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The hunter sighs as he sheaths his knife, lips forming a soft pout as he relaxes in Shane’s grip. He gives a grunt and nods, eyes shutting as he exposes more of his neck for the other man, hands coming up to grip his arms.   ❛❛  Ain’t gettin’ jealous are ya?  ❜❜  

 

 ❛❛  M’whole life, actually. ❜❜  The messy haired archer replies after looking up from his crossbow, tilting his head at the woman before shrugging and wiping an arrow off on his pants leg, frowning at the blood.   ❛❛  Brother taught me how’ta hunt. Been doin’ it forever.  ❜❜  

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He wasn’t one for sharing bits and parts of his life, but Carol always nags him about being reclusive. That if he didn’t want people to be afraid of him he’d have to open up a bit… May as well try to be nice. The best he can.   ❛❛  Wanna try?  ❜❜  

 
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Okay, so they were on a mission… But pretty rocks were a little more important at the moment. WATER could wait.   ❛❛  Nut-uh. Yer eyes are like amber-  ❜❜  The shimmering reddish brown rock is held up for better view, and Daryl’s sharing her smile as he quirks a brow in hopefulness.   ❛❛  Pretty, right?  ❜❜  

 

If you LOVE something, you gotta let it go. Wasn’t that the time old saying? Passed on by grandma to momma to son. And Daryl had always thought they were talking about butterflies or a bird the nursed back to health, just to release it into back the wild. Now he really knows what it means. 

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 ❛❛  I can help ya look for somethin’ if ya want. ❜❜  He offers, giving his famous crooked smile - and at this point, he’s an expert at hiding the hurt. Rick was happy, so it made Daryl happy. He didn’t have time to be JEALOUS. There wasn’t anything to be jealous of in the first place. They didn’t have that kind of relationship

 

He shrugs  ❛❛  Don’t mean we gotta mope all the time. Yer like yer daddy in that way. Both serious as hell.  ❜❜   The hunter muses as he follows Carl’s gaze off past the horizon, hoping to see that familiar head of curly hair soon.

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 He can’t help but worry- and he knows both Grimes men share that trait. A crooked grin is given when Carl inquires about the joke.  ❛❛  A stick. Get it?  ❜❜   Okay. Maybe it wasn’t comedy gold, but at least he was trying to lighten the mood. 

 
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Jesus Christ.   ❛❛  Yer gonna fuckin’ KILL me one of these days…  ❜❜  The archer mumbles as he rubs at his upper arm, easing the soreness caused by HOURS of stabbing walkers, that seemed to multiply like rabbits.   ❛❛  Bastard’s prob’ly gardenin’ or s’mthin’…  ❜❜  

 
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That has him stopping again, head dropping as he sighs and rubs at the bridge of his nose with his free hand, the other stabbing another walker even without Daryl looking.  And despite it all, he’s chuckling, shooting Shane a playful glare as he flips him off.  ❛❛  Shut the hell up, Shane.  ❜❜  

 
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The Hunter huffs and rolls his eyes, lips forming a slight pout as he shoves at the young man’s shoulder.  ❛❛  Shuddup, I don’t see you comin’ up with nothin’.  ❜❜  Daryl sighs, giving him a wary look, then smacks the hat off his head in a playful manner.  ❛❛  Ya too damn serious, kid. Lighten up a bit will ya?  ❜❜  

 

Guilt burned in his belly like steaming apple cider, and anything reassuring seemed to simmer in it until it made his stomach hurt. Glenn’s death was his fault, and there was nothing anyone could say that would change that or would take that guilt away. If he didn’t move, if he’d only kept a damn lid over that bubbling rage, Glenn would still be alive.

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Reassuring words fell on deaf ears everytime they were thrown at him. Nothing could change what had already been done, and part of him was pissed people were even trying to ease his burden, even if they were only trying to help.

The great thing about Hershel? He didn’t sugarcoat shit like most people did. He had a way of saying things like his daddy did, yet they it was never to put him down or belittle him- the old man seemed to actually care about him. That was way more than his daddy ever did for him. And maybe it was fucked up to think of Hershel as a father figure, but they were in the apocalypse; there wasn’t time to rationalize things.

  ❛❛  Ain’t like I dunno that, man. I’m fine.  ❜❜  

 
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❛❛  You’re such a dick.  ❜❜  The hunter admonishes with a huff, yet there’s a glimpse of a smile curling the edge of his mouth as he drives his knife through another walker, then pauses as he regards the other man.   ❛❛  I don’ think it’s good t’get more targets, man.  ❜❜  More walkers, more pressure on the stupid fence. 

 

if you shoot me again

"I've never... never eaten frozen yogurt. Never had a pet pony. Never got nothing from Santa Claus. Never relied on anyone for protection before. Hell, I don't think I've ever relied on anyone for anything".

you best pray

ind. sel. pri rp blog for Daryl Dixon from AMC's The Walkig Dead, canon divergent and heavily based on headcanons.
adored by Lyns.

I'm dead

EST 08.22.17
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