#featuring: rick grimes (wexarethewalkingxdead)

[esoterium]

@wexarethewalkingxdead || meme continuation || from here.

yeah. daryl can see the excuse for needing to go get a drop off for what it is. an excuse. a reason to get out. doesn't understand why rick can't outright say it for what it's worth. like daryl wouldn't get the desperate need to get outta these god damn walls and breathe when they feel like they're squeezing the life outta ya. he, of all people here, would get it. yet, rick seems to feel the need to feed him some line of bullshit to cover his tracks for disappearing the way he did.

daryl sees him. for who he truly is. he reads people. most people are easy. some make it a little harder. rick? rick he knows like he knows himself. probably better. so says the squint and tick of his chin accompanied by the little 'hmmfph' he gives that reason. thumb sticks between his front teeth. means he's mullin' over calling him out. takes his time thinking it through. weighing the pros and cons of opening up a can of worms that rick seems so desperate to keep closed.

this is about carl and he knows it is.

the ache in his chest swells up soon as he thinks of the name. sees the face attached to it in his mind's eye and promptly has to shut it off before he ends up getting lost in it. his thumb jerks away. moves with the rest of his hand to cup the back of his neck. looks like rick's getting off easy. for now. maybe later. his attention bounces to his bike and he snorts. "bout to go look fer your dumb ass. bein' gone that long fer a drop," he shoots him a level--do you know how many people you had worried including me--glare then sniffs in a breath.

"c'mon. let's go get breakfast then.. 'fore you go wanderin' off again."

[deputygonebye]

@wexarethewalkingxdead asked: ❛ you hit me! ❜

Toxic Relationships Sentence Starters || Rick Grimes

Fact broke the silence; the crackle of burned trees, the lift of dark smoke over clouds. Hushed the calls and chirps of birds, the songs of crickets hidden within the grasses, the frolic of wild deer between bush and briar. Dried pine leaves crushed underfoot, boots that had carried beyond the outskirts of a family farm, the boarder of fence and woodlands. Hershel's farm was no more. A memory more than a home, its barn burnt down but the road just near it still standing. Stable and secure - separated by small cracks to the gravel - safer than what waited back at the empty farm. A horde unlike any other; scattered bone and frayed flesh, persons considered family and friend. A graveyard that had yet to have its holes dug, rather above the dirt than six feet beneath, the exact place that Shane knew he would've ended up. Should've, would've, the tides turned in his favor for mercy but not quite finished. Judas not free; Cain unmarked.

Rick shattered the quiet. Louder than his steps did, his voice a growl, an animal wounded beyond the physical. More than just tattered clothes, the stains upon pants and the muck clung to old shoes. Conversation meant to be saved for later, recent events changed the entire game, the plan that had been enacted unsaid. Away from the rest of the group - surrounded by a fire that slowly dimmed - just the two of them, Shane and Rick. Features contorted into something hideous, bared teeth and snarl made Rick appear almost monstrous. A horrible picture for a beloved brother; obscene amongst shadows. A sight that was comparable to a nightmare. Powerful enough to turn Shane cold, his breath stolen from his lungs, the wind knocked out.

Protected by trees alone, their overhanging branches, Shane backed himself up further, kept as much space between himself and Rick as nature would allow. Elders Mill Road painted on a sign faded in white, several paces back from the way the group came, cars lined up. There was nowhere to run; all places to hide either charred or broken. Left temple colored still in purple bruises, shaped to Rick's fist, nose and the bridge were hued red. Fallen from chin to neck also, a stream colored crimson noted Shane as murderer. Akin to a rabid mutt, lips curled, unsure of the next move to be played either against or for him. Scared, afraid, suffocated upon the hatred; terrified for what had become of them. Brothers torn apart - Shane and Rick stranded at the edge of agony, apart but not so together.

"What the hell do you call what you did then, man?" Shane snapped, baritone a mangled cry, a wounded beast's wail. "You busted my damn teeth in!"

Shane sobbed, choked by the tension, tired of the unease. "What? You come back to finish what you started? You gonna punch me again, Rick, huh? Ain't no Randall to get in your way now. Come on. You wanna hit me? You wanna beat me like a dog? Come do it! Ain't got no farm to worry about. That's long passed. You got some shit you wanna get off your chest? Bring it on. Let's go! Just get it over with, Rick. I... I can't stand this. Just do it. Just fucking do it!"

[nomadical]

@wexarethewalkingxdead​ || semi-plotted starter || tagging: rick grimes

Boots came to a halt the second he heard someone entering the shop he’d taken up residence in for the past few evenings. Some apothecary that just kinda felt good to be in. He hasn’t seen a place like this in years. Most of them were raided. When people got desperate enough to know what was inside them. 

This one, though? This one was relatively untouched. Except a few looters taking some of the clothing from the racks out front. A few oils here and there but it must’ve been looked past due to the dust on the walls and the overly rusted sign out front that didn’t seem overly appealing to anyone who didn’t know what they were looking for.

But if you knew? And you inhaled the right way? You could still smell the old books and dozens of oils that’ve long since soaked into the floorboards from where they mixed them behind the counter. Or root through the shelves and find items to help sleep, ward off infection, and help with an ache and a pain or two. All those were gathered into his bags days ago but he stuck around.  Maybe that was a big mistake..

Should’ve continued on. Sticking in a place for long was never a good idea. Unless it was behind the walls at Hilltop and even then? Those got suffocating after a string of days looking at weatherworn metal and hearing the same voices, seeing the same faces and feeling locked in.

His bags were tucked away in the quiet. Floorboards that he could pull up (must’ve hid their money here back when money mattered) and a well worn rug overtop of them to cover up his stash. A stool sat on top of that. Knife gripped in his hand, he moved away from his spot and caught sight of a pair of legs moving by and took cover--bullets would make this fight uneven seeing as he had none--and his head rested back against the door to the cabinet underneath the counter.

--He’d wait this one out. Stay put. And with any luck? Whoever this was? Would move right on.

[esoterium]

@wexarethewalkingxdead || a meme from here! || accepting!

“i’m tired of pretending there isn’t something between us.” (from Rick to Carol)

they're in the middle of an argument. one that stemmed from somewhere that carol isn't sure where anymore. might've been about her staying back and watching over the place when they have more than enough able bodied people to do the job. or that he should be the one to stay put for a while longer because he's been going out too often and the last time he gave them all a scare because he got hurt and ended up out there longer than they all planned. her a scare. he gave her a scare. to the point she ended up leaving and going looking for him. but she found him. and that--folks--is why she's damn good at what she does.

carol's stubborn. she isn't going to back down even if she forgot about what started them off. her arms cross over her chest and she stands her ground with bare feet planted firmly on the kitchen floor. fierce eyes stare right into his. she's gotta look up to do it, but she does it anyway. because there's no fear there. of course not. he's rick. they've gone through their time of unsurety about one another. that's passed.

what they share now is..

oh...

'i'm tired of pretending there's isn't something between us.'

he says the quiet part out loud. that's where this started. isn't it? the nitpicking of little things. no one was going anywhere to begin with. they were arguing just to avoid.. this. rick, though? that bastard. called her right out on her bluff and had her snapping her lips closed and a look of being busted coming across her face with round eyes and a sudden shell-shocked expression. "rick..i.." lips form silently around words that don't happen. and then. at once. everything does.

she crosses over to him. hands lifting up to cup itchy five o'clock shadowed cheeks that she pulls in for a kiss that lands squarely right on his mouth. her heart, head, heels. lift right off the ground. two of those go soaring high and her head does a spin right up dizzy. "me, too. me, too. so what then? what now? you want me? is that it? then show me.." because she's so damn sick of lukewarm when it comes to people showing her what they feel for her. it's all or nothing. and he better be ready for that.

[esoterium]

@wexarethewalkingxdead || a meme from this here tag! || accepting!

[ DANCE ]:          when alone together (e.g. the bedroom, the kitchen, literally anywhere once they’re alone) the sender takes the receiver’s hand, and pulls them into a graceful yet intimate dance as a spontaneous act. (to Carol from Rick)

she's sitting there in the candlelight, watching the dark from outside the large bay window in the kitchen. her mind a million miles away and nowhere all at the same time. there's nothing bad troubling her thoughts on a night like this. just quiet contemplation. a silence that isn't macabre or sad. damn near close to contentment in how she's free enough from her burdens to just let things be this close to the witching hour. midnight having come and gone by the position of the moon in the sky.

her hair's pulled up in a messy bun at the back of her head. a loose nightgown hangs on her frame in a flattering, not frumpy way. she found it on a run. something that survived all these years from craftsmanship that wasn't factory made. whoever crafted this? did it by hand. put their heart and soul into the little shop they had in the small town outside alexandria. one that wasn't overly picked through because the clothes weren't high on passerbys lists at the time. only a few things missing here and there. more things from the back then the storefront itself. other than practical sorta clothing. not the more luxury stuff like nightgowns and sorts to treat yourself with.

she hears him humming as he comes into the room. rick. her head turns and takes in the sight of him. he's wearing the pair of pajamas she found from the same spot. they look normal. removed from the fraying planet beyond the walls. the years that it's been cut away by steel makes it seem so far off when it's right out there. so close but so warded off. their eyes meet and.. damn it. she can feel her cheeks heat up.

he's got her in a way she's let her guard down enough to do that now. it makes her tuck her chin down. a tendril of gray sways in front of her face. she doesn't make a move to tuck it back.

that's when his hand's offered and she, gladly, takes it. he gently tugs her to her feet and pulls her in. the humming continues. a little louder so she can feel it against her chest when he pulls her in. her hand rests between them, fingers curled against his chest. lips press to his cheek, his nose, his chin before her forehead rests against the tip of his nose as they begin to sway. close enough she can feel his body move against hers. feel him breathe. and that vibration of his hum is always there. always present..

"...you best be careful. you sure do know how to make a woman fall for you, mister grimes. you know that? s'dangerous." humor tickles the edges of her warning. and then a light chuckle.