#spillcdblood

[boltsandashes2]

After || closed

@spillcdblood

There’s a body by the edge of the river. Daryl’s not sure how long he’s been standing here, legs locked at the end of a stride. He’s not even sure why he’s frozen. Why his ears are buzzing with the sound of his own heartbeat. Why his whole brain feels dull with shock. This is what he’d come here looking for. Something to bury. Something to honor Rick, keep his memory going. ‘Cause he sure as hell deserves to be honored.

And he deserves more than to become one of the walking dead, wandering the wilderness ‘til his body collapses with rot. Daryl needs to do this for him. Owes him that much, after everything.

The body twitches, and Daryl’s breaths hitch unsteady. He blinks hard, shakes himself out of the dull stall, forces his legs to start forward.

A bolt to the head would be easier. Keeping distance. Not having to look the closest thing he has to a brother in his filmed-over eyes. But a bolt isn’t what you do for family, and Daryl’s failed him enough today.

Rick’s body is half-lost in the river, snarling corpses still drifting past. Daryl’s knees go damp when he drops to the muddy earth over Rick’s head.

“Sorry.” He pulls the knife from his belt. Cradles the side of Rick’s head with a careful hand. The skin feels warm still, feverish, burns and bruises all down his arms and a bloody mess in his side that must’ve happened some time before the bridge. When Daryl had left him. Hadn’t had his back. Had driven him out to that damn spot in the first place. “Shit, I shoulda...”

But that doesn’t matter. Apologies don’t matter. Rick’s gone and back to life already, skin grey from blood loss and head shifting faintly against Daryl’s palm. He doesn’t give a shit that Daryl wishes things were different. There’s no space in this world left for wishing.

His fingers stroke down Rick’s neck, bracing his head straight. He lifts the knife... and freezes as he takes in Rick’s face.

Sweat-sheened. Skin feverish. And hell, chest rising and falling just barely. Pulse pounding thready in his throat. Somehow, impossibly, despite everything...

“Not dead.”

[safetydoesntexist]

it had been days, maybe even weeks since she saw another human being  — loosing track of time through sunrises and sunsets. she didn’t turn back once, knowing negan would send his men out to find her, to find daryl. staying off the roads, she tracked through the woods, stopping only once in a small shack she found. it wasn’t long before she was back on her feet though, and it wasn’t more than a few hours later that she came across what looked like a small community. she was a bit hesitant to make herself known, but she didn’t have much of a choice  — she was running out of food and water.

slowly stepping from her hiding spot, she raised her arms to show she wasn’t a threat.   ❛ i’m not here to hurt anyone  — I just need somewhere to stay for a few days. can I please speak to whoever’s in charge?  ❜

starter for @spillcdblood .

[peacefulapostle--a]

@spillcdblood  ||  carl starter call

        ‘the crops  are  doing  fairly  well,  dad.  we  could  have  plenty  of  food  just  in  time  to  stock  up  for  winter.’  the  war  is  over  and  they  are  able  to  BREATHE.  everything  that  has  happened  and he  is  far  more  proud  of  his  dad  than  he  could  ever  HOPE to  be.  they’ve  started  to  rebuild.  make  a  LIFE  for  themselves  and  food  is  first  and  foremost.  look  towards  the  future  because  NOW.  now  this  is  what  comes  after.  ‘we’re  just  starting,  but  i  know  it’ll  all  work  out  in the  end.”  his  outlook  is  hopeful  and  knowing  that  his  father  spared  negan  only  leads  him  to  believe  that  the  leader  wants  what  he  does. 

[eveofcarnage-blog]

     ❝Trying to intimidate me, John Wayne? I’m gonna warn ya, I don’t scare easy, hillbilly. I’ll work with you. I’ll be on your side, as long as it suits me.❞ Tilting her head back, Eve smiled sweetly. “And when it doesn’t, I’ll stab you in the back.”

@spillcdblood​

[takenpeace]

@spillcdblood  || starter call

  “I’m  not  sure  what  to  make  of  it,  Rick.  I  don’t  remember much.  Just  that  whatever  it  was  ducked  when  I  swung  at  it  and  then  NOTHING.  It  just goes  black.”  Only  thing  else  he  knows  is  what  he  heard  of  Aaron  scream  but  nothing  else  and  he’s  keeping  that  to  himself. It’s  stuck  with  him  since  it  happened.  “They  told  me  about  people  wearing  walker skin  or  masks.  Just  one  minute  it  was  a  walker  and  then  the  next  it  was  ducking.  Walkers  don’t  duck.  it  was  a  person.” 

[xhellxboundx]

Had I known...||Closed

@spillcdblood

The gaps in his memory and the missing time...

...it was getting old already. Hershel told him it was probably from the brain damage the bullet had caused. He avoided people most of the time...so he thought...more than once he’d come to with people giving him odd, even concerned looks. They were afraid of him. He knew it. He focused on getting himself in peak physical condition, then he’d leave. He couldn’t afford any other incident, but he’d called Rick Billy again, called Carl Frankie. It broke him down, it was why he was there training. He’d been there for hours, but sometimes he didn’t notice how time passed. He got lost in his own brain, lost in the past.  This time he looked up and there was Rick. He could see it on Rick’s face before this very moment that eventually they were going to have to talk. Rick wasn’t stupid, and Frank didn’t have the mental energy to keep up the Shane charade. Though some of the thing he has been told he did and said, but didn’t remember were suspiciously...Shane like. Something was very wrong, and he knew it, but he didn’t know what, “Took ya long enough,” he said simply, any traces of that Southern Drawl Shane had were gone, he let go of the rusty bar he’d been using to do pull ups and dropped to the ground, unhooking the cinder blocks he used as weights. 

[stormlit]

( @spillcdblood )

        he trudges through the snow as though his legs are made of lead, dragging behind him where he walks; eugene doesn’t remember the last time he slept for a decent length of time, and with the cold having made its way through to his bones, he figures it’s best to just keep moving, try to keep his blood pumping so that the second there’s another artillery strike, he doesn’t have to thaw himself first. ( he needs some gloves for these hands of his. it’s real hard to stitch a fella up when you got icicles for fingers. ) 

        the red of his armband --- and his nose --- stands out as gene crouches down beside a hole. not easy company, but a neighbour, and that’ll just have to do.  ❝ sergeant, you--- ❞ nearby, the ground explodes, and a rain of earth scatters down over them; eugene jumps into the hole out of instinct, turtling down beneath his helmet, ears peeled for an echoing call of medic. it’s quiet...but it ain’t all that usual to have just the one stray round, is it?   ❝ they gon’ come back with more? ❞

[xxtakinitlikeachampxx-archi-blog]

*Flicks Four Index Cards Through The Bars At Rick* @spillcdblood

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