❝ c̶h̶u̶p̶a̶c̶a̶b̶r̶a̶ ❞

❝ --- wait there. pull yourself out of this state, dear. acknowledge that you were a fake, here. from there on you might just grow.❞     indie rp blog for daryl dixon of amc's the walking dead. currently caught up on the show and a bit behind on the comics, but accepting threads inspired by both. mutuals only. blog is NSFW read the rules carefully.

[o188]

                 i don’t want to face the world in tears.

                                                [ detective dominick “sonny” carisi of law & order: svu ]

[killedpeople]

  the roleplay fandom needs a motherfucking boost in positive vibes, and overall treatment of each other. this fandom has become a cesspool of hate, and i figured i’d do something fun to combat it. there’s no official way to participate, just do what you can to make those around you feel good.

3/28 — FIRST DAY TUESDAY; get the message spread around the roleplay fandom.

3/29 — SECOND DAY WEDNESDAY; send love to blogs you admire from afar, or consider close friends via the inbox or submit option.

3/30 — THIRD DAY THURSDAY; post something positive about yourself and your portrayal, we all need our own self love before we can do anything else.

3/31 — FOURTH DAY FRIDAY; promote your fellow fandom writers via reblogging their promos.

4/1 — FIFTH DAY SATURDAY; pledge something you’ll do to make the fandom a better place.

4/2 — SIXTH DAY SUNDAY; the finale!!!! keep an upbeat attitude while liveblogging.

[tracksfeared-blog]

                    “ Ｍ＇ＳＯＲＲＹ． ”

[aseaofquotes]

Janet Fitch, White Oleander

[pythcn]

i  am   NOTHING   without  pretend,   i  know  my   THOUGHTS ;   can’t  live   WITHOUT   them.     i  know  my   FAULTS   but  i  can’t   HIDE   them.     i  still   keep  my   BABY TEETH   in  my  bedside  jewelry.     i  don’t  need  another   FRIEND   when  most  of  them  i  can  barely  keep  up  with.     i’m   PERFECTLY   able  to   HOLD   my  own  hand,   but  i  still  can’t  kiss  my  own  NECK.

                                                                        ind.  priv.  rick  grimes

[gideonsharrow-deactivated202107]

everything okay?

[tracksfeared-blog]

pythcn:

@tracksfeared  / /  CLOSED  STARTER.

there’s  an  uncertainty  in  the  air  between  them.     maybe  it  was  a  space  where  knowledge  had  been  missing;     where  communication  had  been   HALTED   between  them,   daryl  getting  hauled  away  to  the  saviour’s  lair.    rick  looks  at  daryl  seeing  how  it’s  changed  him.     the   DAMAGE   it’d  done,   the  emotion  it’d  brought.     or,   lack  there  of.     rick  looks  at  the  man  with  sympathetic  eyes.     but  he  knows  daryl  is   STRONG   and  this  is  yet  another  feat  for  him  to  conquer.     their  body  language  speaks  for  them  lately,   it  seems.     eyes  communicate,   looking  at  him  as  he  knows  what  the  saviors  are  capable  of.     hell,  he’d  experienced  it  first  hand.     ‘  haven’t  heard  much  out  of  you.  ‘     rick  notes  out  loud,   realizing  it  was  an  obvious  statement  but  questionable  nonetheless.     ‘  you   GOOD?  ‘

daryldixon's mouth suddenly becomes full of little LIES -- things that threaten to burst from his lips as though they were hurtful hornets but he steels himself; he knows BETTER. it was easy to deny his state of being to those who wanted to hear anything but the TRUTH. carol had seen him, had seen the bandage that covered the HOLE in his shoulder but smiled and cried tears of honest thankfulness when he told her everyone was fine. she would learn otherwise and it would KILL her, one way or another. he was all too willing to prevent that for as long as possible but GRIMES didn't want any bullshit; his eyes looked and saw THROUGH daryl before he could conjure up a single note.

he asks because he already knows the ANSWER.

" ... ain't got much t'say." it doesn't feel like a LIE but he knows that it isn't enough -- even avoids LOOKING back at rick to avoid catching his stare and looking GUILTY. a habit he has with almost everyone, now.

[tracksfeared-blog]

its-negan-bitch:

Out of all things the other does, it’s the goddamn KNEELING that sets Negan off in a fit of pure anger. Sure–he knows he’s doing right by demanding discipline from each of the men here and he can’t help to enjoy the sight of Daryl broken. But it claws at his throat–making the feeling known to Negan that the sight of the broken, weakened archer in his doorway is not natural.

Fingers curl around the fabric of a covered shoulder, jerking Daryl up to a standing position and forcing blue to meet hazel.  His grip is tight upon the fabric of the archer’s shirt, making the other aware of Negan’s irritation.

“You’re M I N E, understand? No one else’s. You live, sleep, and fuckin’ breathe with me.”

Negan's rage flows through cotton as he is suddenly lifted from his kneeling stance, the motion so sudden and yet Dixon's lashes don't so much as bat. Blues stare forward but for a moment they see nothing, search for nothing. It takes a moment for words to settle in properly but even with an understanding of the English language, Daryl has a hard time grasping the full meaning of what is spoken. Neganowned him, now. That was something that was well-known. There was no denying it -- not with the way that the hunter usually stayed within the boundaries of Negan's shadow. Not with the way he answered his every call.

The other man had played too rough with his toy and broken it, and now he was throwing a tantrum. Jealous over something unseen. Daryl keeps his silence and simply stares on and starts to honestly search Negan's face for some sign -- for anything that he can use to start and understand the emotions right in front of him. He finds possessiveness and something he doesn't want to put a label on. Something he'd much rather avoid.

Hands stay at his sides though his right does twitch due to muscle memory, due to being so used to swinging. When he fought, Negan did everything to get him to kneel. When he'd kneel, Negan would do everything to try and get him fighting again. It is a push and pull that continues to exhaust Dixon. A push and pull that threatens to do more damage than what can be fixed.

He's still stumbling over the confession. Snagged on it. Stuck. “M’yers.” It’s spoken quietly but at least Daryl seems to be present, not simply on some kind of auto-pilot. That old fire threatens to spark in his eyes as he watches carefully, each word coming out barely above a whisper but they are a challenge. “What more d’y’want?”

[grincarved]

[grincarved]

grincarved:

                                   MAD DOG OFF THE LEASH

[tracksfeared-blog]

officxrfrixndly:

          “Been talkin’ to Maggie.” Rick held out a half eaten chocolate bar to the archer, who sat in silence manufacturing his very own arrows. After coming back from the Sanctuary Daryl had kept mostly to himself, which was beginning to worry all those around him. “She said you’ve been avoidin’ her.” The whole time, Rick kept his gaze on the field ahead. But after a brief silence, he tilted his head towards his friend, forcing their eyes to meet. “It ain’t on you, you know?” he said calmly, features kind and sympathetic. “No one blames you.”

@tracksfeared ❤’d

Maggie's name is mentioned and Daryl visibly hesitates as he reaches for the sweet treat offered; shoulders suddenly carrying a tension that finds his jaw just the same. Rather than bite into sugar he finds himself fiddling with the wrapper, stuck in a certain kind of forced silence as he nervously listens to Rick's voice. Eyes are kept on foil and paper as a ball threatens to form in his throat the more the other man speaks. Daryl swallows, tries to force it down -- tries to mute the rush of thoughts, words he hasn't and won't say.

The others don't blame him but he blames himself.

Eyes meet and he can't stop the flood, the tears that suddenly well up. He can't stop the way that his hands and lower lip tremble. When he breathes in and out the air is unsteady and he tries to nod, tries to acknowledge words and sentiment alike but he fails.

"... I ---"  Voice cracking, his head bows and he has to bite down on his lower lip to keep from totally spilling over. "S'my fault."

[officxrfrixndly-archived-blog]

    ❝ ᴡᴇ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ɪᴛ. ᴡᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ.                 ᴡᴇ'ʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇs ᴡʜᴏ ʟɪᴠᴇ. ❞

ɪɴᴅɪᴇ & sᴇʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ʀɪᴄᴋ ɢʀɪᴍᴇs ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ʙʏ ᴍᴀʀᴜ

[notamusicsnob]

Visit Original Link

Pull yourself out of this state, dear.

[spilledblood-a]

                — there’s a compound bow and a machete with a red handle.                                  that’s what i’m gonna use to kill you.

[leolovemail-blog]

send me a ⭐ if im one of your favorite mutuals and explain why

[whltewqlf-deactivated20190425]

Thoughtful portrait

[tracksfeared-blog]

                                     ◤ the walking dead discord chat ◢                                come join us as we watch season 7, episode 14!                                                                    ▸please follow the chat rules                                                   ▸anyone is welcome!                                               please spread this post! the more the merrier!

[tracksfeared-blog]

The creature doesn't fit entirely within the clawfoot tub; arms and a large fin hanging over the sides and dripping water onto the floor. There is irritation written all over his face and even in scales that seem slightly risen. Above a showerhead drips and occasionally drizzles a stream down onto a damp crown. He's stuck, there. Kept, there. A pet grown too large for one cage and in need of another --- but, oh, it isn't that simple. Daryl sits, impatient. Anger threatening to boil the very water The Governor keeps him in. This is only temporary, sure --- a promise he knows the man will keep for the sake of keeping him hidden away, but he can't help but hate the circumstance as a whole.

It's almost suffocating, being kept in such a way. Being without his precious treasure. Being stuck.

When he hears footsteps he expects his visitor to be his captor but instead, he finds a rather mousey-looking man staring down at him. Humans. They always stared, at first. But Daryl -- Daryl starts right in with a glare.

"An' who're you supposed to be?"                                                               { mer!verse starter for @hisadvisor }