748. it's always darkest before dawn

[mememaker]

HURT & COMFORT RP [EXPANDED 2.0]
Hurt/Comfort - Hurt/comfort is a fan fiction genre that involves the physical pain or emotional distress of one character, who is cared for by another character. The injury, sickness or other kind of hurt allows an exploration of the characters and their relationship.

- Post with Character Name | Series in the subject

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Daryl Dixon | The Walking Dead | open

[throwsquirrels]

15 and a very dusty Rick....

[officr_friendly]

The first night that Daryl was in the farmhouse it was decided that someone should sit with him, just in case there were any complications from the trauma that the redneck had been through. Rick was more than willing to volunteer. He owed Daryl as much for putting himself in so much danger in the search for Sophia. Rick blamed himself - he should have insisted on people going out in pairs.

The wooden chair and sideboard he was leaning against were by no means comfortable, but after a good hot meal and a little time to shut down, he was asleep with his head pillowed on one arm before the campfires he could see out of the window had even died down.

Aww, awesome. Always a pleasure playing off your Rick <3

[throwsquirrels]

Daryl had put up as much of a fight about this as he'd had in him. He was exhausted and aching, wanted to be left alone. Didn't know how to react to this kinda treatment. Hell, that delirious dream he'd had about Merle was still ringing in his ears, each word of it.

Figured the best thing he could do was sleep it off and get his strength back so by tomorrow, he could get the hell back out of this bed. With any luck anyway, even if it was to just go curl up in his tent.

He thought the dreams would've stopped, that he'd run himself ragged enough to just sleep like the dead, but... no such luck. He dreamed he'd rolled over, careful as he could, to his back and there was Merle, looming over the bed. His eyes were narrowed, his lips curled up in a sneer. "Surprised they didn't just put you down finally... even got you all fixed up, didn't they?"

Daryl let out a soft groan that he didn't know made it out of his dream and into real life, a muttered 'shut up'. "Guess that one pretty little girl tried though, huh, baby brother?"Daryl let

[officr_friendly]

It was the "no" that woke Rick. Something hard and determined. In the few seconds it took for him to get his bearings, something he was a lot quicker at doing these days now he no longer had somewhere he'd slept enough nights in to call home, he wondered if someone was getting hurt.

As soon as he pushed himself up and blinked the sleep out of his eyes, he realized what was going on. He could see Daryl laying in the bed, face to the ceiling, but asleep anyway.

He was clearly delirious. He could be easily reliving any number of events of the day.

Slowly, Rick got up. He fetched a cloth from a bowl of water that had been left in the room and carefully dabbed it over the hunter's forehead.

Hrrngh, apparently my notifs failed hardcore here

[throwsquirrels]

There were more mumbles, curses and threats to back off, to leave him alone. It wasn't all Merle anymore, so many damn faces... Walkers and before that even, before the whole damn end of the world.

He woke at the first touch of water, gasping as his eyes shot open. "Hey--" He growled the words weakly, reaching up to awkwardly grab at Rick's hand, wincing back from the touch.

"What's goin' on?"

18... Shit, son. D:

[kept_them_safe]

It had been part of the job once. By this point in his career, and even more so after the world had gone to Hell, Shane claimed that he had seen it all.

Finding Daryl in this state, with clear signs of what's happened to the man, one of the strongest links left in the chain they all built, was obvious.

Shane gags before he can even approach the younger Dixon. He covers his mouth with his palm, as if to hold back anything attempting to come out of his mouth, even comforting words.

What could be comforting in this world anyway?

Dude, I never got notifs here ]: And aww, dang. Poor Daryl.

[throwsquirrels]

Daryl's body ached and he could take that. He could take every jab of sharp pain whenever he shifted, he could take the sting and burn from what had happened. He could even take the ball of shame that was wound tight in his belly that he hadn't been able to fight in the end... been damn useless.

Scratch that, it was eating him up. Hated being weak, hated any damn one getting that much control over him, but he could shove it down.

What he couldn't handle was the fact someone found him still pathetically on the ground, still on his stomach with his pants shoved down around his ankles and bruises on his hips, every other damn bit of evidence that made his stomach turn.

"Don't you fuckin' say nothing," he finally managed, sounding as intimidating as he could manage when he finally pushed himself up, struggled to right his clothes. He had a bit of blood dripping down his face where he'd been whacked over the head, hands bloody from scratching and fighting, bruises every damn wear.

Felt like shit. "M'fine."