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#christmas caryl 2018
carylerxsecretsanta · 5 months
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Are you a fan of Carol Peletier and Daryl Dixon (aka Caryl) from AMC's The Walking Dead? Do you like to create media (fanfic, gifs, fanart, etc.) for this beautiful couple? Then you've come to the right place. This blog was created in 2013 as a way to celebrate the Carylers and to give each other little happies on Christmas Day each year. Please check in around November to sign up for all the festive fun and holiday joy!
This year was the 10th Annual Caryl Secret Santa exchange. You can find links to the past ten years worth of gifts below (included in this post). I hope you find some goodies to fill your days (and nights) with Caryl-y goodness!
Merry Christmas!
Caryl Secret Santa Presents (2013)
Caryl Secret Santa Presents (2014)
Caryl Secret Santa Presents (2015)
Caryl Secret Santa Presents (2016)
Caryl Secret Santa Presents (2017)
Caryl Secret Santa Presents (2018)
Caryl Secret Santa Presents (2019)
Caryl Secret Santa Presents (2020)
Caryl Secret Santa Presents (2021)
Caryl Secret Santa Presents (2022)
Caryl Secret Santa Presents (2023)
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lola-andheruniverse · 6 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.
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a Christmas Caryl, them together and warming my heart. Merry Christmas! <3
Back For Good (also on 9L)
Daryl heard the news from Tara and headed straight for the bedroom he’d claimed to get the bag from the closet’s top shelf.
He’d grabbed it all a few days ago in defiance and anger, stuffing the items into his backpack. They didn’t need it anymore and had never deserved it in the first place. He’d gone through it all when he’d gotten back, choosing a few select items for her and distributing the rest to the others in their group. He just hadn’t expected to be giving them to her so soon.
Tara had said she’d be next door settling in, and he rushed out the back door and across the yard, shrinking the distance between them as fast as he could—until he reached for the door handle.
She’d come back. Only a few days had passed since the war ended and he’d watched Carol walk away with the Kingdom dwellers. She’d said goodbye, even hugged him—God, he shouldn’t have let her go again, not in this world—but then she skirted away to help rebuild the city that’d helped them win by losing so much.
He wanted to see her, needed to know she was okay, and, more pressing, why she’d chosen to come back to Alexandria.
He pushed through his doubt and the door, calling her name.
“In the living room,” Carol responded.
The sound of her voice soothed him in a way he hadn’t felt since the prison, since the times when he’d return after days, sometimes weeks, out on the road, and the sound of her voice welcoming him back made the world seem less skewed than it’d actually become and everything he’d endured on the road somehow worth it. He hadn’t realized how much he’d come to rely on that—on her—until this moment and all the memories of feeling like home overwhelmed him. It’d been so long…
He made his way through the kitchen, steeling himself—his heart—against the onslaught of emotions that always bowled him over when reuniting with her, and stepped into the living room.
She sat on the couch, removing the Kingdom gear she wore across her chest and on her arms, looking out of place in the home that wasn’t hers, and he instantly wondered if she regretted her decision to come back. His chest tightened at the thought, so badly wanting to believe she’d returned for good that it hadn’t crossed his mind until now that it could be temporary.
She looked pensive, unsure, and entirely stunning, her hair framing her face in silvery curls, her round eyes seeking him out.
“Hi,” she stated simply, breaking the still air between them.
He gripped the small bag tighter in his hand and made himself speak. “Hey.”
She stared at him for several moments, drinking in the familiar sight of him, tall, lean, wearing a knife at his hip and his crossbow on his back, those worn, patched pants he kept washing but refused to get rid of, a dark blue, long-sleeved shirt under his ever-present angel-wing vest. He peered at her through his overgrown hair, his gaze intense and cautious but kind.
Her heart seized in her chest. How she’d missed him.
She patted the cushion next to her. “Come sit with me,” she invited.
Daryl moved through the room silently, removing his bow and leaving space between them as he tucked one leg underneath him and sat sideways, facing her, surreptitiously dropping the bag near his feet as he propped his weapon against the couch.
Carol turned toward him, and the room grew silent again as they both watched her pick at the flawless couch cushion with one hand.
Daryl had plenty to say, a myriad of things to ask her, but as he often did, he kept quiet, reveling in the fact she sat not two feet from him. Unharmed, seemingly content, and, as was their way, comfortable enough in silence that she didn’t immediately try to fill it. He felt as though the world had shifted since he’d last seen her, and he realized the last time they’d spent time alone was at that cottage she’d stayed in. Had that really only been a week ago? He wanted to know everything that’d happened to her since he’d left that night—and everything before that, when they’d forgotten they could lean on each other. He didn’t begrudge her her new-found friends and would be forever grateful that Morgan—who’d disappeared—and Ezekiel and Jerry and the others had taken her in and helped her heal. Still…he’d missed her. Still did, even as she sat in front of him, with all of the trauma and time and evil deeds they’d done lying like so much rubble between them.
He’d spend the rest of his life wading through the muck and mire of it if it meant she’d stay with him. He hoped he’d get the chance…
He glanced up to see her still staring at the couch, waiting for him to say something.
“Tara told me you’re back for good,” he broke the silence, and they both heard the question he couldn’t ask: Is it true?
She finally met his eyes, noting the hesitation and fear in them. She gave him a small smile. “I am. It feels…strange after…everything, but good. I’ve missed being with you and Michonne and Maggie, the kids.”
Daryl willed his blood to pump normally, her admission sending hope flooding through his veins like a drug. “Missed you, too,” he murmured, not willing to let any more time slip by without trying to acknowledge how much she meant to him.
She lent him a knowing smile before letting it slowly fall from her face. “I wanted to help them. I felt I owed them that much after they’d taken me in. They’re good people, kind, fierce, and loyal…to a fault, actually. I wanted to help them shore up the city, rebuild the walls, and I was…”
Carol trailed off, still absent-mindedly playing with the seam of the couch cushion, and Daryl knew something, or someone, had caused her to leave. He waited patiently, his silence encouraging her to tell the story at her own pace, even as he chomped at the bit to know what’d transpired.
“I only wanted to help…I wasn’t looking for anything else.”
She paused again, and he wondered what exactly she was trying to say. Had someone forced her to leave? Banished her like Rick had—which he still needed to process with her someday—leaving her no choice but to come back here? After fighting so valiantly in the war, how could they determine it better to let her go than keep her with them? He’d never rooted for her disengagement from Alexandria, but he’d have words with anyone who actively sought to push her out of their community.
“But he was.”
It took a minute for Daryl to realize her meaning, and his heart thundered rapidly against his ribcage, gripped by fear of what came next.
“Ezekiel, I mean,” she explained unnecessarily, finally meeting his gaze.
He kept his expression neutral as a quiet storm raged inside of him. He nodded once, encouraging her to continue. “I thought I’d made myself clear all this time. Back when I was in that house, he’d visit, and I’d tell him to leave. He’d bring supplies, and I’d refuse them. He’d send people to check on me, and they’d piss me off, springing my traps, and I’d send them away with an earful.”
He kept his smile to a minimal but couldn’t help feeling a sense of pride at how far she’d come since those days in the quarry. Living alone, setting traps, railing at people who encroached past boundaries she’d set, she was a force of nature.
Her admission also explained the initial look of irritation on her face as she’d opened that door to him, before the shock and relief and—dare he think it?—tenderness took over and the walls and tears fell.
Just thinking about it made his arms ache to hold her again.
“I didn’t lead him on—at least I didn’t think I did. He’s very persistent, though.”
“Seems like you made yourself pretty clear to me,” he agreed levelly. Only a lifetime of hiding his emotions allowed him to keep the irritation out of his voice. If a man kept pressing after repeatedly being rejected, he only had himself to blame for her walking away. And though he knew she could handle it—and likely had—he couldn’t help wishing the man lived a bit closer so he could pay him a friendly visit.
She shrugged one shoulder lightly. “Since I was going to be living inside the city, I asked him where I should move to, and he suggested I live with him. It’s when I realized I…I wanted to be here.”
He waited a beat. “Alexandria, you mean?”
“No. Yes. I mean, yes, Alexandria, but…not just Alexandria. It’s important to me that I’m here…with you and the rest of our group. The people who’ve been by my side since the beginning. The people I trust the most. The people who know me the best.  The person who knows who I am and the things I’ve had to do to make it this far.”
Daryl nodded in understanding, thinking of the journey they’d been on together. The trials and losses, the displacements and running and fighting and wars fought long before the man with a bat tried to rule a small corner of the world.
“I wanted to escape. After everything…after all we’ve lost, I thought I needed to be somewhere….someone else.”
Her words sent him back to their trek into Atlanta, another lifetime ago. She’d tried explaining to him then that she needed space, but he knew space, at least the kind back then, without other people around, would kill her. Survival meant sticking together, and he’d tried with every weapon in his weak arsenal to show her she belonged with him: protecting her, feeding her, listening and defending and encouraging and just being with her. He’d even waited until she slept to slip out and put down the mother and child walkers, knowing that act would likely push her over the edge if she had to do it herself. As a rule, if time allowed, they burned or buried the bodies of friends and loved one, not walkers. But that…he’d needed to do that for her. They’d both missed the funeral held for Sophia, she out of defiance or denial, he to ensure she wasn’t alone then, so the burning of those bodies had been his way to pay respect to the mother/child unit, the young girl he’d failed to bring back to her mother, the scared, scarred, and abused who hadn’t escaped from a living hell after all. She’d brought him back from the brink too many times to count; it’d been the one time he’d felt like he’d returned the favor.
“But all leaving did was made me feel like a pariah. I didn’t fit in there, and staying would’ve felt…weird. He’s a decent man beneath his disguise, and I could’ve even overlooked the whole…ridiculous king schtick to stay and help them rebuild. But not after he asked me that. It would’ve made things too uncomfortable.”
“I get it,” he confirmed. And he did. It was the main reason he’d never told her how he felt: because he feared she’d turn him down and leave, not wanting to bother with someone who made a tough life even more difficult. No, he’d rather suffer in silence and keep her around, have her friendship and watch her back, than ever risk her rejection and discomfort.
“I just...want to be here.”
His heart soared, and he desperately wanted to reach out and touch her, prove to himself that he wasn’t having a deluded fantasy, but he sat still, staring at her intently. “Glad to have you home.”
“Home,” she repeated, the word sounding like both a question and a resolution.
He nodded. “You always got a home here. Wherever we are.” Where I am, he wanted to say, but he just couldn’t make the words come out.
“Thank you.” He thought he saw tears in her eyes, but a few blinks later and they were gone. “Did you know tomorrow is supposedly Christmas?”
She sounded skeptical, but surprised and a little excited, and he nodded in response, realizing the heavy moments from before had passed. He’d learned how to manage those conversations over the years—hell, you couldn’t live in close proximity the way they had without getting into them—and even though they still made him uncomfortable, he treasured them. He never felt more important, never felt closer to her, than in those deep, often dark, places where she needed a companion. And when she chose him to accompany her, he faced the shadows, heart pounding, courage wavering, but determined to help her through at the expense of his own dis-ease. His chest ached that she’d come back to him—to them, he corrected himself—because it meant she wouldn’t seek out her new friends or a king or a stranger but him or Michonne or Maggie or others he trusted.
Damn, but he’d missed her. He nearly lost his breath at how much the realization suddenly overwhelmed him.
Carol gave him a questioning look. “You do?”
It took him a few seconds to realize she hadn’t read his mind but instead continued their conversation.
He nodded toward the front window at the blustery, overcast day and the bare trees in the yard and cleared his throat. “Seems about right with the weather getting’ so cold and the snow flurries we had the other night. Huntin’s been harder, and the jacket ain’t doin’ its job anymore.” He looked at her again. “Plus, Tara told me about the calendar the Alexandrians’ been keepin’.”
She huffed a laugh, shoving his arm a little at his teasing and making him smile in the process.
Her smile pierced his heart with affection. She looked beautiful, cheeks slightly pink, eyes happy with mirth, staring at him like he’d dreamed about since nearly the day he’d met her. If he could bottle this moment and hold it for safekeeping, for days when he thought he’d never see her again or the struggle to survive became nearly too much to bear…  He stared, drinking in the aura of her presence, the joy on her face, the sound of her chuckle, the way she sat turned towards him like he was important.
“Seems unreal that they’ve kept a calendar all this time.”
She sounded nostalgic, almost sad, and he understood the depth from which she spoke. While others had become mini-Hitlers, lived like kings, and played at Utopia safely behind walls, they’d clawed and clamored and scraped their way by just to stay together and feed themselves. It didn’t seem right.
“It’s stupid...but they didn’t know better.”
“I guess it’s part of what makes life…livable, huh? We’ve just been surviving for so long.”
He’d never known much of anything else, knew too that she’d spent at least part of her life like that, but he remained quiet, sensing she wanted to say more.
She stared out the window at the waning sunlight as the shadows crept longer across the lawn. “We never could stop to smell the roses like the others. Art and music and reading, birthdays and holidays and celebrating a new year…they all became ancient relics. Until the prison. Until we came here and met these groups.” She smiled sadly. “I guess I wanted to live in a fantasy. After everything we’d been through, everything I’d done, I…I just wanted to escape, to put on another costume and pretend I hadn’t sunken into a hell worse than Before.”
He watched her, knew the exact moment the scenes in her head turned from playing faux-happy homemaker to self-realized hoax. She blamed herself, he could tell, and though he wanted to defend her from her own incriminations, he waited.
“It didn’t work this time. It always had with Ed. I could….will myself to move past whatever nightmare had occurred that week. I had Sophia, and she made it worth the effort to try again. I thought I could do it this time like I always had before, but…” She shook her head, frustration on her face. “it was different. Sophia loved me. Ed didn’t love anything but himself, but she loved me, the real me. None of those people were like him, but they don’t know me and if they did…they’d be afraid.” She finally turned her gaze to him. “But you…you and rest of our family know. They know who I am, what I’m capable of.”
And love you just the same, he wanted to reassure her.
He hadn’t asked, and she’d already briefly explained why she’d returned, but it sent flutters through his stomach to know she trusted him with this…her past, her choices, the reason she’d decided to leave…and come back.
“We know,” he agreed quietly. “We know, and it doesn’t matter to us because we’ve all done the same. They don’t know…but we do. We’re stronger together. I know things happened that you ain’t ready to talk about—and maybe never will be—but I’m here if you ever do. And you think some of it’s unforgivable, that it makes you…worse than the rest of us. It ain’t true. I wouldn’t be here without you—none of us would. The CDC, Terminus...that was you savin’ us. You saved Judy. Wouldn’t let me leave when I distanced myself and acted like an ass. And always takin’ care of everybody except yourself.” He realized how emphatic and forceful he sounded, and he dropped his voice. “You gotta let us take care’a you.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes. “I don’t know how.”
“Gonna have to learn…to live with the love,” he nearly whispered, reaching up to softly wipe a tear away from her cheek with his thumb, the ghost of a smile on his face at the memory of her words to him from another time, a better place. “The only sense this world makes is when we’re together. You gotta know that.”
He reluctantly let his hand fall away from her face, the air between them a live wire he wasn’t sure he felt ready to touch. But, oh, he wanted to, wanted to lean toward her in the darkening room and tell her everything she’d come to mean to him. Cleanse the fear from her and let her know how he treasured her. His heart felt like it would explode inside his chest.
Carol swallowed hard and closed her eyes, severing the tension a bit, and he let out the breath he didn’t realize he held.
She covered her face with her hands for a minute before wiping her tears away and meeting his eyes. “I do. It’s the only thing that’s ever made sense. It’s why I had to come back.”
Daryl held her gaze and nodded, desperate to reach for her but afraid to disrupt the connection they were rebuilding.
“I’m glad you did. Glad you’re here.”
She grabbed his hand, squeezing gently, and her touch sent fire racing through his veins. What he wouldn’t give to hold her close, kiss her tears away, wash the darkness from her soul, calm her fears.
“I am, too,” she breathed, the pain easing away from her face.
He needed to move, needed to refocus their conversation, before he made a fool of himself by revealing too much. Having her back for good, sitting so close to him in the fading light of day, her hands on him, her soft voice caressing his heart, he needed to retreat.
He shifted on the couch, and his foot hit the bag he’d brought with him.
“I, uh…” He withdrew from her, reaching down to grab the gift he’d brought. “I got something for you.” He handed the medium-sized black zippered makeup bag to her. “Call it a Christmas gift.”
She stared at the bag for a few seconds before raising her eyes to meet his, and he felt the room get inexplicably hotter. Her blue eyes, intense and penetrating, held his gaze, and for a minute he thought she was going to kiss him, the space between them coiled tight with electricity.
He swallowed hard. “Go on.” He pushed the words out, and they sounded strained, even to his own ears. “Open it.”
Carol stared at him a moment longer before looking down at the bag in her hands again, and he felt the loss suddenly, like they’d missed a ripe opportunity for everything he’d ever wanted and would never have.
He watched her unzip the bag and open the top to reveal it full of sundry items: a few tubes of chapstick, a mini hairbrush, silver and black snap hair clips, a pair of sunglasses, a bottle of body spritz, a container of face scrub, a jar of moisturizer, and a small tube of sunscreen.
“Daryl...where…?” She rifled through the items, surprise written on her face.
“I was at the Sanctuary lookin’ for supplies and food, and I came across the stash of things the women over there had. Brought it all back with me and…set aside a few things for you before sharin’ with everybody here. I know it ain’t much, and I didn’t exactly know what you’d like, but I thought—”
She suddenly flew towards him, and he caught her up in his arms just as she flung hers around his neck. He froze, his body in shock, every muscle strung tight and attuned to the softness of her in his arms. He closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of her against him again, never wanting to let her go. Her cupped her head with one hand, the other fitting around her waist, tentative but firm.
She felt perfect, scorched him everywhere she touched, his skin set aflame by her arms around him, her breath, ragged but soft, near his ear, her chest gently heaving against his.
“You, uh, you like it then?” he queried.
Her laughter rumbled softly against him, and she withdrew enough to look at him, joy evident on her face. “It’s wonderful,” she breathed.
Her fingers teased the hair at his nape, her hands, still draped around his neck, sending sparks through his blood, and he realized a small lean forward, just a single moment of bravery, would tell him what she tasted like. She sat so close, nearly in his lap now, and he felt time freeze, her words hanging in the air like mistletoe, waiting for a response.
“Carol…” he murmured, afraid she’d recoil. Afraid she wouldn’t.
With one hand she fluffed the hair away from his face, her eyes never leaving his, and he thought for sure he’d melt into a puddle at her feet.
She slid her thumb across his lips, the movement soft and sensual and altogether hotter than anything that’d ever happened to him in his life. Her eyes flicked to his mouth, and he was about to say her name again when she eased toward him and touched her lips to his, chaste and sweet and more than his brain or body could process.
He froze, his body tense, his mind scrambled, his hands at her waist hoping to keep her in place until he could come to his senses. His head swam, his body burning everywhere at once, the world tilting as he soared and fell, the motions leaving his stomach floating into his throat.
He sunk into the moment just as she began to pull away, and he chased her lips with his, gently tugging her back towards him. She moved into him again, her arms tight around his neck, and he felt her everywhere, against his thighs and his chest and his mouth, wrapped around him and stealing into his veins, settling into his muddled mind and burrowing deeper into his heart.
He never wanted to come up for air.
“Daryl.”
She whispered against his mouth, and he felt the vibrations of his name on her kissed lips deep in his soul. She was driving him mad, and he went back for more. He felt her smile against his lips, her tongue teasing him, his heartbeat thundering so wildly he feared it’d jump right out of his chest.
He eased away slowly, trying to catch his breath, and Carol gripped his neck, leaning her forehead against his.
He couldn’t believe what’d just happened, felt sure he’d wake up from this erotic dream any moment now, but it continued on…her breath feathering against his lips, her face mere inches from his, her soft skin beneath his hands at her waist, her forehead pressed to his in an intimacy he’d never imagined actually occurring.
She pulled away slowly, a satisfied look on her face. “You give the best gifts,” she stated, both teasing and serious. “We should celebrate more often.”
He huffed a little, still overcome by her kisses. He could barely breathe—let alone think of a witty rejoinder—with her nearly in his lap, her hands on him, the memory of her kisses still searing his lips.
“I’m glad I came back in time for Christmas.” She stared at him intently, speaking directly into his heart. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
A/N: this is a special fic written for @madwomanlexie and @jaimelannistre  Merry Christmas, my friends!!  Lexi, I told you (maybe a year ago? I’m horrible, sorry!) that I’d write a fic somewhat based on this post--and here it is! And Eena, you wanted a fic where they sit and talk. I don’t know if this suffices but I tried! Hope you both have wonderful, happy, merry Christmases. Love ya! <3
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4th ANNUAL CARYL FANFICTION AWARDS - NOMINATIONS
updated: August 29, 2018
(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.)
Author:
redvelvetunicorn
Trogdor19
CharlotteAshmore
Silversundown
BettyBubble
Amanda Hawthorne
Marie1063
geektaire
CLADD
Alternate Universe:
My Best Friend’s Sister by That1VT
Comfort and Cookies by redvelvetunicorn
Don’t Kiss! by BettyBubble
Predestination by Silversundown
The Threads of Fate by CharlotteAshmore
Angst/Drama:
A Prayer for Tomorrow by CharlotteAshmore
Hers to Love; His to Protect by CharlotteAshmore
Possibility by Marie1063
Don’t Kiss! by BettyBubble
Someone Else’s Star by Amanda Hawthorne
Until the Last Breath by Silversundown
On Vacation! by AMWaaker
Characterization:
Questioning by kingstoken
We Can’t Do This Anymore by CharlotteAshmore
Predestination by Silversundown
Most Ardently by Caryler22
Don’t Kiss! by BettyBubble
Underneath Your Clothes by Amanda Hawthorne
From Beneath the Facade by Amanda Hawthorne
Married at First Sight by Silversundown
Nothing Else Matters by geektaire
Fluff:
Magic Brownies by geektaire
Hers to Love; His to Protect by CharlotteAshmore
A Curious Speck by lilabut
5 Days by Marie1063
Oh, Christmas Tree! by wolviesgal
Nature Call by geektaire
Multi-Chaptered:
Warm Springs by CharlotteAshmore
Reaping the Harvest by ICanStopAtAnytime
Don’t Kiss! by BettyBubble
When It’s Over by Marie1063
Someone Else’s Star by Amanda Hawthorne
On Vacation! by AMWaaker
NC-17:
Sunday Morning by redvelvetunicorn
Go Ahead, Make My Day! by CLADD
Talk Dirty to Me by CLADD
A Case of You by Amanda Hawthorne
Underneath Your Clothes by Amanda Hawthorne
Veni Vidi Amavi by CharlotteAshmore
Oneshot:
Stick the Landing by theramblinrose
Angel Wings by geektaire
A Glimmer of Hope by CharlotteAshmore
Dress You Up In My Love by darylsdiva1
Buried Coals by randomcat23
Always Gonna Mean Something by geektaire
Plot:
Daryl’s Only Weakness by foreverlovingdaryldixon
Don’t Kiss! by BettyBubble
5 Days by Marie1063
A Demon’s Fate by Ravenheart
Someone Else’s Star by Amanda Hawthorne
Romance:
Coffee & Pieby Silversundown
Don’t Kiss! by BettyBubble
Someone Else’s Star by Amanda Hawthorne
Defying Gravity by Amanda Hawthorne
A Rose in the Desert by Silversundown
Series:
The Letter by lovesdaryl
Playing Games by by ICanStopAtAnytime
Torn/Torn 2: Trust by Amanda Hawthorne
Work In Progress:
Lending a Hand by AMWaaker
A Henchman by BettyBubble
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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
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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
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written for my Caryl secret santa: Caryl, back in the good ol’ days <3
Sweet Exchange (also on 9L)
The last of the leaves falling from the trees and the chill setting in their bones told them winter had officially arrived, and with it, Christmas. Celebrating holidays hadn’t occurred to them amidst the running and fighting and scavenging and surviving, but with things finally settling down and the Woodbury lot talking about Christmas being a few days away, the prison was abuzz with the idea of a party.
It’d taken some getting used to, having people around again—and especially ones nearly incapable of protecting themselves—but their small family had slowly opened up. The groups had begun working together, and they’d started construction on a covered outdoor mess hall, prepping the yard for spring planting, building a corral for the animals they intended to have, and going on runs to help provide for the group-at-large.
Daryl had returned from one of those runs not two days ago. He liked being out on the road, preferred it actually, but there was something to be said for having a place to come home to. And home it had become. Not because of the place, though having walls and some semblance of security helped, but because of the people waiting for him, depending on him, welcoming him back.
Still, he found the sheer number of them stifling sometimes. The noise and problems, chatter and complaints, company and neediness, the need to fill quiet spaces with unnecessary words…it all exhausted him, and he often excused himself when too many gathered around.
Like now.
He rubbed his hands together in an attempt to garner warmth. Guard duty had become nearly unbearable after the sun set, but he only had himself to blame since he’d offered to stay on watch while everyone else enjoyed the Christmas festivities.
He cupped his hands around his mouth, breathing hot air onto them before shoving them back into his pockets and scanning the grounds below. The night was dead, and not just because of the handful of walkers roaming the horizon. The air stung, the temperature much too frigid for anything living to want to encroach on their territory. Still, he kept his eyes peeled, even as he wondered what the merry-making inside looked like.
Was Rick wearing that dumb elf hat with the big ears on it that Michonne had found in a storage closet last week? Was Carl pretending Judy was the baby in the manger again? Was Beth leading the group in a round of Christmas carols? Was Carol decorating that wimpy Peanuts-style Christmas tree that Glenn had dragged in? Was she keeping warm? Maybe wearing that red sweater she’d claimed that made her eyes shine like stars and her cheeks look extra rosy? Was she smiling at the kids’ antics? Rocking Judith to sleep? Was she chatting it up with that guy, Greg, the one he’d noticed gravitating towards her lately? Did she enjoy the man’s company? Did she even miss his presence, notice he wasn’t around?
He shook his head, clearing away the frustrating thought that she might not even have noticed his absence, and focused on the yard around and far below him.
It’s not like he had any claim to her. Sure, they’d paired up last winter, after they’d lost the farm, but only because nearly everyone else had someone to keep warm with. She’d started flirting with him then, causing his cheeks to flush and his mind to go numb until an unimpressive ‘stahp’ was all he could muster. She’d mustered all the strength she had and hugged him fiercely after he’d found her in that tomb, nearly gone with dehydration, and he’d silently gulped in air, his breath sucked away by the adrenaline still boiling from his frantic pacing a few minutes before and the debilitating relief that he’d found her alive. He hadn’t realized until that moment how much he’d come to care for her, and it scared the shit out of him. And after that…when he’d ditched them because he couldn’t escape his past, he’d known deep down she’d forgive him for traipsing off with Merle, even as the fear that she wouldn’t gnawed at him. But she had—and had even welcomed him and the jackass back into their fold.
He heart seized at the memory of Merle’s walker stumbling towards him. Had it really only been a month ago? A month since he’d ended the dead thing wearing Merle’s face? A month since he’d returned to the prison—where he belonged, he’d stubbornly told Merle—shuffling through the gate and finding his way to Carol? Since she’d taken one look at his expression and let a small “oh” out on a breath before eating up the distance between them and wrapping her arms around his neck? He’d nearly resisted the embrace, arrogant enough to believe he could hide his grief and handle it without the support of someone who cared about him, but the words he’d mumbled to Merle—can’t do things without people anymore, man—rang in his ears, and he dropped his head onto her shoulder and silently wept. If anyone in their group understood the emotions roiling through him, the bitterness and anger, the gratitude followed by the shame, the hatred and relief, the agony of it all, Carol would.
He swallowed hard against the sadness that still came over him in waves. Carol knew, better than anyone he’d ever met. She empathized but didn’t make excuses for him, called things as she saw them. And saw the man he’d become without his older brother casting that menacing shadow he’d never been able to shake until her.
She intrigued him, this woman who’d suffered her own abuses and come out the better side of it, so different from him. Kind and sweet and strong as hell, where he’d become silent, bitter, and defensive. He’d tried to fight it, attempted to remain indifferent, but he craved her presence. Felt drawn to her in a way that made his heart beat fast and his breath catch in his throat.
And instead of sitting inside celebrating a Charlie Brown Christmas with her, he’d offered to freeze to death alone. What an ass.
He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, his left hand finding the small trinket he’d left there and turning it over and over in his palm.
He’d happened upon it a few days ago. He and Michonne had searched for the Governor for two weeks before returning to the prison. On the way home, they’d discovered a small group of farm houses tucked into a grove they’d never discovered before. A small community belonging to a long-gone religious sect, if he had to guess. They’d made quick work of scavenging and had come away with a few useful items. And he with the small gift in his pocket.
He’d paused when he’d first seen it, shocked that something so perfect existed, then snatched it up and hidden it away before Michonne noticed and set about teasing him. She ribbed him relentlessly, and something about making him blush amused her. He didn’t need to give her any more ammo for her arsenal.
“Hey, you ready to go inside?”
He peered over the watchtower bars to see Ty staring up at him. “Party all done?”
“Mostly. Kids have gone to bed, and everyone else was headed that way when I left.” Ty started climbing the staircase. “You missed a lot of good fun in there.”
Daryl didn’t feel a need to respond. The dour mood he’d set himself in only had sarcastic remarks, and Ty didn’t deserve to be on the end of his self-pity trip.
“We left you some dinner,” Ty told him as he reached the landing. “Still warm too, I think.”
“Thanks.” Daryl passed his machine gun to Ty and grabbed up his crossbow, slinging the worn strap across his chest. “Stay warm; it’s only gonna get colder before morning,” he predicted as he started down the stairs.
“I’m gonna try.”
Daryl ambled toward the cell block, trying to shake away the darkness that had settled in his mind, but too much time alone, in his own head, with his morbid thoughts—and all because he preferred playing the outcast—had soured his mood and left his heart feeling cold.
As if he weren’t freezing already.
He hurried inside to warm up, hoping everyone had dispersed and he could eat his dinner in peace.
He closed the cell block door, effectively shutting the biting air outside, and made his way to the dining area. Red, silver, and gold baubles and garland graced the wimpy tree in the corner, nearly weighing it down with their joviality, and a few shreds of string and what had likely been gift wrapping still littered the floor. Laughter rang down the halls, taunting him in his loneliness, and suddenly the thought of eating dinner alone surrounded by sights of the season didn’t seem so appealing.
Heaving a sigh, he ignored the cheery, intermittent voices from the cell blocks and headed to the stove. He poured himself a cup of warm coffee and snagged some of the turkey jerky he’d made and a small can of fruit before heading toward his cell.
The main room stood empty, the low voices he’d heard coming from sheet-covered cells throughout the block. The noise would drown out any sound he made, but he still walked carefully, not in the mood to encounter any straggling partiers.
He’d nearly made it to his cell when Carol popped her head out of her room and spotted him. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you!”
In your cell? he wondered despondently, nodding noncommittally in response.
“I was just bundling up to come find you.”
Daryl stopped outside of his room as she moved towards him, wearing one of the winter jackets and a scarf they’d pilfered. “Couldn’t find my gloves. But now that you’re here….mind if I join you?”
She had noticed him missing from the party…and had set out to find him? He felt a fluttering in his belly. At least she wasn’t spending the rest of the evening with Greg.
Suddenly her hand was on his arm. “You okay?” she asked, looking concerned.
It don’t mean nothin’ special. Shake it off, Dixon, he scolded himself. Act like a normal human being for once. “Yeah. Just cold.”
“Well, let’s get you warmed up. Mind if I sit with you for a while?”
He shook his head in response, too overcome with images of her helping him get warm to form words.
She pulled back the curtain covering his cell, and he dipped inside with her right behind him. Flipping on the small lamp and leaning against the desk, he motioned towards the bed, offering her the more comfortable seat, but she shook her head. “You’ve been on guard duty for hours. You get comfy and relax.”
“You sure?”
She smiled sweetly at him, nodding, and he moved to the bed, setting his coffee cup on the ground at his feet as she turned the desk chair around to face him. He placed his crossbow in the corner by his bed and slipped out of his jacket, leaving it pooled around him as he sat.
Carol removed her scarf and heavy coat and draped them over the back of the chair as she plopped down. Her proximity made him nervous, and though he didn’t want her to leave, he didn’t exactly want her so close—only a few feet away—with the curtain sealing them off from others. It made his heart thunder wildly in his chest, his thoughts run rampant. With the others around, he found it easier to act indifferent; hell, he wouldn’t be able to handle the ridicule if they knew how desperately he craved her, how often she occupied his thoughts, so he played it safe and kept it cool. But when they were alone—and that had started to happen more and more frequently—he felt sure she could read his thoughts, hear his heartbeat running fast. It was dangerous to have her so close. And yet so far, he reminded himself.
“Did you see our tree?” she asked, merriment on her face. “The kids went crazy when they saw the decorations Michonne and Glenn brought out. They almost knocked it over a few times, all of them trying to decorate at once.”
He didn’t trust himself to speak without sounding harsher than necessary, so he harrumphed in response, giving a small nod, and started eating the turkey jerky.
“Carl wanted to sing, so he and Beth led everyone in some songs, but when Carl started Jingle Bells with ‘Jingle bells, Batman smells,’ Rick called it quits.”
He granted her an amused look but otherwise remained quiet and continued munching.
You’re an idiot, he scolded himself. She’s been running miles around that race track in your mind for hours. Now she’s here in front of you, no one else around, and you clam up like you got lockjaw.
He glanced up at her and saw that his silence had subdued her mood.
Why can’t you act halfway decent?
“Hershel read the Christmas story,” she continued with a bit less enthusiasm. “And we let the kids open their gifts…mainly books from the library, and the chalk and the puzzles you brought back the other day.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Was nothin’.” Her intense stare made him want to fidget, but he willed himself to refrain.
“It meant the world to the kids. It’s not gonna be often…if ever...that we get to open gifts again,” she explained softly. “It lifted everyone’s spirits.”
He gave a small nod and started gnawing on the inside of his lip, unsure how to handle her praise. He felt comfortable in front of walkers and with weapons, but kind words from this slip of a woman with the bright blue eyes and he melted, powerless, like snow in the sun. Slowly, ever so slowly, she was thawing him out.
Her talk of gifts reminded him of the one in his pocket. He’d meant to wrap it, to wait until she was on guard duty and leave it on her bed or perhaps tuck it into her hands before he set out on the next scheduled run, but something in this moment prodded him.  Give it to her…now or never, he told himself. Just ‘cause you’re an ass doesn’t mean you gotta keep bein’ one.
Setting his snacks aside and avoiding her gaze, he fumbled around with his jacket, trying to find the pocket with her gift in it. “I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I got somethin’ for you. For Christmas.” He withdrew a fisted hand from his jacket. “Didn’t….get a chance to wrap it.”
He raised his eyes to see her staring at him in wonder. “Ain’t much,” he mumbled, holding his hand out towards her.
She cupped her hands together beneath his, and he watched her as he placed the gift into her hands. A panoply of expressions crossed her face: surprise, happiness, excitement, anticipation. Holding the jewelry in one hand, she picked up one of the pieces with the other. “Oh, Daryl,” she breathed.
The large stud earrings had creamy-white pearlescent petals with a tiny golden center, and silver rimmed the edges, giving them a regal appearance.
“Cherokee rose. I just thought…well…it’s—”
He stopped stuttering when she abruptly moved from the chair and sat down next to him, but before he could speak again she leaned toward him and slipped her arms around his neck.
“Thank you,” she whispered near his ear, hugging him close.
He froze in place, her touch burning his skin, her scent, light and floral, overpowering his senses, her breath sending shivers down his spine. His heart staccatoed against his ribcage, and he felt certain they could hear it in the next cell block.
She was going to kill him long before he’d ever gather the courage to tell her how he felt  
He slid his arms around her, tentatively holding her like he’d done not so long ago. That hug—borne out of relief and desperation, he knew—had surprised him, but since it’d been a matter of life and death, he understood it. This…this felt entirely different. Full of gratitude, happiness, and a sort of intimacy he couldn’t help but both crave and fear.
“They’re beautiful,” she enthused as she withdrew, looking at the earrings in her hand like they were diamonds. “Cherokee roses...” She met his gaze, and for a moment he thought she might cry. “Thank you.”
“You remembered,” he murmured.
“I could never forget. It was the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me. And...I saw the one out on the grave...” she admitted quietly.
He felt the twitch of his eye, his tell of discomfort when someone got too close, and looked away. “Thought you were gone.”
He heard the sadness in his tone, felt his heart clench at the memory of almost losing her. Of finding her. Of bringing her back to the group and having her with him, with them, again.
She covered his hand with one of her own. “I know,” she whispered.
“Didn’t know how else…to pay my respects. Didn’t know how else to say goodbye. I was so angry that we lost… We went lookin’ for you…after we found T, found Lori. I didn’t want you to…be one of them or, or stay one of them. I couldn’t…it’d already been a few days and I couldn’t leave you like that.”
He saw the forgotten scarf on the ground, the knife she’d used to defend herself. Recalled how he’d jammed that knife over and over again into the floor, the wall, hoping to release some of emotions threatening to spill over. He hadn’t meant to tell her how he’d discovered her hiding place, but now that he’d started he couldn’t stop.
“I found a walker with your knife in its neck, and…I hated the thought of you down there by yourself, tryin’ to find a way out, fightin’ them things by yourself.” He shook his head, his eyes full of fire and hurt and miles away. “I made them leave me down there….in the tombs. I…after losing T and Lori, with Rick head-sick, and me tryin’ to keep everyone alive and make sure Asskicker had food, I…I couldn’t take it anymore. I made them leave me alone. Wallowin’ like a damn fool when they all needed me… I worked myself up to be able to…to put you down if I had to. We promised, and I would have, but…”
“But you found me. You brought me back.” Carol ducked her head trying to meet his gaze, and he finally met her eyes, coming back to the present. “Thank you…for saving me. For finding me.” She reached up and brushed his hair away from his eyes. “For the Cherokee roses that’ve given me strength and hope. And now I get to keep them…keep you…with me always.”
His heart seized in his chest, and he thought he might’ve stopped breathing for a moment. He stared at her, her words washing over him like a healing balm. She couldn’t mean what she’d said…could she? He’d used the rose to lend her hope when she’d lost it; now she was using it to bind them together. How she could do that, could turn the moment from maudlin to miraculous in a few heartbeats, left him speechless.
He cleared his throat, breaking the tension that crackled in the air, and he felt time snap back into place.
She held his gaze as she put the earrings on. “I love them,” she declared. She turned her head from side to side, showcasing them. “How do they look?”
He couldn’t help staring. In the dim light of his lamp, she looked soft and inviting, her smile blazing brightly at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “They’re perfect,” he breathed.
Carol covered his hand with one of hers. “Thank you,” she said softly, her words heavy. “I have something for you too.”
He furrowed his brow as she moved to her jacket and rifled through its folds. She glanced at him once conspiratorially before withdrawing a package wrapped crudely in soft leather and tied with a string. “Here.” She proffered the package to him, returning to her seat next to him on the bed.
Daryl swallowed hard, entirely unprepared for this exchange. It’d taken all of his willpower to give the earrings to her. But to know she’d thought of him too, had prepared and wrapped a gift, and had it in her pocket as she’d set out to find him tonight meant he’d been right: he was an ass for avoiding their first Christmas.
He untied the string and peeled back the cloth to reveal a coiled piece of leather. “What is it?” he murmured as he unwound it. The leather strap had a familiar-looking connecting piece at each end, and he realized he held a new, better version of a crossbow sling.
“I know you said yours was giving out,” Carol explained. “And I want to make sure you stay safe.”
“How did you…?” He trailed off in wonder, noting “D I X O N” emblazoned across the middle of the strap.
“That guy, Greg…? He’s a leather craftsmen. When I found out, I asked him to help me. We’ve been working on it for a few weeks; just finished today. I wanted to give you something nice. You do so much for us, for all of us, I wanted to do a little something special for you.”
He stared at the sling, unable to meet her gaze, his mind spinning. Useful, practical, and something she’d come up with on her own…she’d helped handcraft a personalized gift for him? ‘I want to make sure you stay safe,’ she’d said, but walkers were the least of his worries. She’d disarmed him with gentle words, kind eyes, sweet smiles, and tender touches. He’d fallen prey to her willful spirit, her fierce loyalty, her fathomless heart. She’d captured him as a wounded animal, angry, biting, bitter, and full of scorn, and softly, gently, methodically wooed him to her. And he didn’t care that he was her prisoner.
“Carol…”
The jealousy he’d felt as he’d watched her with Greg the past few weeks turned into embarrassment, and he thanked the heavens she couldn’t read his thoughts. He felt sheepish knowing she’d spent time with Greg because she’d been working on a gift for him. He really was an ass.
“This is…perfect.” He finally raised his head to meet her eyes, and as relief washed over her face, he realized how long he’d sat silent.
“I’m glad you like it. Should be the same length as the original; hopefully it fits right.”
He gazed at her, in awe of the compassionate, fiery, powerful force of nature before him. “Thank you.” He imbued the words with all of the sentiments he didn’t know how to voice yet.
Carol’s face broke into an understanding smile. “Merry Christmas, Daryl.”
He nodded. “Merry Christmas.”
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a Christmas Caryl drabble that hit me.  enjoy!
Melting Frosty (also on 9L)
Carol heard their voices as they approached, and she headed to greet them, throwing open the front door just as Rick, Michonne, Carl, and Enid faux-chased Daryl onto the porch, a laughing Judith on his shoulders.
“We made it, Jude,” Daryl huffed. “We’re safe.”
“Again, again!” the two-year old squealed, patting Uncle Daryl’s forehead with her baby hands. He scrunched his face at her enthusiasm, and Carol stifled a giggle.
“Nah, this horsey’s tired from being chased. ‘Sides, I think it’s your bedtime.” He shifted his shoulders, bouncing her around.
“Horsey?” Carol asked, bemused.
He’d moved under the porch light, and she noted with hilarity that he had snow in his beard and hair. With a black sweatshirt encasing his arms, a white puffer vest with a black zipper, and a black-clad Judy sitting on his shoulders, he looked more like a snowman, and she said so.
“Abominable, maybe,” Rick snarked as he lifted Judy down from her perch.
“Get outta here,” Daryl grumbled as he chucked Judy under her chin. “’Night, Jude.”
“G’night, Uncle. Bye, Aunt Carol.”
“Bye, sweetheart.” Carol waved as the troop on the porch headed into the darkening evening.
Daryl followed her into the house, locking the door behind them. She waited until he turned to face her before brushing the white powder from his shoulders. “She really had you rolling in it, didn’t she? You look like Frosty.” She smiled, running her fingertips through his beard to get rid of the cold.
“Feel like damn Rudolph, my nose is so frozen.”
Her fingers brushed through his hair, then floated down to his shoulders as her eyes settled on his lips. “Snowmen are my favorite.”
The change in her tone had him raising an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
She nodded, a sultry smile on her face as she begun unzipping his vest. “Abominable,” she muttered, looking up at him wantonly as she pushed the garment over his shoulders.
He growled deep in his throat in response, kissing her and anticipating all the ways she would make the cold melt away.
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carylerxsecretsanta · 5 years
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Masterlist: Caryl Secret Santa 2018
I Am (video) & Denim Dreams (banner) by @kingstoken
fanart by @madwomanlexie
Sweet Exchange (fic) by @theresnosafeharbor4myships
We Ain’t Ashes (drabble & drawing) by @broodybluebird
graphics by @captain-coffeebean
gifset by @equusgirl
Grit (fic) by @sophiascarol
Christmas Wishes (drabble) by @imorca
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