Merle Dixon - Blog Posts
Michonne: one more word
look at merle
Michonne: please just one more
Merle: Tangamandapio
...
Daryl: What did you do?
merle bandaged from top to bottom and a broken leg
merle: nothing
Daryl: Yes, of course, nothing made Michonne angry.
merle: bad born
muchnne: bad born
merle: fucking black
michonne: fucking white
merle: silly
Michonne: Dumb
Merle: kiss me
Michonne kisses him and slaps him for yelling at her.
Daryl who was in the room going to look for Merle just looking at what is happening without believing it.
Andrea: What the hell did I just see?
Rick: I don't know but I don't like him.
Daryl: They changed my brother, that's not Merle.
"He was just trying to feel pretty for once. And Merle walked in."
My latest fic is live:
Part 2 of my Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, Don’t Forget: fanfic series
❝ The Weight of Being Seen ❞
(TW: self-harm, panic attacks, verbal abuse, gender exploration, hurt/comfort)
Set in a post-canon TWD AU where Merle and Abe are Daryl’s found family. Daryl is exploring his identity—softness, femininity, safety in stolen moments—until Merle catches him wearing eyeliner and a dress.
What happens next? Hurt. Panic. Flashbacks. But also?
Healing. Holding. Redemption. A couch bed and every blanket in the damn house.
Featuring:
Merle’s clumsy redemption arc
Abraham Ford, actual emotional support tank
Daryl Dixon sobbing in flannel
“If I call you Darlena, you gonna slug me?”
Softness as survival
If you’re queer and tired and ever just wanted someone to say “you’re allowed to want softness”—this one’s for you.
Read it here:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/65002894/chapters/167124994
Reblogs are deeply appreciated. Comments will make me cry. In a good way.
So I started the walking dead and I had this idea for an oc, lmk what you think.
Victoria had always been the kind of person who landed on her feet. Born to immigrant parents who worked tirelessly to ensure she had a good life, she never took anything for granted—but she also never had to struggle the way they did. School was effortless; whatever she read or heard seemed to stick in her mind like glue. Sports were no different—if she set her sights on something, she mastered it. It was as if luck was woven into her DNA.
So when the world ended, it only made sense that luck stayed on her side.
She had been working as an intern in a hospital when things began to unravel. Chaos spread like wildfire, the halls filled with the groans of the dying and the screams of those desperately trying to save them. But Victoria had an advantage: friends in the military. They had given her a warning, hushed voices over shaky phone lines telling her that things were about to get worse—much worse. She didn’t waste time. The moment she had a chance, she scoured the hospital for everything she could carry. Painkillers, antibiotics, sutures, gauze—anything and everything that could make the difference between life and death.
Then she ran.
Atlanta had been her destination, but when she arrived, she found nothing but smoke and ruins. Whatever the city had been before was gone, swallowed by fire and desperation. Staying there meant death. So she kept moving, finally settling just outside the city with a group of survivors.
They were good people, as good as people could be in a world that had collapsed. They looked out for each other, shared what little they had, and fought together when the dead came knocking. But Victoria had learned quickly that there was a fine line between generosity and survival.
That’s why she never told them about the solar-powered generator in her RV.
While the others shivered through cold nights, relying on fire and luck to keep warm, she had light. While they struggled to ration out their meager supplies, she had enough stored food to last longer than most. It wasn’t that she didn’t care—she did. But the world had changed, and trust was a rare commodity. Victoria had seen what desperation did to people. She had seen how kindness could turn into a death sentence.
So she played along, never letting on that she had a safety net the others could only dream of.
Luck had gotten her this far. She wasn’t about to let it run out now.
Y/N, on the top bunk: Daryl there’s a monster under my bed!
Merle, on the bottom bunk: honestly, fuck you
Fluff relationship headcanons with Merle
Infos : gn!reader
Warnings: none ig ?
I don't justify any of Merle's behavior, it's just fiction !
And I'm really bad to "write accents" if it makes sense. So just imagine the dialogue with him with his accent.
@dixonsgirl93 I did it eheh thank you for giving me the motivation to write ! <33
----------------------------------------------------------
- You and Merle probably met at a bar. He's the very loud guy that tries to have his way with every person he wants to. He'd approach you kinda in the worst way possible but with his usual grin, you couldn't resist.
- He's not a bad guy, just not very refined in his compliments. "Sugar tits" "cute ass" "baby / baby girl/boy" etc are his favorite.
- Speaking of petnames, he loves it. He'll never call you by your name. Always "baby" or "darling". That can be annoying, when he does it to mess with you, but it's mostly adorable.
- He's the protective boyfriend™️. Always an eye on you, always ready to punch anyone who would mess with you or looking too much at you.
- You're his, and everyone must know it. If someone doesn't know, he'll think about it as a badly done job and would fix it by kissing you passionately.
- VERY TOUCHY. His first love language is physical touch. He always have a hand on you. Your hips, your ass,... Don't care. Marle always have the urge to touch you. He's also big on you sitting on his lap. He even acts offended if you prefer to sit on a chair.
- Don't let you do things. Not in a bad way though. But he's the one who pays for everything, who open the door, etc... He was raised like that. Even if it can annoy you sometimes, you understand that he does it to please you so you gladly let him do it for you.
- His view of love was not very healthy before he met you. He definitely was not the one to say the scare 3 words first. Before you, he thought that it meant being weak, and still kinda does.
But one day, you were both cuddling on his bed. No sex, which is rare, just a gentle moment between you two. He looked at you with so much love in his eyes.
"It's nice to have ya here..."
"I'm always at your house Merle", you responded with a chuckle
"Nah 'mean... In my life an' all ya know..", now he was starting to get flustered. He can say the dirtiest things with a straight face, but couldn't get open about his feelings without mumbling and blushing with shame.
"I know what you mean. I love you Merle"
You just smiled at him and put your head on his chest. It wasn't the first time that you've told him that you love him, and you knew that he loved you too back, he didn't needed to say it. You feel him kiss your hair and taking a deep breath.
" 'love ya too...", He mumbled.
He finally said it. You won't tease him about it yet, just enjoying this rare moment of peace with him.