#Beth Goody

[altpick]

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[totaly-obsessed]

Goody-two-shoes

Katie McCabe x reader

-> Modeled after that insane Man City vs. Chelsea game. (I also have no clue how football works, please excuse mistakes)

-> Reader gets carded and doesn't quite know how to handle it - Katie is there for her

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Referees can make or break a good football game -something that everybody knows, especially when being a professional footballer. And while you did believe in said statement, it had never been more obvious than now.

Emily Heaslip, the biggest Chelsea fan on this godforsaken planet. And while you didn’t necessarily think that, your girlfriend Katie definitely did. No one thought that Heaslip would referee another WSL game, after having been escorted off the pitch by security because of how angry she had made fans, trainers, and players.

Katie, a reliable candidate for yellow cards immediately knew that she would not be playing in the game against Tottenham – or at least she wouldn’t be in the starting lineup.

It had never happened before, that not only your opponent's tactics had to be talked through, but also the tendencies of the referee. The atmosphere was tense, no one wanted to play a game where a heap of yellow cards was guaranteed.

To Katie you were the only good thing during the week, always making the brunette laugh when you noticed her getting into her head too much. And she noticed you cheering up your other teammates as well – goofing off with Kyry in the gym, telling Alessia the dumbest jokes, and making a fool out of yourself, much to Beth’s enjoyment. If the Irishwoman wasn’t absolutely in love with you already, she would have definitely fallen for you by this point.

A few players of the WSL had their reputations – Katie with her yellow cards, Millie Bright the defensive brick wall, and Rachel Daly who seemed to make every goal she wanted to. All of them were quite serious, and then there was you. With your fair playing style and a bright smile always on your face, you had earned yourself the title of ‘goody-two-shoes’.

And you relished in it.

There were not a lot of people who didn’t like you, no matter what club they supported – the ones who really did not like you tended to think, that you were faking your personality.

A lot of fans find it ironic that you had ended up with Katie, who tended to get more cards in a season than you had gotten in your entire career.

But something was off on that Sunday, everything felt wrong. While it was okay that your girlfriend wouldn’t be standing next to you in the starting lineup, it felt wrong – especially in a game against Tottenham who were currently above Arsenal in the chart.

The start of the game was hesitant, with every player on the pitch walking on eggshells. It was Ashleigh Neville who got the first yellow card in the 22nd minute of the game. Her being the first player would seem weird when looking at the statistics at the end of the game.

And while you did not, Katie noticed a shift in the game – in the referee who got redder at any little thing that she saw.

It was Caitlin who got the next card, followed by Jen, followed by Lotte. Every card that Heaslip gave seemed wrong. Carding Lotte, when Beth England had stumbled over her foot – even the Tottenham player was confused by the card. Carding Cait when she accidentally ran Kit Graham over when jogging backward.

But then came the biggest shock of the game – you got a yellow card.

Kim had been roughly pushed to the ground by a Tottenham player, and you have had enough. You protested the ref, trying to explain to her that it was indeed not an accident but a punishable action. Emily Heaslip however had none of it, swiftly pulling out that annoying, little yellow card and holding it straight to your face.

The players fell into complete silence, not believing what had just happened. It was Kim who was up on her feet again, who pulled you away, patting your back in thanks.

Katie could see how the situation was messing with your head – no one was angrier than her, and she desperately wanted Frida to run over the ref as she had done before. The brunette tried to get your attention on the sidelines, shouting words of encouragement at you. “Oi! Keep ya head up!”

A few minutes later the whistle was blown for halftime.

Nil all.

The changing room was tense – no one was having fun. Jonas tried his best to give an inspirational speech. It didn’t matter how many goals you scored, it was important not to concede. Leah was pleading with the team to get your heads sorted out so that you could enter the second half with clear minds.

Your stomach felt uneasy as if it was at war with itself. Face dripping wet over the bathroom sink, eyes swollen and red, breathing heavily, is how Katie had found you.

“You did so well my love.” A warm hand found its place on your neck – gently guiding your still-dripping face into Katie’s dry and warm shoulder, letting you calm down for a second.

“Makin’ me so proud baby.” The thick accent felt like honey in your ears, numbing your mind temporarily before having to go out again.

Being back on the pitch felt like a fever dream, your head was not really where it was supposed to be but the game had to go on.

And go on it did – not to your benefit though. In the 62nd minute, Neville pulled a not-so-nice challenge on Kyra who was lying on the ground, arms raised in protest.

Arsenal was given a free kick, and you were supposed to take it. Beth England had brought the ball back where the kick was to take place.

It took you fifteen seconds until you decided on your target, Kim, who had run herself free from her defender. Just as you were about to take it, she was covered again, so you stopped in your tracks, only to shoot a second later when you saw your captain's hand gesture.

The Scot had just gotten to the ball when the shrill sound of the whistle could be heard. Not a single player on the pitch knew why. Both teams got loud with protest when they saw another yellow card being given.

To you.

You who already had a yellow.

Everyone was shocked. Katie couldn’t believe her eyes – after the yellow card followed the red which was held directly into your poor, shocked face.

‘Time wasting’ was what Emily Heaslip shouted at you. It took Kim everything to stop the others from rioting and instead guided you to Katie. The Irishwoman was standing at the sidelines, waiting for you.

The referee resumed the game, Arsenal now being down to ten players. The whole stadium was in uproar.

Your freekick had taken twenty seconds – the average took thirty. How was this time-wasting?

Katie could feel your body shaking as she pushed you into the shower and turned it on. She waited for you just outside of the door, a fluffy towel in her arms, ready to cuddle you to death.

She understood that you didn’t want to talk, instead filling the silence with telling you everything that had happened on the bench. “- and then Manu said that-“ She couldn’t keep going, her heart broke more and more, seeing you sit in your cubby, dressed in her sweatpants and hoodie, face all red and puffy.

Tears were still making their way down your face. “Oh, baby.” With soft coos the defender tugged you up and into her chest, just to sit down with you on her lap again.

You were exhausted, still not understanding why you had gotten a red card.

One after the other the girls came into the room – the game was over.

Kim was the first person at your side, pressing a gentle kiss to your head. Mumbling a little “Proud of ya.”

The others tried to cheer you up, but it was Katie who made you laugh. Your girlfriend, ever the jokester impersonating the referee who had gotten nutmegged by Alessia during the game. “God her face is just so stupid!” You just couldn’t help but laugh, Katie’s dimples smiling at you.

The brunette knew that while it was still fresh it would hurt but you would get over it.

And so would the fans – they were enraged with both of the cards you had been given, but it seems that your title of ‘goody-two-shoes’ would remain intact, even after getting a red card.

[atinycelery]

Taryn is the kind of character you love to hate because she's Selfish capital S. Jude is someone you'd like to root for despite having killed people because they're for the Good Reasons. She also has pretty bad thoughts about almost everyonee but that's Okay 🆗 because it's backed by her good intention.

Do I like Taryn? Not really. Do I hate her? Nah. She's just a girl trying to survive the way she knows how to. Does that mean she's never betrayed her loved ones? No. It happened when she tried to get what she wanted.

Jude adapts by pissing off the Folks and showing them she belongs there using ways that gives them no choice but agree they gotta agree with her

Taryn adapts by being like those chameleons, she analyzes people just the same as Jude does and she grabs whatever opportunity she can get to get what she wants, exactly like Jude.

The biggest difference is Taryn does it for a boy, which if you replace the boy with a placeholder 'objective' just the way Jude does with 'power to feel like she belongs in Faerie', you get something of uhhh == they're both trying to survive the way they're comfortable with

Does it Piss some people off the way Jude got she wanted? Yh. Who? Cardan, Madoc, Oriana, Randalin, Orlagh, Nicasia, Balekin, etc etc etc. They were betrayed, regardless whether they deserved it or not. They're just tricks to get the upper hand in Jude getting her objectives.

Does it Piss people off too with how Taryn got she want? Yh. Who? Jude and Cardan and eventually Locke. They were betrayed, regardless whether they deserved it or not. They're just tricks to get the upper hand in Taryn getting her objectives, too.

They both played dirty at some points. Another difference is Jude's objectives are power and her free will, which instantly places her in a nobler light, while Taryn's is wanting to belong to the Folk and adapting by not pissing them off, getting her boy, and occasionally backing up Madoc, which instantly puts her in the bad light

Jude's betrayals are viewed in a better light because they don't *all* feel personal, which if you read the books, yknow the politics of Faerie is as much personal as it can get for Jude. She lives for it.

Taryn's betrayals are viewed in a dimmer light because they're for her personal reasons. And long story short, they're the betrayal against our main character, Jude

Consequentially my conclusion is, I don't think Taryn would've been hated as much as she does if she's the main character. I bet people be like, she was just trying to survive! It sucked! But that's the way she knew how to! Yes she betrayed people! But it was bound to happen! She's flawed! We love a flawed queen!

In the same practical vein, Kaz Brekker is a con-man. And we root for him because he's the main character. He's done some pretty shady stuff, they're not all wholesome Inej-hearteyes coded, but because he's the main character, we excuse them and maybe we say, hey he's a flawed character, he's a gray character. We don't want a black and white goody two shoes now, Kaz Brekker embodies someone broken and morally gray who clawed his way out of the Barrel in any which way he can

Listen, i think, i think.....what I'm trying to say is, Taryn is a also a morally gray character. She loves her sisters and Oak, but will she stop that from getting what she wants even if the methods are bad? No.

On a tangent, As a sister of a sister and we're close, but we're not the loving Jo and Beth kind, but leaning more to Jo and Amy,.I've often wondered how this person who's my blood can be so endearing and important to me while at the same time makes me want to bust a vein, and I'm sure I've been in the same line of thoughts in my sisters' minds too

Because humans are multidimensional and we're stupidly prone to wanting what we want no matter what, sometimes going against what the other person, our siblings good opinions of ours

So yh, food for thoughts

Edit: because this bears saying for some reasons, i should've added that i dc abt what you think I'm not looking for a discussion this series is almost a decade old and I'm just tired seeing Taryn hate only because she chose the more discreet path to reach her personal goals, was it annoying? Yes, but she deserved as much thought out discourse as Jude because hey being morally gray doesn't mean being on the right side of the story. It's really not.

Just because you like Jude and her intentions and she's killed people and she's the mc doesn't make her morally gray.

Taryn is.

Bye. I don't need your opinion.

[ancientphantom]

It's a new year and we have some exciting new Phantom goodies!

Phantom Lines by Eliza Hunt is the story of a girl taking on a lead role onstage who starts to receive ominous warnings and scares and must team up with her sexy yet infuriating director to investigate the secrets of the theater's past, particularly about what happened to a certain lost female performer...

Rhapsody of the Forsaken by Germaine Mooney is the fifth installment in the ongoing Opera for Evermore season; this one is an anthology featuring 17 short stories and poems, most of them focused on romance with the Phantom.

Phantoms, Ghosts & Other Heartbreaks by Beth Morton is a modern adaptation of the original story, in which former foster child Christine lands a role at the Gardner Opera, but is using it as a chance to get close to Erik Gardner, high-level executive, while she tries to get her MBA and make it big in business. His mentorship is about public speaking, and under his tutelage she goes viral but becomes a target for danger...

The Phantoms of the Opera from Penny Blood Adventures is something I'm genuinely surprised no one had ever done before - a full adventure for Dungeons & Dragons (5th ed.), in which players are invited to a midnight concert in the Paris Catacombs only to discover that the supernatural music begins raising the dead. There's also an extended edition, presumably with more material for the GM!

Ghosts of the Opera by Janna Ruth is a neat one - fourth in a series about a ghost whisperer based in Paris, it's clearly Phantom-related, with a leading lady dropping dead on stage at the opera and the main character assuming the Phantom (as a real ghost) as one of the possible culprits from the get-go. Earlier installments involve ghosts in the Paris catacombs, of revolutionaries, and so on, so if you love all things Paris, this might be more than a one-off for you!

Valentine's is almost upon us, so let's see some romances next month!

[tjwritesfanfics]

Universe Eight *Life after Beth*

Pairing: Kyle Orfman/Reader

Summary: You really hated Kyle Orfman, but turns out he may not be so horrible.

Rating: Slightly Mature. Smoking, parents fighting, underage drinking

Words: 863

AN I want to write more with these two specifically. I want to write more of their teenage interactions.

Every Universe Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Kyle Orfman was fucking weird. Absolutely fucking nuts.

He was a tight ass with a tight ass. Always a pain in your side ever since he caught you smoking behind the High School freshman year.  Mr. Do Good was hall monitor and took his job way too seriously.

“You can’t be smoking on school grounds. In fact, you shouldn’t be smoking at all. Smoking kills you.”

You groan, pulling the cigarette to your lips and inhaling. How did he even find you out here? What kind of psycho radar did he have?

You blew out the cigarette smoke right into his face. Kyle jumped a little, making you laugh, and waved his hand around to remove the smoke. “What the hell! Second hand smoke kills just as much as first hand smoke!”

“Well I hope it kills you faster.” You knew that was not how smoking worked, but he was really irritating you.

“You know I’m going to have to turn you into the teachers.” When he tried to reach for your arm you smacked his hand. No way in hell were you going to let Kyle Orfman touch you. Not now. Not ever.

The two of you fought back and forth until finally able to get your name. From there he was able to report you to the teacher, who then gave you serious detention as well as told your parents.

Fucking narc.

Kyle Orfman had been busting you every change he got since that day. Skipping class, smoking again, setting a small fire in the woods behind your house, which was when you had learned that his house was right next to yours. It went on for years.

One night in your sophomore year, you decided you needed a little escape. Your parents had gotten into a big fight ending with your dad going gods know where and your mom drinking herself to sleep. Around 3 am you finally opened your bedroom window and felt. Close to your house, tucked into the woods was a lake you visited with your parents as a kid. Back before the fighting.

You sat on a rock next to the water, cigarette in one hand and one of your dad’s beers in the other. It was quiet and peaceful.

“Smoking kills you, you know.”

So much for peace.

You turned your head to see Kyle Orfman appearing from behind the trees, hair brushed back with every strand in place and wearing a white tee and gray sweatpants. How did he always manage to find you?

“What the fuck do you want you stalker?”

“I saw you sneak out your window.”

You huffed as you turned your back to him, taking another swig of the beer. You could hear Kyle coming closer to you. “Statement still stands, Kyle the Stalker.”

“There is a curfew for teens in Briar Grove. It’s 9 pm. It’s 3 am.”

“I note you are out here.” You could see Kyle sit beside you out of the corner of your eye. “Mr. Goodie Two Shoes breaking curfew? Naughty naughty.”

“I was out here to bring you back.” He huffed.

You didn’t say anything after that and he didn’t make any move to remove you from your rock. Honestly you were thankful that he didn’t. You really didn’t want to go back home yet. It was maybe 30 minutes before Kyle spoke again.

“You okay?”

“What do you care?” You down the last of your beer. “You are always ratting on me and suddenly you are asking if I’m okay? Acting like you actually care what happens to me.”

Kyle kicked his feet, his hands coming up to rub at his arm. “It’s not suddenly. I’ve always cared what happens to you. You just always seem to be doing bad things. I’m trying to make sure you do the right thing. I want everyone to do the right thing.”

You roll your eyes. Kyle Orfman’s sense of justice has always been strong, you knew that from the moment you saw him in the halls, so of course he wanted everyone to be like him. You weren’t special.

“Was it your parents?” You froze. “I could hear them. They’ve been doing that a lot lately. Is that why your out he-”

“Would you stop talking!” Tears were now forming in your eyes. God how could he talk about this so casually? Didn’t he know when to just let something go? “Why don’t you just leave?! You can narc on me tomorrow, but for right now I just want to be alone!”

Kyle looked at you, sadness swirling in his deep brown eyes, a frown on his pretty lips. He knew he wasn’t going to leave you out here alone. There were too many dangers for a girl out at night. Instead, Kyle moved closer, wrapping his arms around you and pulled you close.

You were caught off guard by the sudden embrace and though you did struggle against his hold, in the end you submitted to him. His body warm against yours and steady heartbeat bringing some form of comfort.

Funny how you were letting Kyle Orfman touch you. Comfort you. And you surprisingly wanted it not to end.

(Banners by cafekitsune)

[morsmortish]

beth…you know how i feel about catholic guilt barty, so pretty please, could you spare some little thoughts 🤲🏻

oh goody! (picture me rubbing my hands together with glee in my evil lair) han, i would LOVE to.

there are two main concepts that stick out to me in relation to catholic guilt barty. the first one is the way the religion influences his relationship with his father. i think of the Old Testament God, and the harshness and brutality of His love there: just THINK of abraham and his son (which is also interesting to look at through the lens of bcj- a father having to ‘sacrifice’ his son for a ‘cause’…you can see the vision). anyway. barty grows up seeing this violent and often unforgiving type of love in the Bible, which he’s taught to devote himself to, and then we take a trip down to the crouch manor and we see this same unforgiving ‘love’ from father to son. and yet barty is taught to revere God in this way, and so it’s only natural that he reveres his own father in the same way. and so this ruthless love from senior to junior is so established and accepted between them, and it’s only after he distances himself from religion itself he can start to stop excusing his father’s behaviour.

the second interesting idea for me is the way the Bible reflects on his relationship with his mother. i think of barty, who has always been closer to his mother than his father, who loses her at a young age, who finds solstice in religion. in particular, i think of him finding a sort of comfort in the figure of the Virgin Mary herself. throughout catholicism she is portrayed as this omnibenevolent maternal figure to all, not just jesus, and i just think of barty losing his own mother, who he always related Mary to. and i think of him turning even deeper into religion and perhaps even worship of Mary herself following his own mother’s death. this is hard to phrase right but the gist of it is barty recognising the maternal love he so desperately needs after his mother dies, and recognising it in the figure of the Virgin Mother, which only sends him falling further and further into catholicism

i have plenty more to say, but these are the two ideas that have been nagging me lately!!! i must admit han, reading jaws did act as a massive catalyst for a LOT of my catholic guilt barty thoughts…as did going to mass for the first time in years the other week…is now a bad time to admit i wrote about an “unnamed narrator” with severe religious trauma in one of my creatuve writing assessments?

[totalswagisland]

Zeke headcanonsssssss

ahh... Five nights at zekeys....

full name: ezekiel abraham neumann (haha get it. neumann. new man. new guy)

i imagine he's an only child. he kind of just gives me those vibes.

i think he and beth became friends after she got eliminated in island, and remained fairly close (her lindsay and zeke were such an interesting trio) i always wish they did a little more with them both being farm kids... especially with their shared poor social skills

this isn't a headcanon but zekes responses to the world tour interviews are really fucking concerning. the kid doesn't know subways are real, says he doesn't have a favorite childhood memory ("had some goodies, but no besties"), and that hes not allowed to watch movies. total drama stop presenting fucked up implications and not expanding on them challenge

[chronotopes]

also my nightly span of relistening to hit single ankles (2025) reminded me that kestrel memed me yesterday for a 'name ten songs' variety meme. i regrettably do still use spotify a lot so i am going to shuffle my on repeat:

wait shit i forgot to tag. hi @gideonthefirst

expert in a dying field – the beths. one of the most songs in the world. i'm literally not even an expert in a dying field right now at least not on the level of the song's metaphor but i still know how it feels. me and elizabeth stokes are always out there, knowing how it feels.

orlando in love – japanese breakfast. again i don't care how goofy 'melancholic brunettes and sad women' is as a title, MORE ORLANDO INAMORATO REFERENCES IN SONGWRITING NOW. i also really love the instrumentation in this one.

ankles - lucy dacus. i think we are all aware of how i feel about ankles by lucy dacus.

the damn thing is cursed - pretty bitter. it is genuinely fucked up how many times the universe has conspired to prevent me from seeing pretty bitter since the last time. anyway. I WANNA LEAVE THE DOOR WIDE OPEN BUT I WON'T!!!!!!! so true pretty bitter.

heads carolina, tails california – jo dee messina. it is winter and i get to listen to 90s girl country if i want to. who up tossing a coin to go somewhere greener somewhere warmer. (after texting chloe today i'm really tempted to do my chapel hill road trip this spring before it's too late... stay tooned)

mobile – the mountain goats. oldie but a goodie. what else is there to say.

the district sleeps alone tonight – the postal service. recently on rotation, maybe not for the better, but i love songs about places especially when they're places i'm connected to. song that led me to look up washington dc song-themed playlists and find the most dumbshit pseudo-dark academia playlists from young professionals working in politics that ive ever seen.

claim your ghost – iron and wine. sorry for iron and wine being an inextricable part of my music taste at one point that's not my fault either

we cannot go without dancing – emma (2020) soundtrack. we literally cannot do without dancing

apple – charli xcx. i like listening to brat back-to-back (lol) way more than i like putting it on playlists but i guess apple is a recent exception. a fun little tune. (my favorites from the album are all the sad ones but THOSE are album context only thank you very much)

tagging @eiqhties because seren is a real one who always tags me in song memes and tagging @prettyeaves because shes my wife. tagging anyone else who wants to do it but no pressure.

[rainestormscloud]

Lost a loving Aunt Yesterday, As a kid i hadnt Known much, Often skipped school and never had my mom aroujd (bless her she worked constantly)

We always walked to my aunts house, no matter the time or day she was their to welcome us, With treats, goodies and what not, always Loving.

If possible i would love for you To Donate whatever you can, Send proof of you're donation and i am hapoy to draw for You anything you would like

God bless Anyone who sees this, I hope for you to have a wonderfull day/night and go tell you're family and friends how much you love them

[bullet-prooflove]

New Characters Added:

Eliot Spencer

Max Bankman/Tristan Silva

Goodie Carangi

New Fics Under The Cut:

911 Lone Star:

Ain’t Got An Ounce of Quit - Judd knows his girl doesn't have an ounce of quit in her.

The Bear:

Rooftop - Carmen asks you an important question on the rooftop of Richie's building.

Patterns - Carmy falls into old patterns when you're injured at the farm.

Chicago Med:

Exes - Leanne has issues with yours and Dean's wedding.

Doctor Odyssey:

The Photographer - Max reflects upon his first cruise on The Odyssey.

Anything That Truly Matters - Tristan confronts Max about withdrawing from the two of you.

FBI:

Pot - Omar's family troubles come to a head when he finds a pot plant in the shower.

Shirt - Jubal has a thing about you in his shirts.

Justified:

Lucky - Tim's assignment doesn't go to plan.

Law & Order:

The Hardest Part - You don't want an abortion and neither does Cyrus.

Leverage:

The Worst Thing - There's only two people that know the worst thing Eliot has ever done.

Mayans:

Breaking the Rules - Manny breaks all of the rules when it comes to you.

Mayor of Kingstown:

Dreams - Mike experiances a panic attack in the middle of the night.

Full Moon - Things always get crazy during the full moon.

NCIS:

Two Points For Honesty - Alden makes a confession about his time on the run with Viv.

Wild Flowers - You confront Viv about what happened with Alden.

NCIS Origins:

Lilies - Gibbs knows you're not fine.

Numb3rs:

Fish - Don has to stop you getting mischevious when after having dental surgery.

Silent Witness:

Paint Party - Jack knows theres something going on with you.

Top Gun Maverick:

Scar Tissue - Beau and you discuss your decision to resign your commision.

The Other Family - Jake didn't realise his father was still alive...

Twisters:

Hands - There's a reason Tyler doesn't sleep with other women.

Tulsa King:

Ayahuasca - A bad trip at a wellness retreat brings you and Bodhi together.

Journaling - Bodhi reflects on how he ended up in Tulsa.

Espresso (NSFW) - Bodhi and you piss off the HOA once more with your antics.

There’s Always A But - Goodie's always been in love with you, he's just never been able to have you.

Yellowstone:

Snow - Jamie tries to come to terms with John's death.

A Little Encouragement (NSFW) - You and Travis take small steps into being intimate again.

Ice Pack - You find Ryan waiting for you when you get home.

Blood - Beth confronts Lee about the other brother.

[selwyngrimm]

I love love love the variety in medium I get in my correspondence. Mine are "fancy" with laid paper written with a fountain pen and sealed with wax. My friend Nick writes me on pages torn from small notebooks (and occasionally erratically on a type writer he had on comically long sheets of thin paper).

My friend Beth writes on funky stationary she finds or pages torn from the composition notebooks she writes lyrics in. Rachel writes on printer paper or construction paper that she draws on. Heather on a fun variety of papers and in fanciful packages with goodies.

Mail is great, the post office is awesome, and fuck the assholes trying to kill it.

[goodgirlsrecs]

More prompts:

Young Beth out of sheer desperation or just whimsy however you want to run with it- starts to dabble in a life of crime in her own girly pop way- I read this fic a long time back about her working in a bakery and baking drug-filled confectionary😭 (if someone remembers please rec)- yes so young Beth just trips and falls and wades into doing some mild criminal activity- meets young Rio who’s just starting out and has a lot to prove - some tension there- maybe they step on each others toes- maybe there’s some reluctant partnership, maybe they end up joining forces and being a young up-and-coming power couple🤭🤭. We could also do some exploration on Race and how Rio got into crime and how his life and experience as a young, poor brown man in a majority non-white city like Detroit is VASTLY different from Beth’s experience as a poor-ish, white woman (who has a neglectful at best parent.) We can also look similarities like how both, in a way became criminals due to financial necessity and also as a form of self-empowerment (Beth especially) as people who feel like they lack power in their lives. But also how different even that is really because how they are perceived by society. (Goody two shoes Beth who looks like she goes to church vs Young Rio who’s perceived as a threat at 15-16 etc)

Anyway this was supposed to be one prompt in a list but honestly my word vomit can be considered as seperate prompts. Please send recs or take inspiration- I’m starving��

we have some more prompts! thanks, anon!

as always, if you feel inspired by this; tag us. if you have a rec that fits this; share it via submit or asks with the link.

or if you have your own prompt (any GG ship) send it our way!

[bronzefuryfic]

Bronze Fury

When the only child of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce is brought to King's Landing to meet with the rest of her family, she finds herself caught in a crisis of succession. The Greens battle for her support... and her affections.

Chapter Three: The Queen’s Quest / Previous Chapter / Directory

There is something amiss with Rhae’s invitation to the Red Keep. The King is yet to be seen, but Queen Alicent requests Runestone’s heir join her for a private meal. Will Rhae learn the purpose of her summons?

After Helaena delivered Rhae to her room, it did not take long for her to unpack her things. A servant had brought her chest of belongings up ahead of her, and within ten minutes Rhae had emptied it entirely.

Amongst the few dresses and books she brought, Rhae found her bow. This discovery made up most of her time unpacking, as she spent many minutes trying to grip it properly with her bandaged hand. She was sure not to notch an arrow, as she had little faith in her ability to aim, instead drawing back the string a few times over. To her disappointment, it was much harder to pull than usual—her dominant arm had grown weaker from weeks of no training. 

Rhae spent the better part of an hour poking and prodding her way around her new chambers, pulling open drawers and throwing open cabinets to see what goodies she might find. It was all rather dull—extra candles, blankets, and nightgowns made up most of her discoveries. She was digging through a chest of spare sheets when a handmaiden, who introduced herself as Beth, entered the room to announce the Maester's arrival. It was time again to treat her burns and change her bandages.

As it was this Maester's first time treating her, it took a great deal longer than usual. He had many questions about Rhae's care so far, shaking his head disapprovingly at some of her answers. 

"It was not wise to travel here so soon," The Maester, Orwyle, sighed. "But it can't be helped now. At the very least, you'll find our burn creams to be more effective than what Maester Willem employed at Runestone..."

Through their exchanges, Rhae learned that this was the no less than the Grandmaester, and felt comforted by the extra attention to her care. Orwyle hummed to himself while he worked, securing the last bandage just as the sun was setting. 

"You're all set until tomorrow morning," Orwyle said. "I'll be here early so that we can finish the next set before your first lessons. Until then, I was told to inform that dinner is in an hour."

"Who will be in attendance?"

"To my understanding, just the Queen," Orwyle said. Rhae fought to keep her expression neutral—she did not like the way the Grandmaester watched for her reaction to these words. She thought it odd, but it was no business of Orwyle's that she was just as confused as he was. 

Rhae knew she had little reason to expect King Viserys to greet her personally—he was the most important man in all the realms, after all. But to not see him at all on the first day of her stay? Not only that, but there was no mention of Princess Rhaenyra and her children, either. Rhae wondered how long Daemon and his daughters with Laena Velaryon would have to wait if they came to visit.

But odder still—dinner alone with the Queen? What did she have to discuss that Aegon, Aemond and Helaena could not be present for?

Grandmaester Orwyle took his leave, allowing Rhae to stew in silence. To stave off her worries, she began pulling at her bowstring once more. She'd draw, holding it back for as long as she could, before slowly releasing it back into a neutral position. A few times, her arm shook terribly from the effort and she feared she may flay her fingers further with an accidental dry-shot. But Rhae remained in control of her bow, a dull ache mounting in her shoulder and bicep—a good sign.

Beth, the handmaiden, returned to the room after some time to escort Rhae to the Queen's door. Someone had lit the torches since Rhae had arrived to her chambers, as light faded rapidly outside. Her stomach rumbled loudly as she walked the halls.

As the pair reached the top of their fourth stairwell, Rhae spotted the Dornish guard from before posted outside of a dark wooden door. Beth smiled encouragingly. 

"Good luck," she whispered before departing.

"Lady Rhae," the guard said, nodding to her. 

"Greeting, Ser...?"

"Criston Cole, my lady."

"Ser Crison Cole," Remembrance tickled the back of Rhae's mind. She felt certain she'd heard his name once before. Another one of Ser Gerold's stories, perhaps? 

Ser Criston opened the door, leading her inside. Rhae instantly spotted a round table being prepared for two—servants were still laying out the meal. Queen Alicent sat in an armchair, scratching away at a piece of parchment. When the door shut, she raised her head. 

"Rhae," the Queen stood, giving a curt nod to the servants. They filed out of the room, but Rhae noticed that Ser Criston did not follow. Instead of his post outside the door, he took a similar position on the inside. The Queen paid him no mind. "Please, sit."

Rhae did as she was told, mouth watering slightly as the scent of the food in front of her hit her nose. She had had nothing to eat since midday—a lackluster meal of codfish and rice back on the ship. Queen Alicent took the seat across from her. 

"I do hope you enjoyed your ride up to the castle," she began, brow furrowed slightly as she picked up her fork. "The boys didn't give you trouble, did they?"

"None at all, Your Grace." Rhae said, trying not to cringe at the memory of earlier that day—the staring and the whispering. At least Aemond had been kind. Aegon had been... odd. Helaena was somewhere between. 

As the Queen cut into her meal, Rhae took her cue and shoveled a scoop of mashed potatoes into her mouth. Her Septa always said her table manners were poor—Rhae had not yet learned the rhythm to having a meal and talking at the same time. 

"You know," the Queen continued, helping herself to roast pork and eying her skeptically. "I wish for this place to feel like home for you, eventually. It's very lonely to be separated from your House, alone in such a big castle... but it hasn't got to be that way forever."

Rhae was well accustomed to that feeling. The only Targaryen in all of Runestone, a Royce in all but name to those in the Red Keep...

Rhae knew when she left for King's Landing that she must keep her wits about her, so that she could not fall prey to manipulation. The way the Queen singled her out, and no one else had been to see her... Rhae may be naïve, but she was no fool. 

And yet, there was a disarming earnest to the Queen's words. Queen Alicent met every one of Rhae's previously held notions of regalness and grace—but sat across the table, but Rhae saw none of that now. Her Grace looked tired. 

"Did you feel that way?" Rhae blurted, alarmed at her own bluntness, but her mouth worked faster than she could think to stop it. "Or do you still? Even now?"

Rhae had half a mind to apologize before the Queen could even answer, but her mind was still ablaze with curiosity. She waited with anticipation for her answer, watching as the Queen took a long drink from her goblet. 

"I don't know that anyone's ever asked me that," she said at last. Rhae sank in her chair slightly, sure that she was about to be told off. "And while it is my great honor to be Queen to the realms... yes. It was very lonely."

"Even still?" Rhae knew she was pushing her luck. Queen Alicent's eyes seemed to look past her for a moment, to where Rhae knew Ser Criston Cole guarded the door behind her. 

"Not all the time," she confessed. "But most often."

Rhae remembered how Queen Alicent had made Ser Gerold feel as though he were not alone all those years ago, at the wedding of Princess Rhaenyra and Laenor Velaryon. He had been the only one from their House in the Red Keep that night too. 

A lump formed in Rhae's throat. 

"I'm sorry to hear that, Your Grace," Rhae said quietly, not quite able to meet her eye. "And I thank you for all you've done to extend your welcome—few have offered half as much as you have. I'm lucky to have someone to guide me through it."

Queen Alicent smiled, and they ate for a few minutes in silence. Rhae was grateful for the chance to regain her composure, and to fill her belly without interruption. 

There were a few pauses where Rhae thought the Queen might speak again, but she never did. As more time passed, Rhae wondered if Alicent was hoping she would take the lead. Their private meal was clearly not the place for the empty pleasantries they exchanged before.

"If you don't mind my asking," Rhae said, when she had finally satisfied the growl in her stomach. "I was hoping you might clarify a few questions I had about... about my stay here."

"Of course, dear," Queen Alicent gave a much more intentional look to Ser Criston Cole this time, and Rhae heard the door open and close behind her. It seems they would discuss much more than Rhae's schedule. "You may ask anything you'd like."

Rhae couldn't remember a time she'd ever heard those words before. A voice inside her urged caution, but now that her belly was content, the only hunger that nagged was her curiosity. If the Queen offered a feast for that too, Rhae would not fight it. 

"You'd mentioned in your letters that King Viserys has fallen ill," Rhae began, heart racing at the opportunity before her. "Is this why he hasn't been to see me yet?"

"Amongst other reasons, yes." Alicent's back somehow straightened more than it already was as she drew in a large breath. "King Viserys has very little regard for the urgency of most matters... something I'm sure you'll come to see for yourself in these coming weeks."

"What other reasons?" Rhae's feet bounced restlessly beneath the table—she had not expected the Queen to speak against her husband so boldly. The Queen pursed her lips, and Rhae continued more hesitantly, "In your letters, you had said that he wished to reconnect with family."

"That part is true. But what you must understand is," Alicent sighed, and Rhae's heart fell slightly. But what? "My husband is a man who lives in the past, for as long as I've known him and for long before that. He's... obsessed with the way things had been and has no sense of the realities of the present." Rhae held her breath, dread building in her stomach. Alicent's words slowed—she didn't seem to want to continue. "Daemon has been gone from King's Landing for a very long time, and..."

Of course.

Alicent could see she did not have to continue, for Rhae had already reached the necessary conclusion. King Viserys longed for his brother, nothing more. He may tolerate his niece, and maybe even come to like her, but Rhae had learned many times already she was incapable of being a true replacement for her parent. 

Rhae's insides shriveled.

Shouldn't the King know by now I'm the strongest deterrent for my father there is?

She hated him. She hated him for killing her mother. She hated how he infected every corner of her life without ever actually being in it. She hated that she cared, and she hated that she couldn't even picture who it was she hated. 

The Queen stood suddenly from her chair—Rhae hadn't even realized she was crying until Alicent had pulled her into a tight embrace. 

Alicent stroked her hair gently as Rhae tried and failed to get ahold of herself. She gave into her grief, clutching to Alicent with her right arm and allowing her tears to fall freely. Her bandaged arm hung limply at her side, feeling especially heavy. 

Rhae could not say how long her outburst lasted, but as she came down from it, it felt as though it could have been hours. Her cheeks burned as she remembered whose shoulder she was drenching. 

"I apologize, Your Grace," Rhae said hurriedly, as she detached herself from the Queen. Alicent shook her head. 

"I don't want you to apologize," she said, wiping a tear from her face. "I didn't mean to upset you, but I need you to make me a promise," Alicent clasped Rhae's hand tightly. "You must not let the King learn of your distaste for Daemon, it's the condition on which he brought you here. If he learns it is a farce, he will choose Daemon over you. Every time. I don't wish to see you leave so soon."

Rhae nodded, jaw clenched. 

"I understand, Your Grace."

Queen Alicent allowed Rhae a few more moments to compose herself, but then it was time for her to return to her own room. Queen Alicent held the door open for her, speaking in a whisper as another pair of guards approached from down the hall. 

"Good luck in your lessons tomorrow," Alicent smiled warmly. "And do tell me if the children are a bother. I'd rather hear it from you than their tattles, I trust you'll be honest with me."

The guards came to a stop in front of her door. 

"Ser Criston will walk you back to your room before taking his leave for the night." The Queen nodded her acknowledgment to her night watch, speaking at full volume now. "Sleep well, Rhae."

Rhae followed Ser Criston Cole back to her room, head hanging heavily as she trailed behind him. She paid little mind to her surroundings, eyes trained on his boots as he led her down the halls.

"May I ask what plagues you, Lady Rhae?"

"Weren't you standing outside?"

Her temple pulsed and her arm itched and her throat was sore with the stress of suppressing her cries—she had no patience for stupid questions. Ser Criston chuckled at the quip.

"Daemon will not reach you here," he said, stopping in his tracks. Rhae walked right into him.

"I'd like to be escorted to my room and left alone," she said irritably, shoving a palm into her eye socket and rubbing hard. She didn't wish to think of her father.

"We've arrived," Ser Criston gestured to the door, and Rhae's already inflamed face burned hotter with embarrassment. This night could not be over soon enough. "I will take my leave at your behest."

"Apologies, Ser Criston..." Rhae looked up at the man. He had an arrogant look to him, but his dark brow knit together concernedly. She sighed. "When's the last time he was here?" 

"Not since the night of Princess Rhaenyra's wedding."

"Were you there?"

Ser Criston shifted uncomfortably.

"I was," he said. Rhae had not expected to make him so nervous. "I must admit, I'm surprised you did not know that."

Rhae racked her mind once more. What else had Ser Gerold told her of that night? He always painted the night as being about the Crown's refusal to see Daemon's crimes. She always thought the other details to be exaggerated:

The King had collapsed (struck down by the Gods, according to her uncle), but none of the guests had been there to see it. But for what reason? Ser Gerold had said he prayed for disaster and was quickly satisfied.

"There was a fight that night," Rhae said slowly, the memory just out of grasp. Ser Criston nodded solemnly.

And then it came to her: Ser Gerold was not a superstitious man, but even he knew there were some signs you could not ignore. Blood was spilled that night, and King Viserys wed his heir in the wake of a slaying. The divines could not conjure a clearer warning. The harbinger of bad fortune stood before her.

"You were the one who killed Joffrey Lonmouth," she said, taking a quick step back.

"He posed a danger," Ser Criston said, giving her a hard look. "I don't take kindly to those who pose a threat."

Rhae froze, feeling as if she'd just been shocked. Was he referring to her? What danger could she possibly pose to him?

"Ser Criston, I-"

"I haven't finished."

Rhae shut her mouth, her senses heightened. There was no one else in this stretch of the corridor. The sun was fully set, and the only other living thing Rhae could detect was a rat scurrying across a post above their heads.

"It is my sworn duty to protect the Queen and those closest to her. She has made it clear that that is to include you... so it is therefore my promise that Daemon, nor anyone else, will harm you while I am here."

Rhae released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"Seven hells, Ser Criston!" He looked at her, perplexed. Rhae shook her head in disbelief.

"I have bested him in combat once before," he said. Rhae didn't think it was likely Ser Criston Cole understood her outburst at all, but no longer feeling threatened, this new information snatched at her quickly.

"You have?"

"Yes, well..." Ser Criston looked sheepish now. "In a tourney, before I took my vows. But I know for certain I could best him again. I promise that if he or anyone else threatens you, I will."

Rhae gaped at this—Daemon was said to be one of th e strongest fighters in all of Westeros. Ser Criston made her uneasy, but if he offered to stand between her and her father... Rhae was certain she could learn not to mind so much.

"I heard your uncle trained you with a bow," Ser Criston said. Rhae nodded. "Do you enjoy it?"

"Very much," Rhae said wistfully.

Ser Criston bit his lip, looking deep in thought. "Which arm do you favor?"

"My right."

"And your injury is on the left?"

Rhae flexed her bandaged fingers.

"Yes."

"How would you like to train with a blade?"

"You would teach me?"

Ser Criston nodded, and Rhae beamed.

"Yes!"

The Maesters would not like it, but Rhae thought she could surely practice footwork and one-handed strikes while she recovered. She only had limited mobility in one of her arms, after all. They couldn't keep her to a bed forever.

"We'll discuss sometime this week," he said. "But I think it's high time you head for sleep. You've got a long day ahead in the morning."

"Thank you, Ser Criston."

"Goodnight, Lady Rhae."

Next Chapter: Ch. 4 - The Crown’s Crimes

Rhae joins Aegon, Aemond, Helaena, Jacaerys and Lucerys in their studies of their shared Valyrian heritage. During lessons, Rhae learns far more than she bargained for. 

AO3 | Chapter Discussion

Thanks for reading!

[biggerbetterbat]

WITH YOU| HIS REDEMPTION

Dary Dixon x OC!Charlie Reed

A/N: Hey! It’s a fast “special” chapter. With this occasion I would like to thank you so much for reading, liking, commenting, and reposting my work! <3

After Daryl saved Beth when the prison got overrun, their dynamic shifted from survival partners to a somewhat strained coexistence. Daryl, accustomed to solitude and self-reliance, found it challenging to adjust to Beth's presence. He was annoyed by her optimism and innocence, which seemed out of place in the harsh post-apocalyptic world. Beth's desire to maintain hope and find meaning grated against Daryl's more cynical outlook on life. Their differences often led to clashes and tension, as Daryl struggled to reconcile his rough exterior with Beth's more tender-hearted nature. Despite his annoyance, Daryl also found himself protective of Beth, recognizing her vulnerability in their dangerous surroundings. This internal conflict added another layer to their relationship as they navigated the complexities of survival together.

He wished he was in that situation with Charlie as it would make it all easier. She was already skilled with a bow, knew something about hunting, and was really good at killing Walkers. He wouldn't have to worry so much for two persons just like he had to do it right now.

Nights were the worst. Just like right now...

As Daryl huddled in the car with Beth, seeking shelter from the storm and the relentless threat of walkers being lurked by the noise, his thoughts drifted to Charlie. The memory of her lingered in his mind, a bittersweet reminder of the bond they had shared before the chaos of the world tore them apart. He tried to distract himself from the situation with remembering her bright smile and sense of humor.

Despite the danger surrounding them, Daryl couldn't shake the worry that gnawed at his heart, wondering if Charlie was out there somewhere, fighting to survive like they were. His feelings for her, once kept hidden beneath layers of gruff exterior, now surfaced with a painful intensity as he grappled with the uncertainty of her fate. As much as he wanted to see her one more time, he wished she was dead already instead of walking this Earth struggling.

As the storm raged on outside, Daryl found solace in Beth's presence, her quiet strength a source of comfort in the midst of chaos. But even as they sought refuge together, his thoughts kept drifting back to Charlie, his heart heavy with the ache of longing for her companionship once more. In the darkness of the car, surrounded by the howling wind and the distant moans of the walkers, Daryl silently prayed for Charlie's safety, hoping against hope that they would find each other again in this cruel and unforgiving world.

Life with Beth wasn't easy. She was a good girl and he started to like her; however, she still was Beth. Here he was, relying on a young girl like Beth for safety and support, a stark contrast to the image of strength and self-reliance he prided himself on. As they faced the dangers of the world together, Daryl couldn't help but feel a twinge of self-doubt, questioning his ability to protect them both. Beth's unwavering optimism and resilience only served to highlight his own insecurities, leaving him feeling out of place and, at times, downright pathetic.

For example now, they were searching for a drink. As in alcohol. Because Miss Goodie Two Shoes had never been drunk. They were risking their lives to find an alcohol...Merle was probably laughing at him from wherever he was.

"Found this place with Charlie during winter," he said stopping in front of the place. His heart swallowed once again in his chest.

Daryl and Charlie stumbled upon an old, weather-beaten shed nestled deep in the woods. Its wooden panels, once vibrant with paint, were now faded and worn, hinting at years of neglect. Vines crept up the sides, weaving through cracks and crevices, adding to its air of abandonment.

"I was expecting a liquor store."

"No, this is better."

The walls inside had patches of peeling paint revealing the raw wood beneath. Light filters through the cracks between the planks, casting uneven patterns on the dirt floor below. It was a mess inside. The only furniture that was somewhat usable was a big armchair and a table with only one chair.

After searching the place, Daryl poured some moonshine to the jar and placed in front of Beth. "That's a real first drink right there," he said, but saw the hesitation in her eyes. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," she said. "It's just...my dad always said bad moonshine can make you go blind."

"Ain't nothing worth seeing out there anymore anyway," he mumbled.

Beth took a deep breath and drank from a glass and grimaced her face. "That's the most disgusting thing I've ever tasted," then she reached over a jar with liquor. "Second round's better."

"Slow down," Daryl warned her.

"That's one for you."

"No, I'm good."

"Why?" Beth asked surprised.

"Someone's got to keep watch."

"So, what, you're like my chaperone now?"

"Just drink lots of water," he said and started working on covering the windows and locking the doors.

The life of many was strange after the turn as everything had changed. However, Daryl for the second time found himself in a room with a drunk girl that insist on playing some stupid drinking game. Did women couldn't just sit and drink?

"So first, I say something I've never done, and if you have done it, you drink," she said. "And if you haven't I drink. Then we switch."

"How do you know this game?"

"My friends played," Beth shrugged. "Okay, I'll start. I've never shot a crossbow. So now you drink."

"Ain't much of a game."

"That was a warm up," she whined. "Your turn."

He started biting his thumb nervously, feeling the pressure of her blue piercing eyes. "I've never been out of Georgia."

"Good one," she nodded her head. "I've never been drunk and done something I regreted."

"I've done a lot of things," he snorted humorlessly and drank from his cup. "I've never been on vacation."

"What about camping?"

"No, that was just something I had to learn...to hunt." he answered and the question threw him into a nostalgic mood.

"I've never been in jail," Beth happily chirped. "I mean, as a prisoner."

Daryl's face contorted with frustration as Beth's question pierced the air. He shot her a steely glare, his jaw clenching. "Is that what you think of me?" he growled, his tone laced with hurt and anger. Daryl felt his anger grew. Charlie would never ask him a question like that.

Beth recoiled, realizing her mistake too late. "I didn't mean anything serious. A drunk tank. Even mu dad got locked up for that back in the day."

"Mmm."

"Wait...prison guard. Were you a prison guard before?"

"No."

"It's your turn again," Beth said quietly, feeling that something was off.

"I'm gonna take a piss," he said and got up from the dirty floor.

"Don't be so loud," Beth said as she flinched from the man's actions. He was kicking whatever was lying on the ground, making hell of a noise.

"What, are you my chaperone now?!" he yelled as he turned, zipping the pants. "Oh, wait. It's my turn now!" he said ironically. "I've never, uh...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 relied on anyone for anything!"

"Daryl..."

"Never sung out in front of a big group! Like everything was fun! Like everything was a big game! I sure as hell never cut my wrists looking for attention!"

Snarling.

"Oh, sounds like our friend out there is trying to call all of his buddies!"

"Daryl, shut up!"

"You've never shot a crossbow before? I'm going to teach you right now!" he said and took Beth harshly by her arm, leading her out of the shed.

He walked out and started shooting at the walker, but not in his head. Daryl made out of the corpses breathing throwing dartboard. "Stop it!" Beth yelled and approached the dead and killed it with a swift movement of the knife.

"What the hell you do that for? I was having fun!" Daryl screamed in annoyance.

"No, you were being a jackass!" Beth started screaming, too. "If anyone found my dad..."

"Don't! That ain't remotely the same!"

"What would Charlie say if she was here?!" she asked, but her question was like a red cloth for a bull. It only made Dixon even angrier.

"But she's not! Cause she's dead!"

"Killing them is not supposed to be fun!"

"What do you want from me girl, huh?" Daryl asked.

"I want you to stop acting like you don't give a crap about anything! Like nothing we went through matters! Like none of the people we lost meant anything to you!"

"Because they didn't!" he pointed at her.

"It's bullshit!"

"Is that what you think?"

"That's what I know," she said. "I know that you love Charlie and you're being hurt right now."

"You know nothing!"

"I know you look at me and you see her," Beth almost whispered, knowing that she would once again tickle the nerve. "So stop treating me differently because I'm not like Michonne, or Maggie, or Carol. Because I survived! So don't treat me like crap because you're afraid!"

"I'm afraid of nothing..." he said. And it was the truth now as he lost every person he cared for.

I remember," she said. "On the highway. After the farm? When you thought Charlie was left there? You were like me. And now God forbid you ever let anybody get too close."

"Too close, huh?" he gasped, feeling the anger racing one more time. "You know all about that. You lost two boyfriends, you can't even shed a tear."

"But at least, I had someone!" she attacked him. "You were too scared to confess!"

"Maybe I would have!" he yelled. "But the Governor rolled right up to our gates! Maybe if I had followed her then...Maybe cause I let her go. That's on me. She died because of me! They all could have lived if I did something..."

Daryl and Beth sat in front of each other on utside the shed, the dim light casting shadows on their faces. The silence between them spoke volumes as they both wrestled with their demons, the weight of their experiences heavy in the air. Despite the darkness surrounding them, there was a glimmer of hope as they supported each other on the difficult journey toward sobriety.

"I'm a dick when I'm drunk," he said and smiled lightly, feeling guilty of his outburst before. "Why did you even wanted a drink so bad?"

"I know I shouldn't have ask you to risk your life for something so stupid. But I wanted to drink it. I wanted to know what it felt like. And..."

"Mmm?"

"I wanted this first drink because..." Beth said quietly. "Because back on the farm...Charlie said to me then..."

"What did she say?" Daryl asked curiously.

"She told me that I should do it before... before death," she said. "That I should experience everything I can while I still can."

"That's something she would definitely say," he nodded with a small smile, imagining how Charlie says it.

"Yeah," Beth smiled. "I've done everything but this. Just like she said. I wanted to drink, and I just felt like I needed to."

Daryl's expression softens, his eyes betraying a mixture of sorrow and longing. He misses Charlie deeply and struggles to contain his emotions, his throat tightening with unspoken grief. In that moment, Beth's revelation serves as a painful reminder of the people they've lost along the way, and Daryl's silent tears speak volumes about the weight of their shared losses.

"How did you guys find this place?" Beth asked.

"I was teaching her how to use a bow. How to hunt and...all," he shrugged.

"You miss her, don't you," Beth said rather asked. He said nothing. "I miss her too."

"Mm."

"Could you teach me? Just like you did to Charlie?" Beth asked.

"We will see," he answered, but something told Beth that he already made up his mind. So she smiled as bright as she could.

That night they burned the shed....

After days of wandering around, teaching Beth and just surviving, they found a place. During one of their teaching lessons , she got hurt by the hunter trap. That's why Daryl decided it was a right moment to find a quiet and safe place.

It was a house near the cemetery. It was an almost picturesque appearance despite the world's chaos around them. The front porch boasted a swing, weathered but sturdy, inviting weary travelers to take a moment's respite. The windows, though slightly dusty, hinted at the warmth and comfort within. Inside, the house was a time capsule of a bygone era, with vintage furniture and décor that seemed frozen in time. It was untouched.

Down in the basement was a mortgage and in one of the rooms stood a tomb with a body - the body was disposing; however, nothing suspicious was happening to it, so the man must have died before this madness began.

"I'm gonna leave a thank-you note," Beth said.

"Why?" he asked with furrowed eyebrows, turning his attention from the jar.

"For when they come back," she answered as it was the most obvious thing. "If they come back. Oh, whatever."

"Maybe you don't need to leave that," he said. "Maybe we stick around here for a while. They come back, we'll just make it work."

"So you do think there are still good people around. What changed your mind?"

"You know," he shrugged.

As Daryl and Beth heard the dog whining, Daryl's instincts kicked in, and he cautiously approached the source of the sound. With a heavy heart, he realized that the walkers had attacked and devoured the poor animal. Before he could react, the hungry undead turned their attention towards him, their rotten faces contorted into grotesque grimaces.

Thinking quickly, Daryl instructed Beth to run for safety as he drew his crossbow and engaged the approaching walkers. With precision honed from years of survival, he dispatched them one by one, the sound of the bowstring cutting through the air echoing in the eerie silence.

Despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins, Daryl couldn't shake the sense of loss for the innocent creature and the grim reminder of the dangers lurking in their world. As he fought off the walkers, his determination to protect Beth and himself burned ever stronger, fueling his resolve to survive another day in this unforgiving landscape.

As Daryl frantically ran from the approaching walkers, his heart pounding in his chest, his only purpose was to find Beth and leave the place behind. Panic ser in as he saw her belongings scattered on the ground, a chilling indication of her sudden disappearance.

With adrenaline coursing through his veins, Daryl's instinct was to find Beth at all costs. Hearing the distant rumble of an engine, he raced towards the sound, shouting her name into the emptiness of the desolate landscape. His cries were drowned out by the roar of the car as it sped away, leaving him behind in a cloud of dust and uncertainty.

Alone and desperate again. Daryl was consumed by a sense of helplessness and fear as he once more lost someone who became close to him. He obviously couldn't safe his family, his brother, Charlie, so Beth was supposed to be his redemption. With every fiber of his being, he vowed to track her down and bring her back, no matter the obstacles that lie ahead in his path.

But he didn't know where he should start. He was exhausted from the night, so with a grunt he dropped his crossbow and sat down. He started crying out of desperation and all emotions that accumulated in his body.

As Daryl's mind raced with thoughts of Beth's disappearance and the sense of helplessness that grope him, he found himself haunted by memories of Charlie, the loyal dog (I hate this line…) he once had by his side. In the midst of the chaos and uncertainty, the absence of his faithful companion weighted heavily on him, adding to his feelings of loneliness and vulnerability.

With a heavy heart, Daryl longed for the simple companionship and unwavering loyalty that Charlie provided, a reminder of the bond they shared in a world filled with turmoil. As he navigated the harsh realities of survival, the memory of Charlie served as a bittersweet reminder of the connections that sustain him in the darkest of times. Despite the pain of her absence, Daryl found solace in the memories of their time together, drawing strength from the enduring bond they forged amidst the chaos of their world.

Daryl Dixon was giving up.

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[mashithamel]

The Chosen: JR Ward, Black Dagger Brotherhood

* Oh goodie. A whole book about Xcor. On the upside, Layla is definitely finally getting some good sex, right?

* Ok, so both of his parents were trash, it’s not like he had much of a chance.

* What is with this distain toward humans from the Brotherhood? Mary and Jane and Manny are right there. Beth was raised human, so was Butch. Like, why are we not over it already?

* It’s time for Thor to spend some time in the basement with Mary, I think.

* They just keep going on and on about the rats without tails, huh? And what’s with Tohr calling V a “rat fucker” in his head? I hope that wasn’t a referrence to Jane being human, or else I’m gonna help V shoot him.

* Qhuinn! 😠 asshole.

* But Layla in feral mama-bear mode? Fantastic ❤️

* Oh come on. Havers tried to have you assassinated and despite that the prick is still breathing and treating patients abominably. Assail is detoxing on property. Wrath, just go ahead and give Layla a break on this whole “treason is punishable by death” nonsense here.

* Aww, all the females show up to back Layla up! Bella even gets a line. But don’t worry—Payne isn’t even mentioned, much less given anything to say. #WhereIsPayne

* Oh hey, Xhex shows up too! Didn’t mean to be ignoring your absence, although you got a few halfway decent lines with Selena the other book. Nice to see you again! Given how close you are with Trez, actually, about time you showed up, huh?

* So, kinda Beauty and the Beast, where her blood can save him and V is Gaston?

* Number of referrences to V having only one testicle (so far): 1

* “I’ve waited too long already.” Truer words have never been spoken, Layla. I question your life choices sometimes, but I am happy for you! 😬

* “But of course! Would you care for the Point Blank Alpha Elites, or is this more of a bomb-detonation occasion requiring the Paraclete tactical vests?” Fritz is absolutely the best.

* Aww, we called pacifiers “pacis” for my kids and I don’t seen them called that very often. Memories!

* I’m not ragging on Qhuinn, but I would very much like to not have this angry version, and for him and Layla to be friends again. A stretch, I know, but I want what I want. And Blay back, of course, but that silliness will definitely be resolved, I’m not worried.

* What the hell are the coffins in the garage for??? Did I miss something? Is this just a red herring to drive me crazy? Is it foreshadowing something for books and books now?

* Of the Brothers to go off the deep end and commit treason, Tohr was not in my top three.

* Ok, Blay! Let’s back aaaaallllll the way off here. We’re back to calling Qhuinn a slut and blaming your infatuation on him on the inability to have him. We have gone waaaay past that and now you’re just a dick. Apologize.

* Yeah, when the evil book starts talking to you, you have officially gone off the deep end.

* These are fake babies. There is a serious lack of crying and spit up, and Layla gets too much sleep, period.

* I vote Lassiter go by Cupid, cause that’s mostly what he does, right?

* Ok, Qhuinn getting the super dirty diapers is fine by me.

* “For a moment, Qhuinn just watched their expressions as they argued, the fondness and the love they had for each other turning the conflict into a negotiation between reasonable parties.” Blay’s parents (and Rhage/Mary) are excellent examples to mimics when it comes to fighting. Speaking of, can we go back to the Rhage/Mary style of fighting? I miss it. It was a lot sexier.

* V. 😠

* I am getting a headache over the legal theatrics with these kids. Wrath had better be paying Saxton so well.

* “Yet she was still alive and she was here. Looking at herself in the mirror. And for the first time in her life, she respected what she saw. Bowing to her reflection, she said softly, “Pleased to meet you.” Good for Layla!

* #UnionizeTheDoggen

Wow, that was mostly really painful. Qhuinn and Blay was agony. Tohr—what the hell was all that? Pretty much character assasination. V planning to cheat on Jane? More character assassination. Payne continues to have no lines and the doggen need their own justice system. Layla got dragged through the wringer. Trez and Tres have potential not gonna lie, Wrath seems pretty stable? FINALLY Layla got properly laid, and blended family happiness, yadda, yadda, yadda. Glad it’s over, but not looking forward to V’s mess (Jane is too good for him because she’s perfect and I will not hear otherwise).

Bottom line: ugh

Rating: one out of five unnecessarily painful rituals (mostly because Layla finaly got laid)

[brooklynislandgirl]

What kind of gifts make your muse happiest?

Winter Witch || Accepting

For the sake of having an operational base for the afternoon, Beth has paid the Trader's one night booking cost three times over. In the room upstairs, there's stockings filled with a host of goodies for the yard lads that Ron employs, plus a tidy sum to ensure the holidays go well for their families. She's catered in a buffet line of small plates, bowl snacks, and burgers ~both vegan and regular~ so even May can help participate in the neighbourhood drive. Everywhere there are neatly labelled cartons and table tops where folks can come by and drop items their kids might have outgrown, clothes or shoes that are still in fantastic repair, and other necessities like that. An exchange of goods so no one feels left out of needed things and wished on items for Christmas. She and Ron have already made a list of those families that are the worst off, who will be getting entire Christmas dinners courtesy of Mr and Mrs Secret Santa Kray. Okay so it isn't official yet, but no one can miss the stunning ring that sparkles on a very particular finger as she waves everyone on to what they're looking for like a maestro-conductor. She practically glows and the joy radiating from her is palpable as she makes small talk with people who trickle in through the Trader's door. And maybe the songs and cheer is only in her head, though she is playing soft music. She smiles at Pat as he takes a fifth trip to the lorry bound for Battersea later, with dog food, blankets, beds, and toys for the dogs and cats cared for and waiting for Forever Homes. From Samhain to Yule to Imbolc, the dark half of the year tends to bring out the best in Beth despite the fact that she is a summer island child. Her favourite gifts are those given to others, sharing in some small way the blessings she's been given. She eyes Ron sidelong and purses her lips in a little long distance kiss that even Aunt May can see from the kitchen where the older woman is brewing up a new batch of tea. Beth extricates herself as befitting any sugar-plum fairy and makes her way over to Ron, sliding a slender arm around his back. "Mahalo, Kanuha, f' lettin' me take over. An' f' agreein' t' help play Santa at da hospital tomorrow. Really gives dem somet'ing t' look forward to, yeah?"