#redneckxholmes

redneckxholmes

immaggiegreene

irishshots

whispers omg can i please turn this into a mini thread omfg

  He hadn't been on a single run in months, and it had become almost   odd to him. Nor, had he carried his gun in such a  long  time.  It  had   been at least five months since  he  had  even  spared  his  old  Colt   Python any glance. Hershel  had  convinced  him  that  farming  was   better than facing the violence of the world.  

Without even thinking about it, she knew what she liked best about him: his quiet way. In everything. From the way he sat at councill to the way he ate his meals. And in between it all, the moments that twisted through the order of their days, through the arduous task of survival, he was her friend.

Carol had been slow to trust. It wasn't an indictment on anyone's character. She'd just been conditioned in a life that was now behind her to withhold her trust. Trust always meant hurt. In the end, always hurt. But she'd come to her trust of Daryl a bit more quickly than she'd expected. Perhaps it was a shared affinity for the things that break a soul. She wasn't sure, and truthfully, it didn't matter. If she trusted anyone here, if she loved anyone here, it was Daryl.

She knew that love was a textured thing. Something that didn't always mean the press and crush of bodies. There was the occasional gift in this world of someone who's mere proximity could bring a sense of peace. Daryl Dixon was such a gift. They had their moments, his stubborn side didn't mix well with her growing independence, but despite that, she trusted him, and for her, that made him the most important person in her life.