#caryl coping skills

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

I just can’t with these two. This is so cute. 💙

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

- sighs dreamily- 😍

The eyes, chico. They never lie.

[shimmershaewrites]

Waltzing's for Dreamers, Chapter 18 (a Walking Dead story, Caryl AU).

Title:  Waltzing's for Dreamers. 

Rating:  M, for adult language. 

Warnings:  adult language. 

Characters/Pairings:  Daryl Dixon, Merle Dixon, Rosita Espinosa, Laura, Heath, Richard, mentions of Carol Peletier, Andrea Harrison. 

  Waltzing’s for Dreamers

    More than three years after Vegas. 

      He’s flipping through the glossy pages of some health magazine.  Glancing over the ads and skimming through the articles, just generally trying to distract himself.  From the images of devastation flashing across the television mounted in the corner, yeah.  But mostly from his brother losing his shit in the other room. 

  “Ain’t takin’ orders from a mouthy bitch with a fuckin’ bar code on her neck.” 

  “Mr. Dixon, Laura’s simply following the same treatment plan you and Rosita agreed upon at your last appointment.” 

  “That’s right.  Me and Rosita.  She look like Rosita to you, Coolio?” 

  “The fuck?”  Daryl’s already tossed the magazine aside when Merle comes charging into the waiting room like one of them runaway bulls in Spain.  Hurls himself in front of the jackass like an idiot waving a red flag and stands his ground because this ain’t the first time his brother’s tried to make this escape.  He’s sure it won’t be the last.  He’d be a fool to pretend otherwise.  Without the aid of gettin’ high, Merle’s coping skills are pretty much shit on toast.  Not to say his own are much better.  Still.   “Hell you think you’re going?  You ain’t going nowhere.” 

  Merle’s eyes flash and he clenches his jaw, hisses his response through his teeth.  “Watch me."

  “Gonna whoop my ass with one hand, huh?  Like to see you try.”  Sure, it’s not the smartest thing to say.  But since he signed those papers Andrea thrust under his nose all those months ago?  Since he pissed away the best thing that ever happened to him?  He ain’t exactly been Mr. Cool, Calm, and Collected where his own well-being was concerned.  His brother is a whole different story, though.  Waving off Heath when the other man hesitantly makes his approach, he promises.  “Got this.  Why don’t you go smooth things over?” 

  Merle scoffs but ultimately settles down.  Stares outside the line of windows at the gray Houston skyline for a while before he speaks.  “Ain’t like you was.” 

  Daryl don’t know how to respond to that.  So he just bites his tongue and bides his time knowing Merle’s got enough words for the both of them. 

  “Used to be, you’d take whatever shit I dished out.  Now?  You got yourself a set of grown ass man balls and I don’t know whether to call Mouse up to thank her or give her a piece of mind.” 

  It’s the first time the asshole’s brought Carol up in months.  First time he’s even hinted at what went down while he was laid up in that Atlanta hospital bed, his arm all crushed to hell and the rest of him not much better.  Just two floors separating him from a woman he briefly called a sister and a baby nephew that was never meant to be and Daryl wishes he’d just kept his big mouth shut but there’s nothing to be done for it.  It’s out there.  It’s in the open now, and he knows Merle.  He’s going to pick at the scab until it heals into something else altogether.  Going to do his best to toughen him up even more because it’s the Dixon way.  “Leave her alone.  S’what she wanted.  What she wants.” 

  Merle’s eyes narrow and he shakes his head.  “See now.  You ask me?  Something ain’t right with that picture.” 

  Shouldering past him roughly, Daryl growls a warning.  “Didn’t ask you.”  

  “Yeah and that’s the biggest part of your damn problem.”  In contradiction to his earlier pronouncement, he says, “Seems to me you’re running scared, Baby Brother."

  “The fuck you say?”  Daryl’s vaguely aware of a throat clearing, but he doesn’t back off.  No, he gets right in his brother’s space, a dangerous edge of warning to his voice.  Thankfully, the situation is prevented from escalating out of control with Rosita’s timely arrival, the petite physical therapist in training pushing between the two of them and hurling a few choice words at them in Spanish.  More than half of them obscenities he’s sure. 

  “Do I need to call security?” 

  Merle steps back and Daryl follows his lead, breathing hard. 

  “Stand down, Richard.  I’ve got it handled,” Rosita confidently tells her superior.   

  “Thought you done skipped out on me, my little Texas tamale.” 

  Rolling his eyes at his brother’s act, Daryl reclaims his abandoned seat and picks up another magazine.  When the gummy smile of a blue-eyed infant greets him, he swallows hard and puts it back where he got it.  Face down so the loss he still hasn’t allowed himself to feel won’t mock him.  He’s only half-listening when Rosita drops a bulging duffel bag in the seat beside him.  Looks up, startled when the young woman inadvertently nudges his boot with her own. 

  “Sorry.”   

  He’s not sure if the muttered apology is for him or Merle but Daryl nods all the same. 

  “Have some friends down Galveston way,” she explains.  “Drove down to see if I could help in some way, but everything’s still such a mess.  So I came back.  Looks like just in time, too.” 

  “If you mean to see Darylina get his ass handed to him, yeah.  Did.” 

  Tilting her head, Rosita sizes them both up.  Smirks.  “You really think you could take him, Old Man River?”

  “Both hands tied behind my back,” Merle boasts with a shit-eating grin. 

  “Only got one,” she reminds him with a twitching smile of her own. 

  Properly schooled, his brother whistles low between his teeth.  “Damn but that’s a low blow you dealin’ me.” 

  Unmoved, Rosita folds her arms across her chest and shrugs.  “Truth hurts, doesn’t it?”

  Daryl just sits back.  Watches.  Because the girl’s got his brother’s number and Merle?  The dick knows it but doesn’t care.  Loves that she gives as good as she gets and, in that regard, Dr. Stevens giving this referral before they left the state of Georgia is its own sort of miracle.  Behind only Merle surviving an accident designed to kill. 

  “Ready to give the prosthetic a real chance?” 

  “Sonuvabitch chafes.” 

  “No pain, no gain.” 

[cutsliceddiced]

New top story from Time: The TIME for Kids Guide to Talking About Tough Topics

At TIME for Kids, one of our goals is to help equip children with the skills they need to navigate the news. We also want to make sure educators and families feel supported in this mission. Below, you’ll find two interviews that ran earlier this year in TFK. The first talks to children about how to handle their feelings if the news is upsetting. The other looks at how kids can help stop cycles of anger and misunderstanding. There is also a set of resources to help you talk about tough stories in the news with the children in your life.

Gun violence is an all-too-frequent reality in our country. One way to create change is to build a community in which our children feel safe and validated. Let’s work together to achieve this goal.

—Stacy Bien, Curriculum Director, TIME for Kids

Child Mind Institute

Share Your Feelings

If something in the news makes you feel worried or upset, what should you do? TFK asked an expert, Dr. Harold Koplewicz, president of the Child Mind Institute. Here, he offers some advice.

I hear people talking about the news. How do I know whom to trust and what to believe?

Turn to the trusted adults in your life—parents, teachers, and coaches—to speak about topics that concern you. If a friend shares information, make sure the source isn’t just someone’s opinion passed along through social media. Seek information from reliable sources, such as newspapers. Your school librarian can help you assess a news source’s trustworthiness if you are unsure.

I saw a TV report that upsets me. What can I do?

Sometimes, when you go on the Internet or you watch news on TV, it’s not completely accurate. The news on TV is fast-paced. When sad news affects our nation, all of us need time to understand it and process it. The best people to help you do that are your parents, teachers, and other adults you trust.

The news made me feel sad. What should I do?

Sadness is a normal emotion. Even someone strong and powerful weeps when he or she is very sad. It’s part of being human that sad events make us personally feel sad. That doesn’t mean we need to fall apart. We just have to acknowledge that we’re sad and move forward.

The news made me feel worried. What should I do?

When we have upsetting news, people respond in different ways. There are certain kids who are very private and don’t want anyone to see how they feel. Other kids share their worries. If you feel worried, talk to your parents and teachers. Getting information can make you feel more comfortable.

I spoke to my parents and teachers, but I still feel worried. What else can I do?

If you’re still very nervous, another way to feel better is to take part in activities that help others. Go with your parents to a soup kitchen, or think of ways that you or your class can help other kids. Also, make sure to keep your normal routine. Go to sleep at the right time, play with your friends, and go to the movies. It’s okay to feel sad, but it’s not good to stop doing the things you usually do.

Jessie English for Unicef USA

Show Respect, Model Kindness

Understanding and inclusion start with you. TFK talked with Caryl M. Stern, president and CEO of UNICEF U.S.A. and coauthor of a book called Hate Hurts. Here’s her advice on how to handle hurtful comments and find common ground.

Be a part of creating the world you want. That means thinking and planning ahead. Do not wait until hate happens to talk about hate.

There’s no time limit for responding to a hurtful comment. You don’t have to respond right in the moment. Sometimes, you are so angry or hurt or shocked that you can’t respond. Or sometimes, it would be such a public response that you would humiliate the offender. That might not be the best way to get them to hear what you have to say. Make a plan as to when you are going to respond, and follow through with it.

Open the ears of the listener. Start by pointing out why you’re bothered and how you feel. Make sure the person knows that they matter enough for you to talk to them.

Use I statements, not you statements. Explain to the offender that you are not talking about what they said. Explain that you are talking about how what they said made you feel. You are not trying to get them to defend what they said. You are trying to explain to them why it was hurtful. You can’t necessarily change a person in one conversation. And you can’t ask someone to change who they are. But you can ask them to change the way they act around you.

Learn how to ask questions. I consider there to be two basic diversity skills. One is how to ask questions, the second is how to give answers. You want to be able to ask about things you don’t understand, but you need to know how to ask in the right way. Part of that comes from learning how to give answers and finding the right vocabulary.

Learn about cultures you know nothing about. As a class project, look at what’s happening in your community to find out what’s different from what you normally do. What festivals, concerts, or plays are happening? How many different houses of worship are there? See if each of you can get the adults in your life to take you to one of them.

Peter Hapak for TIME

Parent Resources

Our kids are exposed to so much more information than previous generations were. How do you explain to them the scary and difficult events that they no doubt hear about, without making them anxious or fearful? Our immediate instinct is to shield our children from such events. While this is perfectly natural, especially as parents are also having difficulty wrapping their heads around the events, it might not always be the best approach, according to experts.

Figuring out what your child has learned and answering his or her questions in understandable terms is usually the best approach, according to Harold Koplewicz, president of the Child Mind Institute: “By initiating this dialogue and allowing and encouraging your children to express their feelings, you can help them build healthy coping skills that will serve them well in the future.”

It’s important to stay calm as you talk through the events. Children pick up their cues from their parents, so if you act anxious, they will be anxious. Psychologist Paul Coleman, author of Finding Peace When Your Heart Is in Pieces, says parents should follow these SAFE steps.

Search for hidden questions or fears. Ask what else is on their mind about what happened, what their friends say about it and what their biggest worry is right now.

Act. Keep routines going—homework, bedtime rituals, and so on—because they’re reassuring and distracting. “It is a good time to have them do kind things for others,” says Coleman. Little things, like opening a door for a stranger, “remind them that there are kindnesses in this world.”

Feel feelings. “Let them know their feelings make sense,” says Coleman. Let them talk it out and show that you understand.

Ease Minds. After you’re sure they’ve talked through their fears, you can assure them of their safety.

Every week, TIME puts out a free parenting newsletter that quickly summarizes the latest interesting and important parenting stories of the week. It’s a compendium of new studies, different approaches, and a shared conversation about the joys and difficulties of parenting. I invite you to subscribe, at time.com/newsletter/parents. In the meantime, rest assured that the key thing your child needs from you in difficult moments is your time. If you’re there, your child will sense that not much can go wrong. — Belinda Luscombe, TIME Editor at Large

Selected Additional Resources

Explaining the News to Our Kids

Tips for addressing disturbing news with children in different age groups

Table Talk: Gun Violence and Mass Shootings

Guidelines for families to understand and discuss violence with children

Talking to Children About Violence: Tips for Parents and Teachers (Available in 10 languages)

A guide for adults on creating a sense of security in response to a violent event

Helping Your Students Cope with a Violent World

Strategies to help children understand their emotions when they are exposed to hard news

via https://cutslicedanddiced.wordpress.com/2018/01/24/how-to-prevent-food-from-going-to-waste

[echonationradio]

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[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

I did not see this coming! This is wonderful!

So great to see Norman and Melissa together and that they both verified that Melissa has been involved from the beginning and apparently in France for much longer than we ever knew!

https://x.com/BenClaimed/status/1713758476386648232?s=20

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

This is where dreams come to die,

And it's where I met you

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

We’re Burned for Better

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Carol Peletier

Setting: Commonwealth (Series end, No France)

Warnings: Allusions to child abuse, mention of injuries/scars

Summary: They’ve always survived. Now they’re ready to live.

*Click here to be added to taglists.

It was uncharacteristically quiet on the streets of the Commonwealth. Even the usually jubilant marketplace remained dark and empty long after the sun had poured her rays over the seemingly normal little community. The days that preceded had been filled with uncertainty as the darkest of evils threatened to snuff out the light. Pamela had failed and the people had survived, though not unscathed. On this particular morning, they would rest. They would heal. And then, as they always managed to do, they would move forward. 

Ocean blue eyes squinted against the unwelcome light. No, she was too sore, too tired, too done to leave the comfort and safety of such a soft, warm, welcoming bed. Carol raised a hand to her face and scowled from between her fingers at the part in the curtains. She soon gave up and allowed her arm to fall, landing limply across her side. She closed her eyes once more, her fingers brushing across a patch of still sensitive skin just below her sternum. The previous few days had taken a grueling toll on her body. Only a dull ache reminded her of how close they had been to failure before Daryl had stepped up, being the voice that drew opposing sides together. 

The mattress shifted and she did not even try to resist the smile that tugged upward on the corners of her lips. Against the protest of sore muscles, she slowly rolled onto her right side to gaze upon the man that shared her bed. Her archer.

His bare back faced her, a myriad of lightened scars telling their tales of a life before and after the end of the world. Instinctively, she reached for him, feeling the raised skin of a particularly intense scar that decorated the area between shoulder blades. ‘Daddy’s belt,’ he had told her. She had bore witness to the tolls life had taken on his body too many times before she had been given the chance to kiss every scar as he told the tales of their origin. Those moments were more intimate than the lovemaking that could have followed but didn't. He had shown enough vulnerability that night and, though she was certain he would have been willing, they spent the night simply lying in each other's arms. 

“Daryl.” A whisper as she drew herself closer, molding her front to his back. Her thin shirt did nothing to shelter her skin from his warmth. She found herself hoping she hadn’t woken him after all. Refusing to separate, they had practically crawled upstairs and collapsed after the streets had quieted, physically and emotionally drained after the turmoil of the past few days. A few more hours like this were well deserved and long overdue. She didn’t even try to resist when her eyelids began to droop, his soft breathing and steady heartbeat lulling her into a dreamless but restful sleep.

The sun was well into the sky when she next knew anything. Carol couldn’t remember the last time she had slept in that late. She was even more surprised to find herself still twisted around Daryl. Pressing a featherlight kiss to his shoulder, she smiled against his skin when he began to stir. “I thought you were always up before dawn, Daryl Dixon.” 

"Most’a the time.” His voice was thick and laced with sleep. He pulled away slightly to stretch tired limbs before settling back into their previous position. “Ain’t usually in bed with no one neither.” She could almost feel his smirk, but chose to snuggle closer as opposed to the playful smack she thought about giving him. 

They fell into a comfortable silence, Carol’s fingers skimming up and down Daryl’s arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. She finally allowed her hand to close around his, their fingers lacing together.  

Sitting up slightly, Daryl rolled over to face her, their foreheads nearly touching as he laid back on the pillow. He reached for her hand and smiled at her before he began to lazily trace circles into her palm. 

“Do you think it’s over?” She whispered. 

His smile faded as blue met blue, a plea for reassurance reflecting in her cyan orbs. It was obvious that the question had been expected, but the answer was not at all easy. 

“No.” Daryl replied quietly, releasing her hand to cup her cheek. “Maybe this, but somethin’ else’ll come ‘round. Always does.” 

“I just— I want a chance at this,” she wrapped her fingers around his and squeezed.

There was a ghost of a smile as she let go only to place her hand on top of the one he held against her face, dragging it over to kiss his palm before she sat up. She stretched and looked at him over her shoulder, accidentally drawing his attention to the skin now visible from the drooping sleeve of her shirt. Carol gave a yelp as he sat up and pulled her back against him.

Dragging his fingers up her arm, he reached her hair and pulled it aside to allow access to her neck. Carol hummed in appreciation, tilting her head. “You know,” she breathed between his gentle pecks against her pulse, “we’ve seen every inch of each other at one point or another but—" 

She heard a mumble that sounded dangerously like ‘less talk’ and had to stifle a chuckle. Carol spun to wrap her arms around his neck, finally kissing him with all the fire and passion she felt while pushing him back to straddle his hips. Just as he reached for the hem of her shirt and began to push it up⁠—

"Carol? Daryl?”

Daryl deadpanned. “I hate people.”

"Carol? Are you guys here? Daryl?” Maggie’s voice traveled up the stairs.

“Well.” Her teeth worried at her bottom lip while Daryl scrutinized her with a raised eyebrow. "Some other time, Pookie.” The archer sighed and dropped his head back against the pillow. He wasn’t angry. He was just pouting. She leaned down to kiss the tip of his nose before Judith’s voice traveled up the stairs.

“Are you guys here?”

Carol couldn’t help but laugh as she rolled off the bed with Daryl grumbling and grunting behind her. This was her “normal” life, and now, she was going to live.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

I Will Heal the Ruins Left Inside You

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Carol Peletier

Setting: France

Warnings: References to events that could be spoilers

Summary: What if it hadn’t been Laurent to call Daryl’s name?

A/N: Idk why this song made this play out in my head but I went with it. It was written quickly so I’ll have to go through and edit mistakes and may fix some things I don’t like about it.

He couldn’t stay. He knew that much. Regardless of Isabelle’s attempts to manipulate him, he knew from the beginning that he couldn’t stay. He wouldn’t stay. It had been a mistake to leave in the first place. It took thousands of miles and too many close calls for his stubborn mind to catch up with what his heart knew all along. 

He belonged with her. When he left the Commonwealth, he had told her loved her. He meant it. He just didn’t know the depth of that love until it felt impossible to return to her. Now he knew that he would swim the Atlantic if that’s what it took. 

But a boat would be waiting. It wouldn’t take him home but it would take him far enough. He’d find a way from there. It was a start and he wouldn’t be deterred. 

He cared for Laurent. He knew it, and Isabelle did too. Whether or not her intentions for attempting to persuade him to stay were for the boy or her own benefit, he’d probably never know. But the kid would be safe at the Nest. Daryl had to believe that. 

Even if he couldn’t, he still wouldn’t stay. 

Because the Nest wasn’t home. France wasn’t home. The Commonwealth wasn’t home. 

She was home. 

And he was going home. 

He spared the castle behind one last glance and sent up a prayer to a god he still wasn’t sure existed that the people he left behind would be safe. 

Because he couldn’t stay. 

He sat by a fire that night in a rundown shack, soaked to the bone, with her face at the forefront of his mind. Smiling as he left her. He had known then that he loved her but he had nothing to offer her. He wasn’t a king or even a soldier. He was just a man, broken and imperfect. She deserved perfect. She deserved whole. 

He knew now that she was home. He would go back and throw his heart at her feet; offer it with its stitches, its missing pieces, and its black surface. If she would hold it, even for a moment, it would heal. If she rejected him, it would shatter, but the pieces would still be hers. 

It took another day for him to hear the waves, for him to allow himself to feel the excitement of going home. Yet the flag gave him pause. On that lonely plot of land, a single flagpole with a tattered American flag waved. The markers for the final resting places of all the soldiers who died with his grandfather. He wasn’t sure why but he had to find it; had to find him. The search wasn’t in vain. 

William T. Dixon

His grandfather. His blood. He couldn’t pinpoint a single emotion of the multitude he was feeling. Was it anger? Sadness? Grief? No. 

Determination. 

He wouldn’t stay. 

He turned walking to the edge of the grave markers before looking back. Daryl wouldn’t be like him. He would go back to his family. He would go back to her. 

The boat was there, just beyond the shore. He called to it and waved, assaulted by a sense of relief so strong, it threatened to buckle his knees. When he heard the growls, he felt no fear. The undead would not stand between him and that boat. 

And they didn’t. 

He was on the beach, limping toward the water and allowing himself to smile; he was going home. He was going back to her. 

“Daryl!”

He froze, not only his steps but his heart, his lungs. It couldn’t be. 

“Daryl!”

He turned slowly, wondering if he had finally given in to madness. It had been teasing the edges of his mind for years; the grief, the anger. Had he succumbed to the darkness that had threatened for so long to engulf him?

There she stood. Her short silver hair pressed to one side from the salty breeze. Walkers were littered around her feet. The clear sky behind her gave her an ethereal look but when she smiled, he was undone. 

She was running haphazardly, his pace considerably slower from his bad leg and a state of disbelief. That didn’t stop him from falling to his knees when she was a mere few feet away. 

She didn’t stop; didn’t even pause. Her knees hit the sand, arms encircling his neck. She was warm. Flesh and blood and breathing and real. Yet he couldn’t move. His body refused to obey. 

“I can’t believe I found you!” She was crying but there was a smile in her voice. He wanted to see her face but he still couldn’t bloody move. After a moment, she pulled back, her expression stern. Still beautiful. She slapped the front of his shoulder. “Fucking France, Daryl!”

He felt himself come back, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs the shock had woven. She was still scolding him but the relief in her eyes mirrored his own. He couldn’t help but smile, lopsided and probably the goofiest expression he’d ever worn. 

“Carol.”

“Are you even listening to me? Do you know—oomph!”

He threw himself forward, grabbing her shoulders to pull her halfway, his mouth on hers in a needy, desperate kiss. Her body went rigid, a sign to him that he needed to pull away, but then she relaxed and brought her hands to each side of his face. He forgot everything else; the boat, the remaining walkers. Nothing else mattered but her and this moment. 

And eventually, the need to breathe. 

They were both panting, foreheads together. His hands were still on her shoulders, hers on his face. 

“Did ya miss me?” 

She snorted. “Not really.”

“I’ll take it.” He chuckled and kissed her again, quicker than the first but just as passionate. “I need to tell ya something.” Her small hand moved over from his cheek to cover his mouth. 

“You just did.”

“I meant it back at the Commonwealth, too. I need ya to hear it again an’ know that I mean it now.”

“Okay, fine. Let’s hear it then.” She smiled, smoothing back his hair only for the wind to throw back in his face.

He didn’t hesitate. “I love you. I always have. M’just a stubborn ass. Thought I wasn’t good enough for ya.” 

Her eyes softened and shone with unshed tears. “You’re more than I’ll ever deserve. I love you too.” This time, she initiated the kiss, only parting from him when the snarls of walkers were getting too close. She glanced over her shoulder and then over his. “That our ride?”

“Sure is.” He grinned, getting to his feet and offering her his hand. She let him pull her up but didn’t let go, lacing her fingers between his. 

“Let’s go home.”

Daryl nodded, not giving France a single parting glance as he walked toward the water with Carol at his side. 

He didn’t need to go home. She was already there. 

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Soon to be 🎶reunited and it feels so good🎶

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Here in my heart, an endless sorrow

Tearing apart all that you and I could've been

Love, you are the road I walk alone

The endless night I keep dreaming of

Two heartbeats out of sync with each other and crying

Dreaming of love-letting love

gif 2 by @mcbride

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

I posted the gifs with the lyrics but until you hear it, it just doesn’t do it justice.

Caryl on. 💙

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Okay, so I love my ship. And I’m going to keep supporting my ship.

I may be a little more reserved about it now but feeling like I couldn’t talk about it was hell.

It doesn’t negate the fact that I am still very sorry if I hurt anyone previously with my questions/comments. That remains and I’ll be more mindful in the future.

I’m also sorry for all my pessimistic crap. I’ll try to do better.

Caryl on. 💙

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

No writing today. Need a mental health day and that means I am curled up in bed with my dogs and reading Caryl stories until I’m sick of them (which means I’m reading forever). I’ll get back to writing tomorrow. 💙

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

I do not know the original creator but kudos to them for this. 💙