ed dixon

OKAY BUT WHAT IF THE VERY LAST EPISODE OF THE WALKING DEAD IS RICK WAKING UP IN THE HOSPITAL WITH CARL AND SHANE AND LORI ALL SITTING NEXT TO THE BED AND HIS HEART MONITOR IS STILL WORKING AND THE CLOCK IS TICKING AND ALL THE LIGHTS ARE WORKING AND MERLE AND DARYL ARE IN THE HOSPITAL BECAUSE MERLE IS A DAMN IDIOT AND GOT HIMSELF HURT AND GLENN'S DELIVERING A PIZZA TO SOMEONE DOWN THE HALL AND AND AND CAROL IS IN THE HOSPITAL WITH SOPHIA BY HER BED BECAUSE ED WENT MUCH TOO FAR AND RICK JUST SEES ALL OF THESE PEOPLE AROUND AFTER HE LEAVES THE HOSPITAL AND TRIES TALKING TO THEM BUT THEY ALL HAVE NO IDEA WHO HE IS AND JUST THINK HE'S CRAZY OH MY GOD SOMEONE STOP THESE THOUGHTS
Runaway (Daryl Dixon imagine)

imagine: it is pre-apocalypse, but the world is just as bleak for teenage!Daryl. being his best friend, you support him through his decision to run away from home. based on ‘Runaway’ by Ed Sheeran. (2,012 words)

TW: domestic abuse, physical abuse, alcoholism, homelessness, running away from home. also some v v v light smut

lyrics from the song in bold. i really enjoyed writing pre-apocalypse daryl and i am definitely willing to write more pre-apocalypse twd imagines!! this song always makes me think of daryl’s home life, you should listen to it while reading. i hope you enjoy the imagine and daryl’s mismatching socks! - gabby

Originally posted by curious-tales-of-daryl-dixon

I squinted past the bright street light as my fingertips struggled to grab hold of the flaking paintwork of the window ledge I was reaching for. Slotting the toe of my boot into a familiar space in the wall created by a chipped brick, I managed to haul myself upwards and pull myself through the window and inside. I felt adrenaline pump through my veins as I smoothed the creases out of my clothes; I’d been sneaking through that window for years now, but each time felt increasingly thrilling. Turning the light on, I looked around the room; a few new sketches of motorbikes had been taped to the walls and I almost laughed at the lack of artistic skill behind them. Other than that though, the room was still as plain as ever.

My eyes fell upon the sorry sight of my best friend, his knees tucked up to his chest as he sat with his back against the peeling wallpaper of his bedroom wall. He obviously hadn’t heard me sneak in as he unashamedly let out a small sob, his head resting on the arms he’d folded over his trembling knees. 

“Daryl?” I whispered cautiously, taking a nervous step towards him. He glanced upwards in a moment of shock, his bloodshot eyes glistening with fresh tears. He rubbed furiously at his eyes and cheeks in an attempt to remove any evidence of a display of emotion, but we both knew it was too late; I had seen too much. “Is it your dad, Daryl?”

A forlorn nod from Daryl was all I needed to confirm my suspicions, but his older brother, who had evidently been listening into our conversation had more to say on the matter.

Known it for a long time haven’t we, little brother?” Merle’s voice was somewhat mocking as he entered the room, and I itched with annoyance at the way he was making such a serious matter sound like a joke. “Daddy wakes up to a drink at nine.

Daryl shifted uncomfortably, sitting with his legs crossed and picking at a hole in his sock with the word “Tuesday” printed on it. I’d bought Daryl days-of-the-week socks for Christmas last year as a way of mocking his disorganisation, but the idea had obviously missed the mark as it was definitely a Friday. Usually, I would have laughed at the fact that his other sock read “Sunday”.

Disappearin’ all night,” Merle went on in that same infuriating voice. “Wanna know where I found him last night, little brother?”

I don’t wanna know where he’s been lyin’,” Daryl replied through gritted teeth, refusing to pay attention to his brother. Merle simply chuckled before leaving the room, not without slamming the door behind him.

A silence filled the dusty air of Daryl’s room as I sat down next to him, letting him rest his head on my shoulder. I ran my fingers through his hair which seemed less and less blonde by the day, gently massaging his scalp with my nails in a way I knew would calm him down. 

“Wanna talk about it?” I asked tentatively, feeling him sigh and sniffle slightly. Of course, being Daryl, he didn’t give me a yes or no answer.

I know what I’m gonna do,” he remarked, standing up abruptly and opening the closet next to the window I’d just slipped through. “I’m gonna run away with you, Y/N.” He pulled out an old backpack he once used for school from underneath a mountain of clothes in his closet. 

“Daryl, what about school, college applications,” I stammered, thrown by the notion. I watched as disappointment flooded Daryl’s face, which was soon replaced by determination. “Why can’t you just speak to your dad first, let him know how you feel?”

There’s nothin’ to say, ‘cause he knows,” Daryl mumbled, trying to hide his dismay as he grabbed clothes from the pile in his closet, scrunching them up and tossing them into the bag. “I’ll just run away an’ be on my own.”

My heart twinged with despair as I watched Daryl gloomily shove clothes into his backpack, and I felt a responsibility to accompany him. My parents would kill me, I knew that, but I suddenly felt the urge to rush home and pack my own bag. 

I’m gonna pack clothes, and when it’s morning, we’ll go.” I said with a small grin, watching a smile creep onto Daryl’s face. I kissed his soft cheek as I made towards the door, enjoying the blush that coloured his face. As I dangled my legs over the window ledge, I called out to Daryl through the window before I jumped. “By the way, you’re supposed to pack shoes first, dumbass.”


It was six a.m. and I was waiting for Daryl outside his house. I’d scrawled a note for my parents and left it in the kitchen, explaining why I was gone and that I didn’t think it would be long before I would be back home. I watched as the sky went from a dusky pink to a bright orange, and I took the time to admire and appreciate the beauty of it; part of me wished I woke up this early every morning, but the other part remembered my warm bed and shook off the notion completely. I yawned and checked my watch, which read 6:30 a.m. As he was already thirty minutes late, I decided to peek through the windows of his house to see where he was.

I peered through the window of Daryl’s kitchen and froze as I saw Daryl’s dad leaning against the kitchen counter, swirling a glass of whiskey in his hand. I almost threw up at the thought of drinking this early in the morning; I could barely stomach a bowl of cereal at this time, let alone a spirit drink. I watched tentatively as Daryl entered the kitchen, tugging anxiously on the straps of his backpack. Daryl’s dad looked his son up and down before laughing cruelly, cold as stone in the kitchen light.

How long you leavin’?” He asked before downing the remains of the drink in his hand. His voice was only just audible through the small opening in the window.

Well, dad,” Daryl mumbled, his gaze focused on the floor rather than his father. “Jus’ don’t expect me back this evenin’.” I ran back towards the wall in front of Daryl’s house as I he made his way towards the front door. I perched myself nonchalantly on the wall and tied my hair into a loose braid. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Daryl said as he approached me. “Was talkin’ to my dad.”

“Oh,” I acted surprised and hoped that I was doing a great job of pretending I hadn’t been earwigging on his conversation. “All okay?”

“As okay as it can be,” he breathed, pulling me up from the wall and onto my feet. 


In all honesty, I was bored. I’d assumed that running away would be exhilarating, but in reality we’d just been trekking through the woods for what felt like an age; Daryl wanted to show me where his go-to place when he needed to calm down. For some reason, he’d brought a crossbow with him, a present from Merle from a birthday years ago; I didn’t even know he had it, he said he’d never used it before up until now. I mocked him, claiming that there was no use for it and he might as well sell it and make us some money. 

“Shuddup, or I’ll put it to use,” he joked, pointing the weapon at my head and making me squirm. Eventually I convinced him to leave the weapon buried somewhere safe, I was worried that we’d get into more trouble if we were seen carrying a weapon around with us. I promised him we’d go back for it later.

We came to a clearing in the forest with a lake, I was surprised at how quiet and serene it was; I could get used to the absence of people. Daryl removed his boots and his (surprisingly matching) “Wednesday” socks to paddle in the shallow edges of the water. Something came over me, and I longed to add a bit of excitement into our journey, so I quickly stripped down to my underwear and ran frenziedly into the icy water, the cold biting at my skin. 

“What the hell, Y/N?!” Daryl exclaimed, a grin washing over his face. 

“Come and join me!” I yelled, before dunking my head underneath the water. “It’s pretty warm in here!”

“You’re such a liar,” he replied with a laugh, before beginning to unbutton his shirt. I looked away to make it less uncomfortable for him, and within minutes he was splashing me with water as he ran into the lake.

Once our immaturity had subsided, and we’d calmed down from splashing and spitting water at each other, somehow Daryl’s arms had ended up wrapped around my waist, and his lips were softly kissing my shoulders from behind. Shaky breaths escape from my between chattering teeth and left condensation in the cold air; I could not longer tell whether I was shivering from the cold or from Daryl’s touch as his hands roamed upwards and underneath my bra. 

“Daryl,” I turned to face him, ready to lean up to kiss him when my eyes were distracted by a deep cut across his shoulder. Before he could protest, I spun him around and gasped at the sight of his bare back covered in both old and newly formed scars and fresh welts, some of which still coated with dried blood. “Oh my god.”

Daryl pushed me away from him and swam towards the shore of the lake. I watched as he pulled his shirt back over his head, not caring whether it got wet or not. I made my way towards him whilst trying to cover myself up, my moment of confidence dwindling. 

“Why didn’t you tell me he hits you?” My voice was high pitched and unsteady.

I was raised to keep quiet,” was Daryl’s response, and with that he’d dressed himself and set off towards the road again, leaving me shivering in my underwear.


My watch read 01:46 a.m. but the train station clock read 01:49. After changing the time on my watch to match, I looked down at Daryl who was asleep on my lap, or so I thought.

“Why’re you still awake?” I whispered, my voice quietened by the wind rushing through the station and through our hair. I felt him quiver on my lap; our clothes were still damp from a combination of both the lake and the pouring rain we’d walked in. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” he replied, sitting up and rubbing at his tired eyes. “Kept dreamin’ that the world was gonna end, and realisin’ I wished that would happen.”

I laughed lightly and leant my head on the shoulder he was offering me. He ran his fingers through my hair in the same fashion I had done to him the night before, and I smiled to myself at his gentle touch. 

“If the world ends, maybe your stupid crossbow would become useful.” I joked, and we laughed weakly. Daryl’s expression clouded with embarrassment as I slipped my hand up his back and traced the injuries as lightly as I could. 

“It’s never gonna be alright, is it, Y/N?”

It could take a bit of time to heal this,” I sighed, nuzzling into his shoulder and enjoying the feeling of his fingers tangling in my frizzy hair. “But I’m always gonna be here for you.”

Both my watch and the train station clock read 02:23 by the time we’d snuggled into our sleeping bags and laid to rest on the cold floor of the station underpass. Of course, before that, we had plenty of time to share shy kisses; I fell asleep with a sense of completion as I accepted the fact that my best friend was now something much more.

3

Falling in love starts with, “Who the fuck is this?” - Louis CK

Carol Peletier, a force of nature.

Siempre he pensado que la escena en la que Carol golpea con el pico el cadáver a medio devorar de su abusivo marido y se desahoga emocionalmente con ello, marca un antes y un después en ella.

Por eso he querido plasmarlo en esta ilustración.

Daryl la observa de fondo tras haber sido testigo de su rabia, y ella posa distendida con el pico ensangrentado en su mano derecha y la cabeza de su marido en la izquierda.

3

Frank: I know when I’m out of my league. I restrict my crusade to humans. Maybe some of your super pals would be interested.

Matt: Just being a good citizen?

Frank: Just bringing enough force to the problem.

Marvel Knights #1

Chuck Dixon + Ed Barreto 


Despite his origin being in Marvel Universe proper, there is sometimes the sentiment that Frank Castle as a character does not make sense alongside superpowered characters. Or, there’s the thought that with the Punisher’s credo, any and every villain in the 616 world still being alive and breathing means he’s doing his job wrong. However, the fact that Frank does not actively go after say, Doctor Doom (mind you, that match-up has actually happened before and it was as ridiculous as it sounds), does not mean the character is inconsistent; it simply means Frank is smart. He knows his limits. He knows enough to pick his battles, and to leave superpowered villains to superpowered heroes.

There are exceptions to this of course; Dark Reign, being chased by the Avengers in Rucka’s War Zone, and other events have pulled Frank forward against non-human foes, where he is forced to adapt as a regular human in a superhuman world. When done properly, those stories are very interesting to read. None of this means that Frank sticks out in 616 like a sore thumb; he simply has his own corner – much like Daredevil himself – and sticks to it.