I’d send you a blizzard.

He felt his cheeks warm and quickly glanced around at Tara, Rosita, Aaron, and Rick, none of whom had paid any attention to him and Carol’s surprise little love note. With a barely-concealed smirk, he stuffed the note in the bottom of the pocket and pulled out a handful of bullets to fill up his handgun.

The next note he found sheathed the bottle of water he grabbed from the bottom of his pack, a rubber band holding it in place. If I had a snowflake for every time I thought of you, we’d have a really white Christmas.

He shook his head, amused and trying to hide it, then gulped the water before slipping the note off the bottle and shoving it in the front pocket with the first one.

He discovered five more, each one increasingly provocative, during the overnight excursion that lasted entirely too long, thanks to her game. Somehow she’d slipped I’m pretty sure you won’t find us on the nice list into his back pocket. He found I like your Christmas balls, with a small drawing of Christmas ornaments, laying inside the lunch bag she’d packed for him—and he’d choked on his sandwich until tears filled his eyes. He found The only package I want this Christmas is yours rolled up around the beef jerky. She’d tucked All I want for Christmas is you…naked inside his sleeping roll. And he found Let me be your Christmas present. Hurry home, and I’ll let you unwrap me as fast or as slow as you want. inside his clean pair of socks.

Anticipation had grown stronger the closer he’d gotten to the gates, and now that he passed through them, it took every ounce of willpower and shred of dignity he possessed not to run through the streets like a madman to their house. After all, he’d only left the compound yesterday, and he didn’t need the busybodies of Alexandria whispering about him or Carol.

Each step felt like an eternity, but he finally bounded up the porch and threw open the front door. “Carol!” he hollered, shutting the door behind him and dropping his belongings on the floor.

Her face peeked around the corner, mischief written on her face. “Yes?”

“I hurried home,” he pronounced, feeling silly as soon as the words left his lips.

“Mmm,” she hummed, finally emerging from her hiding place around the corner and causing his mouth to go dry. “You certainly did.”

She stood with a large blanket wrapped around her shoulders, her hands grasping the edges to her, leaving a gap from toes to mid-thigh where he could see her bare legs and a wide V that plunged from her neck to mid-rib cage, exposing the center of her chest. Her bare chest. She was—

“Fast or slow,” she purred when he didn’t say anything, quite aware of the effect she had on him. “Just like I promised.”

His stared at her briefly before his eyes drifted slowly down her strategically-wrapped body. “That was a cruel game to play,” he finally stated softly, slowly stalking towards her. “And you weren’t around to finish it.”

He stopped just in front of her, and she peered up at him seductively. “I am now.”

“Mmmm,” he hummed in agreement. “But a whole day being hot and bothered?”

He saw her trying not to smile. “That wasn’t very nice of me, was it?”

He shook his head, his finger running along the edge of the blanket lining her chest. “Definitely no nice list for you.”

He heard her breath catch, and he smiled, secretly pleased with himself for causing a reaction in her. “So it’s gonna be fast….then slow,” he promised, moving into her space.

“Ohhh,” she breathed, retreating slowly towards the stairwell as he followed. “Naughty and nice.”

He gripped the blanket near her hips in his fists and pulled her into him. “One of us has gotta be. Now…about that Christmas package and unwrapping,” he murmured, and kissed her hungrily, ready to get the festivities started.

#caryl #caryl fanfiction #carol x daryl #daryl x carol #christmas caryl #christmas caryl 2017 #my writing #caryl fanfic #personal

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theresnosafeharbor4myships · 6 years

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December 15, Christmas Caryl

@freefromthecocoon sent me a prompt asking me to write a Christmas Caryl based on The Gift of the Magi short story. Here’s my humble attempt (also on 9L)

The Gift of Us

Carol had wracked her brain for days trying to decide on the perfect present for Daryl. She really wanted to make this Christmas—their first together as a couple—special, but with the world given over to the dead, her options had drastically diminished: weapons (a necessity, but not an exceptional gift), clothes (giving him shirts or pants or shoes that had once belonged to someone else didn’t feel special, no matter how much they needed attire), food (stale, canned, jarred, or a fave made with paltry substitutions hardly seemed worthy), something for his motocycle (Aaron had assured her he had everything Daryl could need for the bike), and good loving (well…that was already a given).

For the time being, they had walls, relative safety, a home, gardens, weapons, and food, all the things that mattered now, and she desperately wanted to give him something that would last, something he’d appreciate, a gift to convey just how much she cared about him.

From the en suite bathroom where she stood brushing her teeth, she stared at his side of the bed. His nightstand, stark compared to hers, held a lamp and a box of bullets that matched the gun inside the drawer. His pillow, undisturbed for nights now with his absence, remained fluffed but askew. The duffle he’d recently started using—“Don’t need a closet,” he’d explained in that gruff voice of his when he’d set it on the floor near the bed. “Got nuthin’ to fill it with. And…just in case we gotta leave quickly…”—held his few possessions: some clothes, a sheathed knife, extra bullets, a few tools. He’d lay his angel-wing vest over the bag like a gothic sentinel when he wasn’t wearing it, but its absence only deepened the longing in her chest for him. The room held other traces of him—a lighter and motorcycle gloves on the dresser, a pair of shoes next to it, and a pack of energy drinks she couldn’t stand the taste of sitting in the corner—and an overwhelming sense of emptiness engulfed her.

She missed him. He’d left nearly a week ago with Tara and Rick to scavenge, and though she expected their return any day now, Christmas, according to the calendar the Alexandrians had kept, was only two days away.

Rick had promised Michonne, just as Daryl had promised her, that they’d return in time to celebrate. She only hoped they hadn’t run into any trouble that would prevent them from keeping their word.

Carol finished brushing her teeth and stopped at the threshold of the room again, scanning it for ideas once more.

And then it hit her.

She’d need materials, several hours of free time, and a few lessons from Margaret over at the Kingdom.

Tomorrow, she determined. She’d trek over there, ask Margaret for help, and, if lucky, complete the project early enough to return home. She’d rather lose sleep than have Daryl arrive home, on Christmas Eve no less, without her there.

Snuggling down into her lonely bed, she smiled contentedly to herself, relieved to have finally settled on a gift both unique and meaningful.

Now if she could only pull it off…

******

Avoiding an overhanging branch as he traipsed through the frozen forest, Daryl blustered a sigh, wondering yet again what he could give to Carol for Christmas. Over the years, he’d brought her treats and trinkets from the runs and hunting trips he’d led: a few shirts in her favorite shade of red; a lamp for her cell when she’d mentioned the prison felt cloyingly dark; a pair of earring studs when she’d realized one of hers had fallen out of her ear somewhere along the way; warm, fuzzy socks when it got cold. But this gift needed to exceed any of those trifles; he wanted it to communicate how much Carol had come to mean to him.

He’d considered the usual (clothes, jewelry or accessories, chocolate, or books or puzzles, her favorite pastimes) but nothing struck him as significant enough.

What would relay to her how she’d helped him grow into a person, a man who’d learned how to love and let others love him? What could he possibly give her to let her know how gratitude filled him when he recalled her dragging him back from his destructive path after he’d failed to bring Sophia back to her?

He’d watched her grow, too. From a quietly brave woman to a revered leader, experienced in strategy and with weapons, and light years beyond any of their family and friends in the art of war.

And then it hit him. A gift to illustrate how far she’d come and sentimental enough to portray his love for her.

He’d just need to stop at the Hilltop before returning to Alexandria.

“Should be home by tomorrow,” he threw over his shoulder at Tara and Rick as they followed in his tracks.

He quickened his pace, his footsteps lighter now that, not only would he be back with Carol tomorrow, but he’d have the perfect gift to give her on Christmas.

*****

“It’ll cost you that knife.”

Carol’s hand flew to her hip, the focus of Margaret’s pointing, and wrapped her hand around the hilt. She drew her brows together. “My knife? The Kingdom has plenty of weapons. What do you need this one for?” She asked amiably, but she didn’t like the sound of someone asking for her weapon. Besides, she’d had her knife since the prison. Using it felt like second nature, and she’d be loathe to give it up. “I thought you’d be willing to help me…” ”I am,” the woman, not much older than Carol, assured. “But seems we’re running low on weapons lately. And now that the communities are bartering and bargaining with each other, it’s kinda the rule. I can help you—and I will. Today, since that’s what you want.—but it’ll cost you the knife. Been needin’ something I can hold on to when I’m out there running and fighting. It’s easy to lose your weapon. Suppose that’s why you got a knife with a knuckle guard. Seems that’d suit me just fine.”

Carol eyed Margaret cautiously, furiously debating in her heart whether to give up the knife that had nearly become a part of her or simply walk away. There were others Carol could ask to assist her with her gift for Daryl, but she’d seen Margaret’s supplies and handiwork firsthand, and no one would do a better job. She couldn’t mess this up. Not over a knife. Not when she could just as easily use or claim one of Alexandria’s many knives as her own.

Daryl—and his Christmas present—meant more to her than any hunk of metal.

“Deal,” she conceded, removing the knife and its worn-out sheath from her belt loop.

Margaret turned the weapon over in her hand, then gripped it for good measure. “It’s perfect,” she noted.

Carol nodded regretfully, her mind now focused on Daryl’s gift. “So…how long do you think it’ll take to complete the project?”

“Oh, we’ll be done in a few hours,” Margaret assured her. “Now, let’s go pick out the right color.”

*****

It hadn’t taken much to get Rick and Tara to agree to stop at the Hilltop. They wanted to check in on Maggie (he did, too) and see what, if anything, the community could spare for trade.

Daryl spent time with the woman he saw as a sister—she thrived here as the leader, and the Hilltop seemed just as healthy—before he excused himself and headed toward the line of huts against the compound’s wall.

“Hey there,” Boyd, a teenager Daryl remembered from his brief stay at the community, greeted as he approached.

“Hey,” Daryl returned, his eyes quickly roaming the three-sided shack they used for blacksmithing and hide-tanning. “Your dad around? I could use his help with somethin’.”

“Whaddya have in mind?”

Daryl spun to see Trevor, the tall, lean Southerner in his 40’s who knew more about hides and tanning than any man he’d ever met.

“Got somethin’ I was hopin’ you’d help me make. Today if possible.” Daryl described exactly what he had in mind.

“Sure will be nice,” Trevor stated. “But…it’ll take some time.”

“I’ll stay as long as it takes,” Daryl assured. “Think we can finish it today?”

“I already got the materials, but…you know I got a schedule to keep, what with the trade items for the Kingdom due soon and the snow comin’ off and on.”

“I could help you?” Daryl suggested, praying Trevor wouldn’t take him up on the offer. He much preferred the woods and hunting over a kiln and pelt work. Besides, he wanted to make it home to Carol, the sooner the better. And definitely before Christmas tomorrow like he’d promised her.

The man chuckled. “I know you ain’t any good with that stuff. You lived here for a short time, remember?”

Daryl’s mouth quirked up on one side. “Yeah, I know. Well…what can I do?”

Trevor considered it for a moment, then said, “Tell you what...I’ll help you—guaranteed we’ll get it done today—if you trade me for your vest.”

Daryl’s brows knit together. “My vest?”

“Yeah. That thing’s a rare beaut, what with those angel wings and braided panels on the sides.” Trevor leaned in close, whispering conspiratorially. “Works like a magnet on the ladies, too. I seen ‘em checkin’ it out.”

Daryl reared back slightly. “The vest?”

“Or you,” Trevor smirked. “But since I ain’t you, I’ll try the vest.”

He’d never known the vest to help him with the ladies before, and he’d had it since long before the turn. As much as his crossbow, it was almost a part of him. He hated the idea of seeing it—yet again—on someone else and thought it a steep price for what he was asking.

Still, the gift he’d have for Carol would be well worth it if she liked it half as much as he thought she might.

“Alright,” he conceded ruefully, shedding the beloved vest like a second skin. “Let’s get started. I wanna get home as soon as possible.”

*****

Carol carefully withdrew Daryl’s gift from her knapsack and laid it on the bed. It looked perfect, the color an identical match, the handiwork exquisite, the details refined. Not a curve or stitch out of place, it would replace the old set nicely.

And she could hardly wait to present it to him.

She’d returned after nightfall to an empty house but had no doubt Daryl would make it back by tomorrow like he’d promised, as long as nothing untoward had occurred out on the road.

With one last satisfied look at the gift, she folded it up and tucked it into the small Christmas bag she’d finagled from the stash Carl had found. Downstairs, she snipped a piece of string from the kitchen catch-all drawer and tied the handles together, then set the gift on the coffee table.

Carol hummed as she heated up a pot of lentil soup (the only kind left in the pantry), wondering where Daryl was right now. Several miles out? Approaching the gate? Walking up the street? Had they run into any trouble? Were any of them hurt? Even now, after months on end without enemies tearing at their compound, innumerable dangers abounded. Wounds and starvation, random enemies and thirst, nature and mistakes…just a few of the pitfalls that could befall them. They both worried when without the other.

She knew he and Rick would have kept track of the days, and Tara likely kept them in line with her sass and wit. Carol smiled at the thought, stirring the pot one last time before turning off the stove.

She heard the front door rattle, then Daryl’s voice reached her. “Carol?”

“In here,” she exclaimed as she rushed to the front of the house.

Daryl barely had time to close the door before Carol threw herself into his arms. She radiated warmth in contrast to the biting cold outside that had seeped into his clothes and his bones. “Hey,” he murmured against her hair, wrapping his arms snugly around her.

“Hi.”

Her breath teased his ear, and he nuzzled into her embrace, gently kissing her neck.

She felt like home: safe, warm, welcoming. Unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. Each time he left or she set out somewhere, his arms—his heart—felt bereft. But coming home to her, reuniting with her after an absence, made up for all the lonely days, frigid nights, and dastardly deeds he had to endure to get back to her.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, we’re all good,” he answered as he withdrew to give her the once-over. “How ‘bout here?”

“Status quo.” She looked up at him, this man she loved. His bright eyes stared heatedly at her, his cheeks pink from the cold. He looked tired but no worse for the wear of having been gone for nearly a week. “You made it back for Christmas.”

“Promised you I would,” he mumbled, leaning in to kiss her.

Even now, after months of being with her, allowed to kiss her, hold her, touch her, love her, she made his blood boil, his heart race, and he didn’t know how this hell of a world granted him the treasure of loving Carol.

His lips, like the rest of him, were cold, but firm as she welcomed him home, and she sunk into his embrace, pressed herself against the solid wall of his chest. Unlike those who’d come before, the breadth of his shoulders, the strength of his arms, the muscles of his chest, the rapid beat of his heart sent a thrill through her instead of a ripple of fear. She doubted she’d ever get used to the haven of his embrace.

“Merry Christmas to me,” she pronounced as he pulled away.

He chuckled, the pink in his cheeks deepening slightly, and he kissed her forehead. “To me,” he corrected. “But let me shower this week off’a me and we can get back to the merry-making.” He winked at her.

“Then hurry it up,” she encouraged, lightly pushing in the direction of the stairs. “Merry isn’t all I’d like to be making.”

“Impatient, aren’t ya?” he teased over his shoulder.

“Oh, I’m patient,” she punned. “Been waiting for a week now. I’m tired of being patient.”

She heard him chortle as he headed up the stairs, and a smile spread across her face at their banter, her heart light and happy.

She turned the soup back on to simmer, keeping it warm for them, and toasted some of the bread they’d bartered from the Kingdom. She couldn’t make him a feast after his trek, but she could have a warm meal ready.

Fifteen minutes later, Daryl’s footsteps sounded on the stairs, and he came into the room, looking clean and refreshed, his hair wet. He’d donned black sweat pants, a long sleeve, dark blue shirt, and a clean pair of socks.

“Somethin’ smells good,” he complimented, turning toward the stove and peeking into the pot in order to hide the gift he’d brought down with him.

“I think that’s you,” Carol stated, running her hand across his back as she moved around him to grab bowls from the cabinet.

He turned as she moved, heading toward the living room, but stopped abruptly when he saw a small gift already sitting on the coffee table. Unsure who else would’ve brought Carol a present—she deserved them all, but times what they were, he hadn’t expected anyone else to go out of their way—he did a one-eighty and stood watching her.

Unaware of her audience, Carol set the bowls on the counter, withdrew spoons from the drawer, and began ladling soup into the bowls. “I made dinner.” She looked over her shoulder, unsure where Daryl had gone, and did a double-take when she saw him standing watching her, one hand behind his back.

She stood up, facing him. “What?”

He cleared his throat and slowly stepped toward her. “I…got you somethin’.” He withdrew the gift from behind him as he neared her, watching her face for her response.

Carol’s eyes slid over the gently-wrapped present, the simple tan cloth giving away a two-inch thick, one-foot long shape, before sliding up to Daryl.

“Merry Christmas,” he declared.

Her face broke out into a smile that reached her eyes, and his heart sped up. “You didn’t have to… I can’t believe you did this.”

Pleased by her genuine joy, he held the gift out to her, and she reverently took it, sliding down into one of the dining room chairs. He sat in the chair next to her, and they half-turned toward one another.

Carol gently pulled the strings of twine until the bow untied, slid it off the package, then unrolled the cloth from a sanded pine box. Her eyes, a question mark, flicked to his, but he remained silent, waiting for her to open the box.

She snapped open the latch and lifted the lid to find a knife sheath, tan in color, with a belt attachment. Carol picked the sheath up to get a better look at the brand on the long, blade-end.

A Cherokee rose.

Daryl watched emotions play across Carol’s face. Surprise, curiosity, awe, then…sadness as she noticed the rose?

His heart fell. For so long, he’d imagined the Cherokee rose as their…thing. A symbol of hope, it’d become a marker of them, their relationship. From Sophia and that grave he still thanked the Powers That Be was empty, to a blackened forest and the memory of all that white-petaled flower represented to him. To them, he’d thought. But now tears filled her eyes, and…well…he felt at a loss.

He watched her eyes slide up to the lighter brand, more of a drawing than an impression in the leather, and she held the sheath closer to her face. Recognition dawned as she took in the monochrome rainbow, and she grasped the sheath to her chest in both hands, squeezing her eyes shut.

To the best of her knowledge, Daryl didn’t do leatherwork. He’d gone out of his way to make this. And the added details of the Cherokee rose and the rainbow…her heart broke at the time and effort he must’ve spent to make such a wonderful gift. And she couldn’t even use it.

Daryl sat, riveted to the chair and so confused he was afraid to breathe. He thought for sure she’d like it. Personalized and safer than that old raggedy one she had now with the seams falling apart, he knew it’d keep her safe and her knife handy. He hadn’t meant to hurt her with the symbols…only to keep Sophia and him with her, close to her. A sort of…talisman of protection.

He swallowed hard, believing he’d made a colossal mistake. “Carol…I…I’m sorry. I just…”

“It’s gorgeous.”

Her voice came softly, filled with wonder, and he sat in silence once again.

She stared at him, his body tense with uncertainty, and she realized what he must be thinking. “I love it,” she whispered, her voice still filled with tears. She looked at the sheath once again. “The Cherokee rose…us. And the rainbow…Sophia. So you’ll both always be with me. Protecting me.”

Daryl felt relief sweep into his body. She didn’t hate it, understood it just as much as he’d wanted and hoped.

“It’s…amazing. I love it. But…”

But…? His heart fell again, afraid of what she’d say.

“Daryl, I…I don’t have my knife anymore.”

Of the many scenarios that had quickly crossed his mind, that wasn’t one of them. He shook his head, clearing away cobwebs. “Whaddya mean you don’t have your knife?”

Carol set the sheath back in the box and, without a word, got up, retrieved the gift bag from the coffee table, and set it in front of him. “Merry Christmas, Daryl.”

Her words, though stained with tears, sounded genuine, but Daryl still gave her a quizzical look as she wiped tears from her face.

“Open your present,” she entreated.

None of this made sense, but Daryl dutifully untied the twine from the bag and removed a handful of neatly-folded, flaxen-colored material. He raised his eyebrows as he unfolded it to reveal angel wings. Wings that looked exactly like the ones on the vest he’d just traded.

Just before he’d left, Carol had told him exactly what she thought of that vest. “Those wings are starting to fray,” she’d said as he’d thrown it on.

“They’ll be alright,” he assured himself more than her. “Cain’t exactly go to the store and get another. Or the tailor and get ‘em repaired.”

“No…but I can’t imagine you without them. You’ve always been there to swoop in and bring me back to safety.”

He’d met her gaze. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

“Just seems like any time I was too far gone or on the brink, you’d come in and bring me back to myself…and you. Like my own personal angel.”

He’d leaned to kiss her then. “Ain’t no angel.” Another kiss. “But I’ll be back soon, and I’ll take you to heaven.”

She giggled as he kissed her again. “See you soon,” he’d promised, then he’d headed out the door to go meet Rick and Tara.

Now, he stared at the details of the wings, the arches of the tops, the layers of feather-work, the long, swooping plumes that would’ve covered most of his back. An exact replica of the wings that adorned the vest he’d given up to ‘buy’ her sheath.

“It’s only part of the gift,” Carol explained. “I’ll remove the old ones and affix these.” She saw his reserved hesitation. “If you want…?”

Daryl gently laid them out on the table, admiring the handiwork, the details, the thought she’d put into this. And hated the words he spoke next.

“I don’t have my vest anymore.” Before the shock on her face wore off and she could ask, he said, “I bartered the vest for the sheath. Wanted to give you somethin’ nice for Christmas. It’s our first…ya know, together.” He took her hand in his. “And I know that sheath you got is comin’ apart. Afraid you’re gonna accidentally get stabbed. And I’d like to keep you around for a good, long while.”

He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it, and a tear slipped down her cheek.

“Oh, Daryl. I traded my knife for the wings. I wanted your gift to be special, too. I know how much you love that vest—and I do, too. I just want my angel around.”

With her free hand, she pushed the hair away from his face and laced her fingers through his now-dry locks.

“What a pair we are, huh?” Daryl scoffed, stunned that they’d both bartered away the exact items the other had gotten a gift for.

She nodded, a small smile playing at her lips. “I guess so. But this is still the best Christmas ever.”

He quirked his head. “How so?”

“You gave up your most prized possession for me. I gave up mine for you. And the gifts we got one another? Here? At the end of the world?” She raised her tone with each question, indicating how ridiculous it should’ve sounded. Instead, it made perfect sense: the two of them, together, giving up all they had for one another. “Look how much love we have.”

He nodded, conceding her point. “’Spose so.” Then, his expression turning playful, he leaned toward her. “And there’s more where that came from.”

“That’s right…you promised me a trip to heaven.”

“Ummhmm,” he murmured against her lips, and proceeded to take her there with touches as soft as rose petals and angel wings.

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