dear_mun | voice testing.

[ hurt flickers across his face when his hand falls off his brother's shoulder. guess he should've known that his hands aren't made for comfort. ]

I've always cared, [ he says through clenched teeth. ] I'm the only one who's ever gave a shit about you! Your buddies at the prison don't really care about ya, not like I do.

[ "do"? what are tenses? ]

Face it, man, I'm all you've got.

[He doesn't miss that look and in fact feels a little bad about it, but he can't accept the comfort right now. Shit, he can't accept comfort ever, who's he kidding?

And he isn't about to argue over whether or not the group gives a shit about him; never mind the fact that he doesn't actually know if they do or they don't, he's with them. He gives a shit about them. Besides, he's more interested in where Merle's apparent care has led him- there's no questioning that.]

Yeah? Guess that don't leave me with a whole hell of a lot, does it?

[It doesn't come out nearly as pissed off as he wants it to, but he'll take what he can get.

It's just like when they were kids... Even though he'd wanted to believe that Merle following him back to the prison had been a chance to start again, he should have known better. There are no second chances, not for either of them.]

You still left, bro.

[And what does that say about Daryl...?]

[ goddammit, daryl. ]

Clearly I was blessed with the brains and the looks.

[ clenching his fist and gritting his teeth, merle takes another step towards his brother, but this time he doesn't lay a hand on him, he just looks him in the eyes and says: ]

I left for you, little brother. Sheriff Rick didn't have the spine to hand the nigger bitch over to The Governor, I did; however, halfway there I realized that givin' Michonne to that messed up sonuvabitch wasn't gonna accomplish anythin', so I let her go, went and had myself a nice, long drink, and then I went after him...'cause I figured if I killed him, then all would be forgiven. [ taking a few steps backwards, he tilts his head and spits near his feet. telling daryl all of that was...difficult to say the least, but at least now his baby brother knows the truth, so maybe he can forgive him. eventually. ] So you see, I did choose a side. I chose you. You and your crew.

[ you happy now, bro? ]

Edited (~ BANANA PUDDING! ~) 2013-03-28 22:30 (UTC)

[There was a time when that muscle twitching in Merle's jaw and the clenched fists might have made Daryl back down... But that time is past, and so he holds his ground, stubbornly tilting his chin up and narrowing his eyes. If they're gonna go, they're gonna go; he can handle a fist fight if that's what Merle wants to do... And so he's steeling himself to get his ass handed to him, becuase let's be real, here: that's what's gonna happen.

He's ready for a brawl, but what he gets is... Something else entirely.

Merle starts talking. And keeps right on talking, and hell if it isn't the most Daryl's heard out his mouth that doesn't involve sex, drugs, or beating someone's ass in god only knows how long. ...Well, okay, it has some of those elements, but the fact that they're all background noise isn't something he was prepared for. Daryl keeps quiet, body still tensed and ready to throw down up until the second his brother backs away. His own hands had clenched into fists (when did that happen?) and by the time Merle's finished with his tirade they're curled so tight he can feel his blunt nails pressing crescents into his palms. He feels sick and he's shaking slightly, and holding that eye contact is the hardest thing he's ever had to do. For a few seconds, all he can do is stare, blink, and chew the inside of his lip to shit, and then:]

Stupid son of a bitch!

[He launches himself at Merle, one of those fists pulling back and aiming a sloppy hook to his jaw before he has a chance to remind himself of the world of hurt he's gonna be in for. He's never been much for melee fighting, and he knows better than to think he could overpower his brother who has both weight and experience on him, but right now he couldn't give less of a fuck. All he knows is that he doesn't know how to deal with that, and this is the only outlet he's got.]

[ lbr, merle could have easily dodged his brother's attack; he doesn't.

he deserves to have the shit kicked out of him. hell, he deserves a hell of a lot more than that, but for now he'll just have to take what he can get until he grows tired of getting his ass kicked, and then he'll retaliate, which'll make him feel like a ginormous cunt, buuut there we go. ]

[ bringing his hand up to his face, he gives his jaw a quick rub, then he laughs loudly in amusement. ]

That all you got? Come on, Darylina, hit me like a man!

[ ...ladies and gentlemen, merle "ridiculously fucked up" dixon. ]

Come on, boy, take another swing, show me what you're made of, you weak, little prick.

[ the words taste like ashes in his mouth, but doesn't dare take them back. maybe a part of him wants daryl to hate him. things would be so much easier if his little baby brother could just let him go. ]

What're you waiting for?! Hit me! [ he yells, deliberately stepping into his brother's personal space to try and draw a reaction out of him. ]

Edited (TAG FAIL :@) 2013-03-29 01:09 (UTC)

[The surprise Daryl'd felt at Merle's little speech is nothing compared to the surprise of his fist actually making contact with the side of his brother's face. It makes him stumble a bit; he'd been ready to move out of the way of a responding punch, not for it to actually follow through. In fact, he's stunned enough that he doesn't immediately start swinging away, only opens and closes his fist a few times until he can feel his fingers again.

The stuff Merle's saying is all trash talk- goading him, he knows, he's been dealing with it all his life- but fuck if it doesn't crawl right up under his skin anyway. It straight pisses him off even though it's nothing new and sure as hell isn't the worst he's ever heard. Still, fuming but with a mind to keep Merle from winning and getting more of a rise out of him than he already has, he's making a pretty valiant effort not to keep right on swinging, even though he really, really wants to...

And then Merle steps into his space (because no one knows how to push his fucking buttons like his brother does) and his resolve to keep this from going any further all but evaporates. Nostrils flaring, his voice is low and carries a definite warning tone:]

Get outta my face, man. [And he gives him a hard shove, when he doesn't back off. Keep testing him...]

[ merle is a shitty brother. he can bang on and on about how he's all that his brother has got, but at the end of the day that isn't true. daryl has a family. a real honest-to-god family. and, merle would be a liar if he said he wasn't the least bit jealous of that. guess it doesn't really matter now though, does it? since he's, you know, dead. ]

[ whatever. ]

Make me.

[ momentarily tearing his eyes away from his younger brother's, merle quickly and efficiently removes the bayonet from his prosthetic arm, then he tosses it to the ground before invading his brother's personal space again. ]

There. Now I'm unarmed, just like you. [ rolling his tongue around his mouth, he positions himself with his feet shoulder width apart and to prepare himself for the sharp sting of daryl's fist. ] So come on, baby brother, quit acting like a bitch and throw a goddamn punch already.

[ his blood is beginning to boil under skin, and it isn't because daryl is refusing to fight, it's because he loathes himself. he hates himself for all of the dirty little things he's done, he hates himself because he's nothing but dirt, but mostly he hates himself for not being the kind of brother that daryl deserves.

shaking with anger, a red mist slowly begins to descend and without even thinking about what his next move is going to be, merle dives forward with the intent of wrapping his strong arms around daryl's torso to tackle him to the ground. ]

[Shitty though he undoubtedly is (most of the time), Merle's the only brother Daryl's got... Or at least he was, until he decided to grow some compassion or a conscience or whatever the fuck else it was that'd made him decide "yep, today's the day I finally do what I've been threatening to do my entire life with one bad idea after another, and run out and get myself killed". And for no fucking reason, see, that's the part Daryl's having the most trouble with. It didn't have to be this way, if he'd just waited, just chilled the fuck out and used his god damn head for a second...

But he didn't. He never does, and this time it'd done more than land him downtown with the other drunks for the night or upstate for a few months with another crowd altogether. He'd gone and fucked it all up, and now Daryl's paying for it. Again. And he's pissed.

He's so pissed he's barely paying attention to Merle unstrapping that crazy arm of his, and he certainly isn't registering a damn word his brother's saying... For all Daryl knows, he could be proposing they go and get a beer, but it doesn't really matter because Merle's in his space and running his fucking mouth again, and that's all he needs; Merle lunges at him just as he's throwing another punch, a slightly off center jab that was aiming for his nose but probably ends up somewhere in the vicinity of his cheek. If it lands, it's nothing but a glancing blow before they both topple backwards. There's a painful sounding thud as Daryl's back hits the ground, a grunt as the air's pushed out of his lungs, and then more swearing.]

Fuck you, get the fuck offa me--!

[He's just gonna swing his hands and hope he catches you in the eye, Merle.]

[ ignoring the painful ache in his jaw, he splays his hand across his brother's shoulder, then he leans forward, using his all of his weight to keep daryl pinned to the ground.

brawling is something that merle has always been good at. when he and daryl were kids, he can remember being able to kick his little brother's ass with his both of his eyes closed and one hand tied behind his back.

apparently some things never change. ]

Shut up.

[ nostrils flaring, teeth clenched, he swiftly raises his prosthetic arm to parry his little brother's attack, then he counterattacks by moving his arm down and aiming his elbow toward his brother's face. ]

M'gonna knock your teeth out, boy.

[ more meaningless trash talk. because he can. ]

[Make no mistake: Daryl's as lethal as they come, more than capable of busting skulls and breaking noses... But there's something about Merle that just makes him regress to a time when all he'd had was his anger and no such skills to speak of, and maybe that's why he can't, for the life of him, seem to throw his two-ton brother off of him. He's never won a fight with Merle in his life, and it doesn't look like he's about to start now.

Jerking his head away from that elbow, he reaches up to shove at Merle's face as he wriggles pointlessly to try and knock him off balance.]

Get the fuck off- [And he aims a cheap shot at Merle's gut, since he's occupied with that elbow and the hand at his shoulder.] Son of a bitch-

[ dirt and dust begins to rise up from the ground as merle struggles to keep his brother pinned to the ground.

daryl is almost as strong as he is, but he's nowhere near as skilled in hand-to-hand combat, which is why merle (thankfully) manages to avoid being punched in the gut gut; however, the shoving is starting to become a bit irritating, so grabs a fistful of his daryl's shirt and yanks his brother towards him, then he draws back his prosthetic arm, readying himself to drive his fist straight into daryl's face, but then something strange happens. instead of beating the crap out of his kid brother, merle lowers his arm and takes a deep breath.

this fight is pointless. he isn't going to gain anything from rearranging daryl's face. well, except a surge of guilt, of course.

pressing his lips together, he takes a moment to calm himself down. his temper has always got the best of him, but this time he refuses to let his rage to consume him. ]

I'm sor-- Shit. You're a mess, brother, and I'm-- Fuck, I don't even know who or what I am any more.

[ shifting slightly, he digs his knees into the dirt and hooks his prosthetic arm around daryl's back, then he places his hand on the back of daryl's neck and tilts his head forward so their foreheads are pressed together. ]

It's time to let me go, D. I'm a piece of shit and...I just hold you back.

[Daryl doesn't even blink when that fist is raised; just scowls up at Merle obstinately, daring him to do it already if he's gonna. There's a trickle of blood at his lip- he must have bitten it when he'd landed on the ground, hell if he remembers- and his breathing is slightly labored, both from the weight on his chest and the exertion, and honestly? He just wants to get on with it. He's hurting already (just not in a way he knows how to handle) and so frankly, looking after his rearranged face would give him something else to concentrate on, something simple, the kind of pain that makes him look tough, not a fucking pussy crying in the corner.

He needs this, and he's ready for it--

But the blow doesn't come. Instead, there's a half apology, and then, ubelieveably, horribly, some of that anger drains from his brother's face, and he knows he isn't getting off that easy. Does he ever...?]

Merle, what the hell- [And he tries his very best to shrink away from the contact that comes next, melt into the dirt to escape but he can't seem to manage it; for all his struggling, all he can do is tense up, every muscle in his body protesting this...

Until finally, he gives in, sagging and letting out the long, shaky breath he'd been holding.]

What if I don't wanna?

[What if he can't?]

[ this type of physical contact is highly unusual for merle, so naturally he feels a little awkward and out of his comfort zone though he doesn't show it.

breathing heavily, his grip on his brother becomes a fraction tighter. daryl means the world to him and if he was able to rewind time then he wouldn't have gone after the governor alone. no, wait, that's a lie. if he could rewind time then he'd just make the same mistake all over again because he's stubborn, stupid and violently protective of his little brother. ]

Y'gotta. It's for the best. Deep down you know I'm right, don't cha?

[If Merle's out of his comfort zone, Daryl's at a gay mens' knitting club meeting; he can't remember the last time he'd been this close to anyone, let alone his brother, in a capacity that hadn't included fists being hurled... Or knives being driven into skulls. The memory's still fresh enough that it makes Daryl's hands shake, and until he manages to get a grip he could swear there's blood on his hands, too.

In fact, all of him is shaking, a slight tremor as his breathing goes ragged at the tightening of Merle's grip. Letting his head drop to his brother's shoulder, he picks his hands up and sets them like he's gonna shove him away... But he can't make himself do it.

And it's a god damn good thing he'd moved his face out of sight; there's moisture prickling at his eyes now and fuck if it isn't the most humiliating moment in his life. He isn't about to start bawling like a child, though, not if he can help it, and so he takes a few breaths to compose himself (hoping Merle doesn't notice), before he opens his mouth to answer.]

I don't gotta do nothin'.

[...The and you can't make me goes unsaid. That stupid, stubbornness gene clearly runs in the family.]

[ for once in his life, merle is actually trying to talk and...open up, but needless to say, he isn't very good at it.

a low sound of discontent elicits from the back of merle's throat. why the hell does his pain-in-the-ass little brother have to be so fucking difficult? ]

Come on, little D, quit being a stubborn bastard.

[ gradually pulling back, he lowers his arms before climbing to his feet. lines of frustration begin to appear on his forehead, and as soon as he's reached his full height, he stuffs his hand into his pocket and turns away from his brother. ]

Get outta here, man.

[Being difficult? That's what little brothers are for, didn't you get the memo? They exist solely to be a pain in the ass, follow you around, look for your approval... All the fun shit.

Daryl's hands drop to his sides as Merle pulls away, and instantly he regrets not holding onto him, just for a second longer. But the moment's gone and before he knows it, all he has to show for this is his brother's back and an ache in his chest.

He shoves himself up then- because what else is he supposed to do?- and stares at his brother's figure, wondering how in the hell it'd come to this. No one was supposed to be able to kill Merle but Merle, god dammit... Not his brother.

At a loss for words, he crosses his arms over his chest, though he doesn't turn away just yet. He doesn't know what to do with himself, really, and maybe that's why he feels some of that anger and frustration sinking back in. In any case, he scowls as he finds his voice again.]

Fine.

[Great comeback there, Daryl. Really stellar.]

voice testing.

i needed an outlet for my daryl/merle feels, okay? dealwithit.gif

samesies, man, samesies. watch for exploding feels, ahhh

/holds you

/weeping forever t b q h

STAHP! ARE YOUR TRYING TO KILL ME?!

X____X

✝ R . I . P ✝

preeeeetty much, man. pretty much :'C

♪ somebody call out to your brother, he's calling out your name. ♫

skjdhagjklsdha my heeeeart

♪ KILLING ME SOFTLY WITH EACH TAG. ♫

p r e t t y. m u c h.

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