#bethie speaks

[geode-system]

Jesus christ

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

Godd this wrecks me every time, Bethany having to read that the Amell name was reduced to a cautionary tale, and of course it's magic's fault again

[a-shrieking-cloud-of-bats]

I feel like a broken record but like starfield is A Game and it's probably A Game I'll Play At Some Point and it's A Significant Landmark And Point Of Interest In Games I don't think it's like wildly revolutionary for a bethesda game or an open world game additionally I feel like a lot of the Significant Landmark and Point Of Interest In Games stuff was already accomplished by games like no man's sky and elite dangerous depending on what angle you look at it from

[luveline]

kisses before dinner —the harrington family gets ready for a dinner party. mom!reader, 3k

"...and I told mommy she needed my help but your mom doesn't like listening to me anymore," Steve says, eyebrows pulled together, "because of that one time I told her the side of the refrigerator was supposed to feel warm and it broke. But I'm usually right."

Wren blinks at him dopily where she lies in the dip of his thighs. Steve has his knees up, back flat on the couch and head propped by a pink fluffy heart pillow from Bethie's bed to speak to her face to face. 

"I promise you'll understand when you're older. I'm a genius." He strokes her little forehead. Steve's youngest daughter is too baby to look like anybody, but he's starting to think she looks like him anyway. "And now mom has to run the washing machine again when we were already super duper busy." 

"Shut up!" you yell from the kitchen. 

Bethie giggles from the same place, seemingly, raising her voice to join in, "Yeah, daddy! Shut up!" 

"That's so not nice." Steve shakes his head at Wren in dramatic disbelief. She smiles at him. "Isn't that mean? Don't you think that's sick?" 

"You're being a know-it-all again!" you continue. "And we'd be less busy if you were helping me!" 

"I'm sick of helping," Steve says conversationally. "I help all day long." 

Wren gurgles and lifts one of her hands toward him. Steve holds it in his, rubbing at her palm with a gentle thumb. She totally gets what he's saying, agrees with him no doubt, breathing out heavily as Steve gives her hand a wave up and down. 

"Steve," you say, dropping the angry act to pull him in, "please, sweetheart, I really do need your help."

"How am I supposed to say no to that?" Steve whispers. "Does she guilt trip you that way?" 

Wren doesn't giggle, but the breathy, happy sound she makes as he crunches forward to kiss her forehead is close enough to make Steve laugh himself. He moves her carefully into the curve of his arm and stands, wishing he could stretch, exhausted by another long week but undeniably happy. "Let's go see what they want," he murmurs to Wren. 

You and Bethie are in the kitchen by the stove. She's wearing oven mitts too big for her, and you're crouched behind her offering steady instructions. "Don't touch the sides, my love. Only the baking tray. If it feels warm and you're not happy, tell me, and I'll take it straight away." You wear your own oven gloves.

"I can do it," Beth insists, squaring her features. 

Beth takes the baking tray and its cookies into her hands, walking with short steps to the counter, where she slides the tray up high. You lean over her to make sure it's settled before closing the oven and dashing a kiss into her cheek. "Well done, gorgeous girl," you say, scratching lightly at her shoulder as she preens under the praise. "One day you'll be making cookies all by yourself."

"But not for a while?" she asks, startled. 

You kiss her again. "Not for a long, long time." 

"Did you need my help or my approval?" Steve asks, his hand making a small thump with each pat he taps into Wren's back. "A taste tester, right?" 

"I need you to find your other daughters. I have no idea where they are," you say with a rueful smile. 

"Okay." Steve has carried babies. He's carried them for years, tiny ones and ones too big to need it, carried nonetheless. But something about Wren in all her newness makes him nervous. He hates carrying her up and down the stairs, too aware of the times he's missed a step or tripped up. "Can you take her?" 

"Yes!" Bethie says, running to her unofficial chair at the dining table and holding out her mitted arms as she sits. 

You nod at him and take the seat next to her. Steve hands Wren over into her sister's waiting hold, more than confident you're still there to take over if things get overwhelming. Wren looks comically large in Bethie's lap. 

"I have her, dad." Beth leans down to touch her nose to Wren's. "Hi, Wren. Hello, hello," she says softly.

Steve gives your cheek a swift but loving stroke and leaves in search of the other kids. He can hear Dove in her room talking to herself in make believe, but Avery, the oldest, isn't with her, nor is she in her bedroom. Steve knocks on the bathroom door. 

"Are you in there, Ave?" 

No answer. Steve raises his voice. "I'm coming in." 

He peeks inside slowly but she's not there. Eyebrows raised, Steve asks, "Avery, where are you?" Nothing. "Avery Harrington, don't make me worry! Please." 

He lets his head drift to one side, listening for an answer. Avery rarely gets told off and she hates it; she'd jump to tell him where she was if she were up here. 

Or so he thinks. Just as he's taking the stairs again to look for her someplace he must have missed, he hears sniffling coming from the master bedroom. 

Idiot, he thinks, relief taking tight hold. He doesn't like not knowing where the girls are. He should've checked your room to begin with. 

"Ave?" he says, opening his bedroom door. "You in here?" 

"I'm here, dad," she says, peering up from the space between the top of the bed and his nightstand, kneeling on the carpeted floor. 

"What are you doing down there? We gotta get ready for Aunt Robin's party." 

Her cheeks shine in the slice of light from the open door. Steve closes it behind him and flicks on the big light, rounding the end of the bed to help her up. He hooks his hands under her arms and pulls her into his chest, bed springs creaking as their joined weight lands. 

"Why are you crying?" he asks, cuddling her to his front. "What's wrong? Why didn't you come and find me? You can't stay here crying all by yourself, that's not cool. How am I supposed to make it better if I don't know what's wrong?" 

"Dove bit me." 

Steve gasps. "Again?" 

"On my hand, dad." She holds up her wrist. "It hurts." 

He presses his cheek to the top of her head, taking her arm tenderly to analyse the bite. It's a nasty thing, not bleeding but cruel and stark. "I'm sorry," he says. 

"You said I can't be mean–" 

"No, you can't–" 

"But it was really mean." 

"I know," he murmurs, "but I just don't… we can't be mean to Dove when she bites because she doesn't know it's wrong, okay? She doesn't remember. She knows it's the wrong thing to do, but by the time I tell her she doesn't know what she did." What Steve means is that the first time Dove bit Avery, Avery reacted on impulse and slapped her sister in the stomach. There isn't a bridge yet to connect to Dove why she might have received such a thing (though Steve teaches all the girls that hitting is never okay no matter what), so Dove just thought she was being hit. It was a very tense half hour of tears. 

Steve rubs Avery's back as she starts to cry in earnest. "I will tell her not to bite you, honey. I swear, I won't let her be mean to you. I'll tell her until she understands." 

He's been trying to teach Dove not to bite, but saying 'no' doesn't seem to do anything. Positive incentives don't last, and taking her toys wouldn't make much sense, because again, she doesn't get it. 

"You know," Steve says, wiping her cheeks tenderly, "I'll tell her again and again and again until she stops, and it'll work, because it worked with you." 

"What?" 

"You used to bite me sometimes, but you used to bite mom all the time." 

Avery looks at him in horror. "I did?" 

He puts her down onto her feet and takes her hand. He'd like to tell her this story while sitting down, but Robin's house beckons and time is running short. "Mom would come home from work and you'd be very happy to see her, but she would ask you what you did today and where we went and you'd bite her." 

He peeks into Dove's room and finds her missing. Downstairs, you say, "No! No, no, babe!" and he assumes she's been found. 

"Why would I do that?" 

Steve holds her hand buoyed between them as he descends the stairs. "We decided it was because you missed her. When your Dove's age you don't know how to say that. You don't even know what that is. I'm a thousand years old and I don't even know what I'm feeling half the time. So mom stopped hugging you after work for a bit until you calmed down." 

"But I don't go to work, dad. Why did Dove bite me?" 

"What were you doing?" 

"We were playing with Mr Scruffles and the care bears and she just bit me for no reason!" 

Steve stops at the bottom of the stairs. "Were you being a bossy boots?" 

Avery glares at him. "I just told her to stop taking Funshine bear." 

"Well," Steve says, smiling at her in apology, "maybe, next time, you can come and tell me, and then I'll tell her to stop taking Funshine bear, and then when she wants to bite someone she bites me instead of you. That could work, yeah?" He would much prefer it. 

Steve takes Avery to the kitchen, where you've transferred Wren into her bassinet while Bethie eats a cookie, her cheeks messy with chocolate, and Dove languishes in your arms, small hands touching your hair curiously. 

"Dove, will you look at this?" he asks, showing her Avery's bite mark. "You see that, honey? That's what you did when you bit your sister. We don't bite."

You gasp. "No!" you say, stern but far from cruel. "We don't bite. We only bite when we want to eat something." 

Dove frowns. 

"When you bite," Steve says, trying to appeal to her smarts. It'll stick eventually. "You give Avery an owie. That's why we can't bite, okay?" 

Dove can tell she's being chided even if she doesn't totally get why. "No," she says unhappily. 

"Can you say sorry to Avery?" you ask, reassuring her with a gentle squeeze. "Say, I'm sorry, Avery." 

"Sorry, Ave'y," she mumbles. 

Avery can't glare for long. She doesn't hold a grudge, not like her dad. "It's okay. You didn't mean to." 

You beam at Avery like she's hung the moon. "You're so nice, my big girl. Can I have a look at your wrist? Did that hurt?" 

Her mother's concern draws fresh tears. You swap children, and Dove quickly forgets what happened as Avery cries in little sniffles on the countertop. Steve brims with a familiar brand of pride as you comfort her, kissing and offering treats to help her feel better. I picked the right one might be applicable, only Steve didn't choose you so much as he happened upon you one day like a miracle, and then begged to keep you. Luckily for him, you've always been very agreeable on that front. 

(As in, you love him more than can be said in any one language.) 

"What are you upto?" Steve asks Bethie.

She shows him her food-covered hands. He nods like this is awesome, but in reality chocolate stains her t-shirt and she's going to have to change before they leave. Dove rams herself against his leg and looks up with her eyes widened. 

"What?" he asks. 

"Um…" 

"What do you want?" he asks, softer. She starts to frown again. Steve bends. "Drink? Crackers?" No dice. "What about some pear slices?" 

Dove loves pears more than anything, the sticky, sugary sliced kind from the can. Her frown disappears and she walks off, thankful to be understood. Steve's just grateful he wasn't bitten.

"What else did you need?" Steve asks, winding around you where you're cleaning Avery's cheeks. A damp washcloth drips down your arm.

"More time. Have any?" 

"Wren's bag is done, bottles done, Bethie's dinner." He whispers the last part. Bethie is a picky eater and she grows pickier with time, and Robin knows this, but she's not a parent (as sweet and caring as she might be for the girls). Only something you or Steve have made is something Bethie will deign to eat, and she's insecure about it despite having no reason to be. "Beth needs a new top. Your blouse needs to go in the dryer, and I can't find my nice pants. Avery?" 

"I don't need anything." 

"You sure? You have Mr Scruffles?" 

She wraps her arms around your neck. "Just want a hug." 

"Then I guess I'm busy while daddy does all my chores," you tease Steve lightly, your touch similarly soft where it tracks up and down Avery's arm. "I'm sorry Dove bit you again. It's not fair. Not fair at all. Maybe we should only have you playing downstairs until me and dad figure it out, okay? I don't want her to keep taking bits of you." 

Steve clears the checklist. Not to brag or anything, but he's a pro. You both are. Life is hectic as always and you knew getting out the door would be a process, so you planned accordingly, and you arrive at Robin's with time to spare, though Dove smells strongly of sugary pears and Bethie's new shirt has fingerprints on the back. 

"Hi, crew!" Robin greets. "It's my favourite Harringtons!" 

"We're your only Harringtons." 

"That's not true, I went to college with a Harrington." Robin ushers the girls inside. They want one thing and one thing alone —hugs. Dove is the most insistent, dropping your hand to offer Robin her arms. She picks the small girl up and smiles at her with a monumental amount of love. Robin doesn't have favourites but Dove demands it, sometimes. Avery says, "Hello, Aunt Robin," and hugs her stomach, while Bethie puts her arm behind Avery and hugs them both. 

Steve's arm shakes. "Any chance I can get through? This is a really heavy baby." 

"Hi," Robin says, ignoring him without guilt. "You guys are the best part about having a best friend." 

Steve logs that one for later revenge and eases around the mass of bodies to take Wren into the living room. "Holy fuck," he says, "I thought you weren't coming?" 

Eddie rolls his eyes. "I wanted to see the girls. It has nothing to do with you." 

They hug and pat each other on the back, and then Eddie drops to his knees in front of Wren's car seat to smile at her. "I love her so much. Can I have this one? Y'already have so many." 

"No you absolutely cannot. Where's Dustin?" 

"They're all in the backyard. Mora's teaching them how to make grass flutes, or something." 

"How'd you get out of that?" 

Eddie shrugs. "She doesn't like me. Doesn't make any sense, goth and metal are like brothers." 

"Is she goth? I thought we settled on hippie who wears dark clothing." 

"You guys are such losers!" Robin says, like a tree adorned in girl-shaped ornaments. "Don't bitch about Mora." 

"Don't swear in front of my kids!" 

You, having taken off your shoes and coat, unlike Steve, shimmy around the table. "He said 'fucking bitch' in front of Bethie the other day," you gossip, sitting by your friend's side. Eddie gives you a quick hug. You're undoubtedly his favourite Harrington. 

"He's a disgusting man who shouldn't have kids." 

You gasp and elbow him. "How dare you." 

"Can we go play with Stinky?" Avery asks Robin. 

Robin puts Dove down, short hair flying every which way, "If you can find him. But be nice, okay? He's agitated today. Mora says it's something about the supermoon." 

Avery laughs and Dove races to follow her sister up the stairs. "Ave, remember what I said, okay?" Steve calls after her. "Come and tell me if she's being bad! And no going in the bathroom!" 

Bethie remains, oddly. Though it's obvious why she's stayed the longer she lingers, her gaze flickering between you and Eddie. 

He holds his arms out. "Hello, Beth. You want a bro hug?" 

Bethie laughs and meanders into his waiting arms, where he pat-pat-pats her back like he did to Steve, eliciting a wave of happy giggles. "You've gotten so big again!" Eddie says, moving her away kindly. "Woah!" 

"I'm glad people have stopped saying that to me," you joke. 

Steve's delighted, laughing loud and sudden, and you're always pleased to have made him laugh, practically collapsing in his direction. He pulls at you until you're arm's reach. 

"What does that mean, Eddie?" Bethie whispers. 

Eddie pulls her into his lap. "It means your mom is happy about baby Wren being born." 

"I'm really happy too." 

"I bet you are! Your dad told me you're like his little helper, is that true?" 

Steve turns into your cheek. A quick stolen moment before he kisses under your ear and pulls away. "Wow," he says, smiling at you, "could we, like, actually have a conversation right now? A full one?" 

You beam. "What do you wanna talk about?" 

Steve could happily talk about everything and nothing with you. Before bed you guys are usually tired but excited enough to be alone together that you'll talk about the colour of the new dish soap or Avery's broken pinky nail. "Seen any good movies lately?" 

You give him the look. He practically invented it, that sticky, gooey eyed love as you murmur, "Mm, no. Don't think so. How about you?" 

He leans in for a kiss. 

"Yikes," Eddie says, covering a giggling Bethie's eyes with his hands. "Robin, house rules, please!" 

Steve drops his arms heavily over your shoulders for a warm hug. "He's just jealous," he whispers. 

[geode-system]

Anya: Smooth penne but the length of spaghetti

Bethie: Bowtie pasta the size and texture of an actual bowtie.

curious to hear y'all's suggestions for the worst possible pasta shape

(Assume that "pasta" needs to be made of sheets or strands of dough with enough surface area relative to thickness so that they can be cooked.)

[willows-writings]

‼️This post is part of a choose your own adventure series and is not meant to be read stand-alone. Click HERE to go to the masterlist and Chapter beginnings‼️

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Question the group?

Prologue

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"Wait what are we talking about?"

Everyone's attention suddenly snaps to you as you mumble out words, no one thought you were anywhere near sober enough to hear them.

Mike, ever the leader, speaks first "Nothing y/n go to bed."

"No don't brush me off I wanna know!" You huff and Sam has to adjust her grip on you.

Jess rolls her eyes and walks closer to you "Look y/n all you need to know is we're playing a little prank on Hannah, she's been trying to get with Mike and needs to be taught a lesson."

You frown "But that's mean, Hannah- Hannah invited us all up here, this is her place, we gotta be nice invitees." your eyes are starting to slip close and more and more weight is being leaned onto Sam.

Ashley steps forward now "Technically it was Josh who invited us, but anyways it's nothing bad, just a small little prank." She smiles at you in a way that reassures your drunken mind.

You giggle, "Okk then, I'll help her dye all your teeth blue later in revenge." You are humored by your own joke and start giggling and laughing more.

Sam lets out a sigh and starts to drag you away. "Bye guys, I hope you make the right decision."

You close your eyes and lean againist Sam trusting her to take you somewhere as the world spins beneath your eyelids. By the time you open then again you are in a room lit by a fire that you can see Beth standing by and a couch in front of it that holds your boyfriend.

"Joshhhh" you break off from Sam and stumble to the couch, nearly tripping over the edge of it before flopping down on top of the man already laying there.

"Y/n babyyy my gorgeous amazing other half." His words were also slurred and his arms clumsily come up to curl around you tightly as he buries his face in your hair. You giggle and turn your face towards the fire to find Beth looking at the two of you fondly.

"Hiii Elizabeth, Bethy, my lovely friend." You reach the hand closest out to her and she takes it and gives it a little squeeze.

"Hi y/n. Partied hard?" She's smiling in a way that says she's already taken pictures of the scene to use as blackmail later on.

"Ugh yes, and just give me like thirty minutes and I will be ready to party again." As you say this your eyes drift further closed and you feel yourself relaxing more and more into Josh.

"Mhm sure." She snorts and lets go of your hand which you wrap around Josh. "Sleep well y/n, we can party tomorrow night."

You hum contently and close your eyes. You nestle your face into the crook of Josh's neck and settle further into your comfy human pillow. Between the heat of your boyfriend and the fire, you find yourself drifting off to sleep to the quiet crackle of wood, and breathing of Josh in minutes.

ʚїɞ

The way you wake up isn't quiet.

Instead of soft fire glow it's harsh red and blue lights. Instead of soft breathing it's loud voices and the crackle of walkie-talkies.

Those sounds stay for weeks until suddenly it's quiet. Quiet as in feelings of regret and grief. Quiet as in sobbing over a closed case and two graves.

You think you prefer the sirens.

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End of Prologue

Chapter 1

OBaC Masterlist

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Prologue is finished! Sorry if this isn't accurate to how you personally would act drunk. Featuring a little fluffy moment with Josh and Beth before the bad stuff. :( Did all the talk of seeing Hannah and Beth later make you sad hehe. I felt evil putting that in.

Anyways I'm putting the text for the beginning of Chapter 1 above but I need to rewatch some of the game first so I can write everything accurately. It will be linked when it's done which will most likely be later this week or early next week!! As always likes, reblogs and comments are appriciated!

[denaliwrites]

Little Creepy House

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader

Catch and Release Prompt: "Attic"

Summary: The Doctor really doesn't like attics. Unfortunately, that's where the alien of the week is.

Soundtrack: Walking on Air by Kerli

Requests: Open!

Tag List: @nyxiethesimp

Warnings: Canon-Typical Peril.

"Oh, no," the Doctor groaned from behind you. "Why'd it have to be an attic?"

Indeed, the two of you, as well as the owner of the house (and the mother of the missing child you and the Doctor were looking for), were looking up into the dark hole in the ceiling that fed into the house's attic.

Even you had to admit that, staring into that deep dark shadowy black, you were a little nervous too.

Unlike the Doctor, though, you didn't hesitate to climb up the rickety set of wooden steps leading up. Your head popped up over the threshold, eyes scanning the dark quickly before you hauled the rest of you into the room.

"Bethy?" you called out into the dark. Everything sounded... strangely muffled, up here. Your voice didn't reach nearly as far as you expected, and when you heard the Doctor say your name, you swore it sounded like he was speaking through cotton.

"Bethy?" you tried again, louder, more alert now that you knew you had to really make an effort to hear things up here.

Which... was a little odd, wasn't it? You knew attics were sometimes creepy, full of dust and ancient furniture and vintage chests with skeletons in their wedding dresses stuck inside them.

But you'd never heard of a noise-canceling attic.

You were so busy thinking and listening that you forgot to keep an eye on your feet. Something in your path tripped you up and nearly sent you flying. Wheeling around, however, revealed that nothing was there.

Okay, but you knew the difference between tripping on an object and tripping on air -- there had definitely been something there a moment ago. You may not have seen it, but it had to exist somewhere in the vicinity.

A shiver cascaded down your spine in a way that reminded you of the time the Mean Girl in your class had dropped an ice cube down your shirt. In fact, you were pretty sure that the shiver even left behind a trail of cold sweat that only served to further mimic the memory.

"Doctor?" you called, turning back.

Wait, where was the entrance?

There should've been a glowing beacon of light emanating from behind you, but instead, just pure darkness greeted you. Enveloped you. Made you want to cry out for your mother.

"Oh, fuck this place," you growled to yourself, facing ahead and forging on, steps as determined as they were unsure.

"Bethy?" you shouted again after a minute or so, hoping that somehow it'd reach her this time.

Only silence greeted you at first, but then --

"Mom?" a tiny voice cried out, and you spun in place, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from. "Mom?" the voice cried again. You swiftly turned to your left and all but ran ahead, not even caring what danger may lay in wait for you.

"Hey, hey, hey," you said comfortingly as you got nearer to where, to the best of your abilities, you'd calculated the voice was coming from. "I'm not your mom, but she sent me. I'm here to take you back to her, okay? You can come out, it's safe."

You thought maybe you'd been wrong, or that the girl had run away, or maybe that she was just considering her options, but only a moment later a small body launched at you like a missile and hit your body with force. Tiny arms circled your hips, and a scared voice whimpered into your shirt. You could hear sniffles, too.

Kneeling down to the girl's level, you pulled her into a hug and whispered comforting nothings for a moment. She needed a parent -- her mother, to be precise. But you were the best she had for now, so it was up to you to fill in the gap.

"Hey, it's okay," you told her, pulling away so that you could look her in the eyes, your hands gripping her shoulders firmly. "We're going to get out of here, and you're going to see your mom and give her a big hug. And I'm gonna see my friend and give him a big hug. Yeah?"

She nodded, trying to contain her sniffles while she wiped away her tears.

"Say it, Bethy. C'mon."

"Yeah."

"That's a girl. Okay. Let's get the hell out of here."

You stood and took her hand, then turned to face the direction you thought you'd maybe come from.

Well, that wasn't good, was it?

Unwilling to show your fear to the girl, you marched on ahead, gently tugging her along with you. For a while, the two of you were silent as you tried to navigate the dark. Then --

"Hide!"

And then Bethy was gone, quicker than you could even process what had happened. "Bethy?" you called, feeling panic rising in your chest. "Bethy? That's not funny -- where the fuck did you go!?"

There was no answer. At least, not from Bethy.

You could hear something, though, lurching closer. Each muffled, thunking step was accentuated by a rattling breath and a growing sense of dread. Suddenly, you understood why Bethy had told you to hide.

Instead of even trying to do that, though, your body stood frozen, eyes locked on a looming shape in the darkness.

A pathetic moan spilled from your lips as the thing moved closer, and you could finally see details -- though you wished you couldn't.

Its body was an ever-shifting mass of shadows, rippling and roiling. You could see limbs -- arms and legs of flesh, but they were unlike anything you'd ever seen before. The legs reminded you of Godzilla with how thick and heavy they seemed, while the arms -- well, if you had your wits properly about you, you would've compared them to a crab. One arm was massive and ended in a sickle-like claw, while the other was significantly smaller, and looked more like a proper arm -- though the fingers were also claws, just... smaller.

And its face was...

Well, you screamed when you saw it.

The scream was short-lived, cutting off as soon as its massive claw lifted menacingly into the air.

Oh, God, this is where I die, you thought. You weren't going to save Bethy, you were never going to see the Doctor again, or your parents, or anyone in your family, or your friends, or -- or anyone. Anything.

"Don't you fuckin' dare," a voice pierced through the darkness, the void, the hollow silence. It sounded dangerous. And it sounded an awful lot like the Doctor.

The claw froze in the air, no doubt only in hesitation, but a moment of hesitation was all you needed to move, to dive for cover somewhere far from that terrible, awful thing.

"That's better," the Doctor said from... somewhere. You weren't sure. Frankly, you kind of didn't even want to know. All you could say for sure was that, for this moment right now, you were safely hidden under a table, which just so happened to be covered with a white sheet, giving you an extra layer of security.

"Now, why are you in some poor single mother's attic, terrorizing her daughter?" the Doctor asked. All he received in response was the suffocating silence of this godforsaken room.

You heard the sound of the sonic screwdriver. The alien, or creature, or whatever it was, finally made a sound -- you thought it might've been a growl. It sounded... like rocks grinding together, but... garbled. Muffled. Like you were hearing it in impossibly deep water.

Your instincts told you to keep quiet, to be silent as the grave. Even quieter, actually, if that was possible.

That deep, gurgling growl, though. It sent such an intense wave of fear through you that you couldn't help the pitiful moan that came out.

There was a shuffle, followed by one of those awful feet stamping the ground. The alien had turned around.

"Oh, I really wish you hadn't done that," the Doctor sighed. "Run!"

You didn't need to be told twice. Where you were running to was a problem for future you, all you knew for the moment was that you needed to get the fuck away from that thing.

You only stopped running when something in the path tripped you and sent you flying towards the floor. You braced for impact, but other than a sharp hiss, you didn't acknowledge the pain. Instead, you turned sharply and grabbed at the thing that had tripped you.

Your hand wrapped around something cool and smooth, and when you drew it closer you saw that it was the leg of an old ceramic doll. Creepy, but harmless. But that didn't explain how it had disappeared earlier.

The wail it released sure did, though.

You shrieked in return, throwing the doll away into the darkness in fright. "What the fuck," you sobbed, "what the fuck. What the fuck?"

Only silence answered you.

Apparently, you'd run far enough away in this impossibly infinite attic that the alien could no longer hear you. Or the silence was so oppressive that even at near distances sound still couldn't pierce through.

Neither option seemed great, to be honest.

Regardless, though, you had to press on.

Rounding a corner, you were suddenly confronted with Bethy. She was facing away from you, looking down a corridor formed from stacks of boxes and furniture. You said her name quietly to let her know you were near. Big, terrified eyes turned back to look at you and she quickly beckoned you to join her.

You obeyed, crouching once you reached her side and looking down the corridor with her.

"It's the dolls," she whispered, pointing. You could just make out small shapes shifting in the darkness. "They won't let us through."

You sucked in a deep breath and released it as a sigh. "Don't worry," you told her, moving to a stand. "I got this."

Acting blithely unaware of your surroundings as you neared where you'd seen the dolls was surprisingly easy as, for the most part, you were rather unaware. However, your ears were honed into any slight sound that could possibly arise from those creepy little fuckers.

So when, miraculously, you caught the scratching of their little porcelain feet on the attic floor, you froze, geared up, and sent a powerful kick in the direction of the sound.

And you were met with the satisfying shatter of its stupid porcelain head.

More sounds started up, no doubt the assault on one had sent the others into a panic. But you were keyed in, and out for blood. Stomping, smashing, and crushing them was like a sport, and at the end of the match you'd destroyed about eight of them, and silence surrounded you.

"Bethy?" you called. "It's safe to come out now."

There was a quiet shuffling, and then Bethy was beside you, clinging to your arm to the point that it hurt. But you said nothing -- you were scared, too, and would probably cling to the Doctor the same way if he were there.

The two of you made your way through the attic, desperate for... well, anything, really. You were sure Bethy wanted the exit, and while you wouldn't say no to that, you were more interested in finding the Doctor.

You felt like you'd been walking for hours when you finally stumbled on the man himself. He was breathless, no doubt from running, but he grinned when he saw you. "There you are!" he said by way of greeting, pulling you into a hug. Then his eyes caught on Bethy, and he knelt down to her level. "And there you are! Your mum is gonna be very happy to see you."

If you ever made it out of this attic, anyway.

The Doctor made a sound at the back of his throat, and when you redirected your attention to him, you saw that he was looking at you rather seriously. "Any ideas?" he asked, eyes flitting for a moment to look at something behind you.

You felt the overwhelming sense of dread growing, and the fear kept you locked in place, unable to look back.

"No," you whimpered.

The Doctor moved closer, taking your face in your hands and forcing you to look into his eyes. "Hey," he said soothingly, smiling. You moaned in response. "Oh, now, none of that. C'mon. Be brave for me, yeah?"

Fear clouded your mind, and you could feel the thing behind you, could sense that claw hovering over you, ready to strike. But as the Doctor spoke, as more and more words of encouragement washed over you, the feeling started to recede.

And with it, you felt the monster retreating.

"K-keep talking," you told the Doctor urgently.

And he did, and you took his every word in, believed every word. As he spoke, and you listened, not only was the monster retreating but the darkness and silence followed it. You were starting to hear things -- birds chirping, a car driving by. A plane overhead. And you could see light beginning to filter in from... somewhere. Anywhere. Everywhere?

All you really saw, though, was the Doctor.

He was grinning -- no, beaming at you.

"Look at you," he said, voice brimming with pride. "Defeating a monster that feeds off fear and isolation."

You released a relieved giggle. "No, that was all you."

"Oh, it wasn't," he told you, his eyes looking into yours. "My words would've meant nothing if you hadn't trusted me. If you hadn't believed me."

"Of course I trust you."

His grin broadened and he let out a breathy chuckle. "That's good, then. That you trust me. We would've been in a lot of trouble if you didn't."

You laughed. "I'd probably be dead."

"We can't have that," he said, suddenly serious again. For a moment you thought maybe the monster was back, but you blinked and when you opened your eyes, he was smiling again. "No dying on my watch, got it?"

"Trust me, I do not have any plans on doing that any time soon."

[tlou-reid]

scaredy cat ✰ jj maybank

warnings ✰ mentions of abuse, only what’s shown in the obx show this is my first piece of writing on this account please be nice lol

summary ✰ jj has a lot of fears, kooks make a lot of them come to surface

jj maybank has a lot of fears. most people, even his closest group of friends, wouldn’t believe this to be true. jj maybank tries to appear as fearless as possible; that’s his whole schtick. he drives really fast on his dirt bike. he has fought his own abusive, piece of shit father. he was arrested for something he didn’t do. he’s fought so many kooks. he stole a gun. he stole an ambulance. he’s done so many things that make him out to bethis fearless, adrenaline-searching, asshole.

but that’s not who jj maybank is. jj maybank is scared of losing his friends; that’s why he took the fall for pope, that’s why he stole an ambulance, thats why he stole the gun. he’s afraid of not being good enough, that’s why he sticks up for his friends so hard and drives so fast. he’s afraid of turning out like his dad. that’s why the resentment he had for his dad festered and he took a swing at the object of his fear. he has multiple deep-rooted fears that present in chaotic, dangerous ways.

that’s how he got where was his right now. you’d think he’d have learned by now not to fight at his job. or, jobs, he guesses. but damn, when the kookiest motherfuckers he’s ever seen waltz into the outer banks’ newest restaurant, where he was working as a food runner, his mood is already ruined. when they ogle their waitress, a sweet girl named Marlee that he’s seen around the cut, his hand starts to tense and his fists start to ball. but, when you walk in, wearing his muscle tank with a visible sports bra underneath, carrying a brown bag with his lunch in it, all of that negative energy seems to wash away. he notices when the kooks start to stare. he doesn’t mind stares, stares give him a sense of pride. yeah, he thinks, look at my fine ass girl that you’ll never get to touch.

but, then the stares turn into words. jj can tolerate stares, but he absolutely does not tolerate disrespect when it comes to his girl. just as you approach to hand him the bag, the kook boy in the baby pink shirt hollers, “damn, you can almost see her entire ass out of those shorts. good for us, though.” and, suddenly, jj’s looking right past you, straight to the table where 6 kooks were sitting, staring at you. “shut the fuck up, man”, jj shouts and waves an arm at them. you reach up to pull his arm out of the air “j, it’s fine, i’m only here to drop this off.” as you speak, you’re holding up the brown bag for him. “yeah, j, it’s fine. she’ll be leaving with us anyways.” one of them yell, mocking your tone.

and jj was off. he jumped right at them, not tolerating the way they were speaking about you. his fists were flying and the manager slammed the kitchen door. the older man races over, pulling jj off of the kook. “get the fuck out!” he shouts at jj, pointing to the door. jj glanced at the table of kooks, smirking at the black eye forming on pink-shirt’s face. he then glances at you, seeing your shocked expression. then, he turns around and walks out. you sheepishly follow, leaving the brown bag somewhere in the restaurant and avoiding the now-angry looks from the table.

“what the fuck was that?” you ask jj, not quite raising your voice but definitely in an authoritative tone. “i was protecting my girl.” he smiles like nothing is wrong. your fold your arms over your chest, “i wasn’t in danger.”

“yeah,” he moves forward to pull your arms apart and stand closer, “but you would’ve been if i didn’t stick up for you.”

and there it is. there’s the fear behind his actions. there’s the fear that drives the way he thinks. there’s the fear that dictates the outcome of any situation involving you: losing you. whether it be to a kook, or really any person in general, or if it’s you getting hurt. that was his fear. honestly, if you asked him and a managed to get a real answer out of him, he’d say that was his biggest fear.

“but where are you going to work now?” your priorities shift, basking in the sweet sentiment of him wanting to protect you, even if it wasn’t the best course of action. he just laughed, “i’ll figure it out. i always do.”

[geode-system]

Did you fuck a bot

(curled up against him in bed after earth-shattering sex, running my hands across his chest) that last song you sent in the #music channel....it was sooo good. You have such sophisticated taste....

(We make out again; he starts to drift away into sleep)

(I get up out of bed)

But y'know, I couldn't help but think...

(I start rummaging around in my nighstand drawers)

I'm not sure I've ever seen you acknowledge the music anyone else posts in there? Not one reply, not one emoji react, in the entire three years of our server's existence?

And yet ..

(The sound of a gun cocking; he opens his eyes)

You just keep on giving us spotify links, don't you?

[helly-watermelonsmellinfellon]

Housed For Now!

[New]

AS OF DECEMBER 20TH, 2023, WE HAVE BEEN INFORMED THAT OUR NEW LANDLADY WANTS US OUT WHEN OUR LEASE ENDS IN FENBRUARY. EDIT Dec 27th 2023: We just learned that she's adding an electric garage door to the garage. Her ex-husband is working on it with an electrician friend of his and I overheard them. She doesn't intend to move in, she wants to add the small ass garage onto the lease and thinks it's worth adding another $1K+ dollars to the rent.

[Old]

Dave just doesn't get how finances work. Because he's so unhelpful and doesn't fucking listen when people speak, he's whining about how after getting paid, mom has nothing left for the month. "But we don't have to spend $230 on the storage unit anymore!" "That went into other bills, Dave!" He thinks that cuz we don't have that one issue holding us down, we're going to be able to handle everything else easily and have money left over for whatever he wants to waste it on. Because mom has had to pay one bill and let another slide as a result every month. It's how she's had to handle our financial problems this entire time. And people all over have to do things like this, it isn't a new tactic.

Mom finally paid off the bank after Dave bounced her account several times last year. She's been paying $100+ a month for ages to get that handled. That should make things a little easier now.

The car insurance has increased by several dozen dollars so it's over $150 a month now. (EDIT: Dec, 2023: It was increased again.)

Her phone and Bethy's phone have to be kept on because of her schooling and we need a functioning phone number or else we'll be in big trouble in many ways. $100+ just for 2 phones. Dave is in charge of his own damn phone.

She has to handle her Discover and Capital One cards since she's had to use them to save our asses a few times. She NEEDS to pay them off so her credit score doesn't tank, and many places won't give you a chance if your credit is low. She's got monthly payments for those around $100+ in total.

The P.O. Box price has increased. Almost $50 now. (EDIT: Dec, 2023: We had canceled it since we finally got a place to live, and now we'll need to get a new one. I'm so tired.)

Dish Network has been on pause or almost 2 years cuz she can't cancel it before the full year she paid is used up or the fee is astronomical. They keep suspiciously unpausing it and trying to lob thousands in fees at us. (EDIT: Aug, 2023: Mom finally got it taken care of by going to the Better Business Bureau with dozens of emails of proof for her case and they came down hard on Dish Network. So we're fine on that front now.)

Then we have gas for a minivan, that Dave should be paying for, but isn't. A mostly full tank is around $80 every 4-5 days. Gas is average rn. So over $400 monthly in gas. (EDIT Dec, 2023: $20 gets 4 1/2 Gallons right now. It is hell.)

We need the part for the van which is $800+. The van is just so old that finding parts for something considered an antique now is damn near impossible, and not having the money up front makes it worse. (EDIT: Dec, 2023: The van is dead and despite how the alternator was replaced and the battery and starter are fine, there's no vehicle.)

She has to pay for her medication cuz we have shit medical. She's already going without many of them but some health problems, like Asthma, can't be ignored so the inhalers are prioritized. (EDIT Aug, 2023: Our medical changed out of nowhere at the beginning of the year and all of our doctors no longer take it. No doctors take it, in fact, so our attempts to get better help have to start all over again.)

Bethy needs school supplies regularly.

But Dave just thinks that she should have all this extra money left over at the end of paying everything off. Many of these things come out instantly on the 1st of each month btw. She has to then work through what is left for the bills that aren't instantly paid off. He thinks if he works with his friend for 3 weeks, he'll have enough money for an apartment, completely ignoring that he'd only have about $1800 for a full month of work with no breaks. The cheapest 2-bedroom in Delaware requires almost all of that, which is why we're waiting on housing which charges based on your monthly income. Even if he handled the monthly rent of $1400-$1700 for a 2-bedroom, mom still has all this stuff to worry about... and then gas, water, electric, sewage, etc... Dave doesn't listen. In public housing, those things are included. Outside it, they are separate expenses.

Other Posts About Life:

[1] [2][3] [4] [5]

~.O.~

[Ko-Fi]

[GoFundMe]

[Venmo]

[CashApp: $Flame818]

[Amazon Food List]

[Amazon Christmas List]

[Meal Train]

[Patreon]

[NEW Dec, 2023]

I was right to keep on my toes about this. Dave does not read or pay attention and he just rushes into things without thinking. He's made every excuse possible to defend this lady saying she'll see how clean the house is a let us stay, but when she made a point to say she's thinking of moving in here, she isn't looking for a ruined house. She already has the reason for why she wants us out and she put it in writing, and it's because she claims to want to live here now. She doesn't need any other reason; she owns the property and that is good enough.

So, we have to be out by mid-February, which means more moving. And we just have no money and nowhere to go.

[NEWER Mar, 2024]

We need food, heat, hot water, etc... and Dave's getting scammed by a blackmailer that he's now given over $3K to... His dumbass was cheating, as he always does, and within a few conversations felt safe enough to tell this bitch all his personal business, as well as everything about his kids and grandkids. And now, cuz he offended her, she did a search on him and found his family and is how holding them over his head to Apple gift cards.

Yet he stomps in the house every day demanding to know if anyone 'gave us money'. And then got mad when mom finally snapped at him with, "No, actually Helen has gotten any commissions this month, so there's nothing in the PayPal." All cuz Dave doesn't want to admit that I've brought $16K in just through commissions alone.

[queen-scribbles]

❛ it should have been you. ❜

for anybody really

Hawke sibling angst? In 2024? It's more likely than you think! Sigi + Bethany + first anniversary of fleeing Lothering (624 words) ----

The windowsill creaked and Sigi tensed, mentally rolling the dice on who was about to ruin her vigil.

"I thought you might be out here." Bethany. The better option, in some ways.

Worse, in others.

"S'quiet," Sigi mumbled, looking out over the city rather than at her sister. "And out of the way. Only place our beloved uncle won't nose around."

"I know... you probably want to be alone." Bethany hesitated. Her voice shook. "But Mother is just..."

A heavy sigh, head tipping toward the empty space next to her. "C'mon, Beth."

The sill creaked again as Bethany climbed over it, carefully balancing on the slanted roof. "Maker's breath, Sigi, did you drink all of that?"

Sigi laughed, hollow and empty as the whiskey bottle swinging between her tented-up knees. "Maybe? I didn't see how full it was when I picked it up." She hefted it to examine. "There might be a few sips left if you want..."

Bethany shook her head, nose wrinkling. "No, thanks."

"Suit yourself." Just as well, the bottle did look empty. It slipped from her grasp as she leaned her head back against the wall. Rolled to rest at the roof's edge.

She held her silence. Bethany had sought her out, she could carry any conversation she wanted to happened.

The silence stretched, Bethany's breathing uneven but never quite breaking on an actual sob. "It should have been you, y'know," she finally said, the words soft and free of rancor.

Not an indictment, just fact.

"I know." Sigi sucked her teeth stared up at the stars. Different stars, different angles on constellations he never got to see.

Can't believe it's been a whole fucking year.

"And I don't... I'm not wishing it had been, or that you died instead," Bethany rushed out, twisting the hem of her blouse in knots. "You're just always the one to rush in to protect us, and..."

"I know. The one time that little shit was faster than me..." She sighed.

It had been different with Father; wasn't much she or anyone could do about a wasting sickness. But that damned ogre... she could fight, had fought, tooth and nail, to protect her family, knuckles bloody, lip split. And she'd do it again.

Except for the one time it mattered. The one time she was too slow.

'This is your fault...!' She still heard Mother's recriminations in her head some nights.

'It should have been you...'

I know.

"I'd let him brag about fightin' an ogre and winning if he was here," she muttered, trying to pretend her eyes didn't sting.

"No, you wouldn't," Bethany laughed with a hitch at the end. "You'd duck his head in the water barrel and ask if he wants to take the rest of the horde instead next time."

"...Guilty." She still wished he was here, bragging, grumbling, dogged loyalty and all.

'It should have been you.'

"'M sorry he's not, Bethy," she whispered, near choking on the words. I should have moved faster, been paying more attention-

"Me, too. I'm glad you are, Sig," Bethany leaned her head on her shoulder and Sigi grimaced at the nickname only the twins got away with. Only Bethany got away with. "I just wish he was, too."

"I know." She didn't pull away, letting Bethany take solace from the contact, wrapping an arm around her sister's shoulders.

"I miss him."

"I know." So do I.

It should have been you--he was only eighteen.

It should have been you--maybe you would have killed it.

It should have been you--you promised you'd take care of them.

I know, I know, I know.

They sat on the roof for a long time, and didn't speak of that night again for far, far longer.

[frangipanilove]

"Home" is North o’clock

Through this entire first season on TWDDD we’ve seen Daryl on a mission to find a way to get back home. He’s been desperately searching for a functioning radio in every episode, and has managed to stay laser focused on traveling north, to find a way home. Despite constantly getting sidetracked along the way, he’s now nearing Le Havre, where the people of Union of Hope have promised to help him find a ship to America.

In TWDDD 1x5 Deux Amours we see Daryl, Laurent and Azlan make their way up the river, heading north, to The Nest. We get to know Azlan, whose story involves a tragic loss which took away his reason to live.

We also heard how a clock represented a turning point for him. It saved his life, he explains, and gave him a purpose to live. I took one look at that clock and realized it was the French equivalent to Beth’s DC spoon from 4x12 Still.

I’ve written a lot about the intersection between Sirius symbolism and North Star symbolism (here and here), and once again, in TWDDD Deux Amours, we see a representation of how “north” represents “home”.

In TWD season 5 we saw it explained by Carl to Judith; that if you’re lost at night, just find the North Star, it’s at the end of the Little Dipper:

Of course we all remember Beth picking up the DC spoon/Little Dipper in Still…

Daryls entire time in France has revolved around traveling north, to the place called The Nest, where he’ll deliver Laurent and get a ticket to a trans-Atlantic cruise in return.

When Azlan dies he gives the clock to Daryl, tells him to follow the river north, until they arrive at the place depicted on the clock, The Nest (which in reality is Mont Saint Michel). When Genet’s people catch up to Daryl and Laurent, Daryl gives the clock to Laurent and instructs him to follow the river until he sees The Nest.

So the navigational themes are strong around both the clock and Beth’s DC spoon. The DC spoon for obvious reasons; the North Star is at the end of the Little Dipper, as Carl explained. The North Star will help you find your way, it’s a compass in the sky.

Azlan’s clock on the other hand, is pretty much a regular compass, in that clocks can be used as compasses. I’m not making that up, a clock can be used as a compass. That is an actual thing that people do.

Basically, what we’re seeing here is that Azlan’s clock is synonymous with Beth’s DC spoon.

And remember how all of Daryl’s efforts of getting to the north involves constantly searching for functioning radios? He’s been talking about radios non stop since he washed ashore in Marseille.

Well, in 1x5 we finally saw him get a hold of a radio. It was in a flashback from right before he was taken aboard the French Research Vessel of Horror, where we also saw a character randomly named Grady!?!???

Totally side-eying that, particularly because we also met another dude named Juno, which @wdway brilliantly recognized as a reference to the Alaska state capital Juneau! Which, again, ties right into the north symbolism because of this license plate from 5x16 Conquer:

That’s the Big Dipper and Polaris (North Star) there on the Alaska state flag!

And remember how I in this post from last week talked about how tptb sometimes uses silly word plays as symbolism? Words and phrases that phonetically sound similar? Like serious/Sirius, beer/bear, Monet/money and the classic Del Arno Foods/"there are no foods"… (which was interestingly also taken from 5x16 Conquer, where we saw the Wolves luring walkers into trailer trucks, in a perfect parallel to what we saw in Daryl’s flashback from Maine,..)

Yeah, speaking of phonetical similarities...

In TWD 10x17 Home Sweet Home we heard Beth's name for the first time in a very long time...

Maggie has no reason to believe that Beth isn't dead so I wouldnt worry about that part. What's interesting is what she's calling her sister; Bethie!

If I was ever instructed to find a name that phonetically sounds like Bethie...

...Bessy sure as hell would be among my top contenders...

Bessy, as in the name the radio operator has assigned to his radio...

I have talked about how radios are Sirius symbolism, right? (that's a rhetorical question, I have talked about it ad nauseum)

And I think I have explained that Sirius means "return/resurrection/coming back" a couple of times as well...

Bessie the Radio sure seems to be well tuned into the symbolism around "returns" and people "coming back"...

You’re free to do with that as you please...👀

[padfootagain]

Pirates (VI)

Chap 6: The Predictions of the Witch

Hello, lovelies! Here we go with a new chapter for this Caspian fic!

I hope you like this new chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Caspian x Pirate!Reader

Warnings: depictions of violence in later chapters (fight scenes… nothing too terrible), slow burn, fluff!

Summary: As ships disappear across the sea, Caspian is forced to go investigate himself. But to win against the wild uncharted waters he must cross to reach his people, he needs to bargain with pirates. And then, he finds you…

Word Count: 2540

Masterlist for the series – Caspian’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Journeying eastward was dangerous.

You were well aware of that fact. Travelling so far from the main land was a risky business, especially in these waters that were filled with treacherous currents, sea creatures that would eat you at the first chance they got, reefs sharper than knives, hostile islands and, of course, pirate ships roaming these waters in search for an easy prey.

But now more than ever, the trip was to be cautiously planned. There were rumours of ships disappearing for no apparent reason. And if there was one thing that you hated as a captain, it was to take a step into the unknown.

You had discussed the first steps of your journey with Sylvia, Caspian and Drinian and had agreed to head to the Red Island. It was but a small piece of rock and sand, a small forest sheltered at its centre. It was home to a small community that was friendly to pirates, and travellers in general. You counted on their help to get some information about the lost Narnian ships. But the journey would take two full weeks, at the very least, and in the meantime you had plenty of things to do and figure out.

Peter was a fraud, and you knew it. You had guessed that he had hidden his true identity, but he also seemed to heavily downplay the power he had over his men. He had claimed to be a rather unimportant Narnian Lord, volunteering for this mission in order to gain glory and attention from the King. You knew he was lying.

Who by Aslan’s tail was he?

You were torn from your thoughts when the bell rang. You got up from your desk, filled with maps and papers covered with calculations, crossed your quarters and walked onto the bridge.

You were not surprised to find Peter perplexed as everyone gathered around and then waited.

“What is happening?” Caspian asked his neighbour, a wolf called Maria.

“To reach Red Island, there are two different paths possible. One is longer, one is shorter.”

“And the safest?”

But Maria laughed in a barking noise, low and almost threatening, like all wolves do when they are in a good mood.

“Nothing is safe in these waters! It will depend on the weather and the current state of the currents. That’s why we need Bethy’s advise.”

“Bethy?”

But the wolf merely nodded towards the old blind woman Caspian had spotted as they departed that morning. Mere hours had passed since they had left Saint Iron, but they had crossed its perilous reefs safely already. They were travelling on an open sea once again, with a horizon that could barely be spotted between the blue of the sky and the blue of the sea.

Caspian frowned hard as two women were helping Bethy walk to the centre of the bridge.

She breathed deeply in the salted air, a smile spreading on her lips, and when she opened her unseeing eyes and turned her face to the heavens, Caspian thought that she could see, for a moment.

She walked towards the banister, turning her empty gaze towards the sea. All were silent on the bridge, and Caspian didn’t dare to speak either.

But Bethy shook her head.

“I cannot hear the sea,” she said.

Caspian was surprised when you crossed the deck and hurried towards the Dawn Treader, that was peacefully cruising next to the Bleeding Twilight.

You easily caught Sylvia’s attention, and placed your finger on your lips.

It took a few minutes for all on the Dawn Treader to grow quiet, but a nod from Caspian quickened the pace of Sylvia’s argument with Drinian and Lacusa. Meanwhile, Reepicheep was staring curiously at the old woman on your bridge.

“Try again, Bethy,” you encouraged her, and she moved closer to the edge a second time.

She took another deep breath, as if tasting the air itself. She raised a palm, listened closely to the waves, to the water hitting the hull of the ships, the wind blowing in the sails. She stood straighter, as if reaching for the sun she had turned her face towards.

It lasted a couple of minutes during which no one dared to move on either ship. And then, Bethy was turning back into the hunched old woman she was, reaching out a hand to silently ask for support; one that you quickly offered. As she took your arm, she smiled, recognizing you in an instant.

“The sea speaks quiet voices towards the south. We should take the short road. Clouds will be heavy on the other path. The currents will be against us if we follow the stronger wind.”

You nodded, turning to Charlotte.

“We head south. We’ll cross the Hundred Banks and change our course after we’ve left the sand behind.”

Charlotte nodded, shouted a few orders, and you guided Beth to sit down on the steps leading to the helm.

“It will be a difficult journey,” she warned you, her voice deepened by age and the salty air of the ocean. “Mind your heart as much as your reason. Great enemies are ahead, and they follow as well. Your sharpest wound will be caused by the dearest voice.”

She took a deep breath, hunched over a little more. But then, her usual, gentle smile was back on her lips, and she closed her blind eyes again.

“Oh, reaching for things to come is a tiring business,” she chuckled.

“Do you want something to eat or drink, Bethy?” you offered, voice gentle.

“No, no… I am fine. Bring me the boy though.”

“The boy? You mean… Peter?”

“Yes, bring him to me.”

You obeyed without a second thought, calling for Caspian. His expression was expectant as he approached.

“Yes, Captain?”

But Bethy held out her hand towards him, and you nodded, silently inviting him to hold her fingers in his.

She took a deep breath, while Caspian turned to you.

“What is this all about?” he asked, confused.

But Bethy spoke to you first.

“He lies. He lies but he doesn’t regret it yet. He will though. Soon, he will long for the truth.”

Caspian frowned hard, tried to let go of Bethy’s hold, but she clenched her fingers tighter, keeping him imprisoned in her hold. Her fingers were deformed by age, covered with wrinkles. Still, her strength was surprising enough for Caspian to be unable to free himself.

“His heart beats to the rhythm of the ocean. Seafarer he is called, or will be soon. He has seen light and darkness alike.”

And then, just like that, the crushing hold was gone, Bethy lowering her hand leaving Caspian more puzzled than ever.

Bethy turned fully to you.

“We can trust the boy. His heart is sad, it longs for something he will find during this journey, although it is not what he set out to find. He thinks he has lost something, but it was merely missing.”

“Can we trust him?”

“His heart is on Aslan’s side. He can be trusted.”

Caspian was even more puzzled to hear Aslan’s name spoken by a pirate, but you turned to him then, and he could only focus on you.

“Bethy is our matriarch, if you will. She keeps us safe,” you explained. “She sees things we do not. Call her what you wish, I don’t know the name you would give her in your land. In Saint Iron, she’s a witch.”

Bethy chuckled.

“And a good one too,” she laughed.

“Excellent, even,” you added.

“A witch? Do you know ancient magic?” Caspian asked, aghast now.

“Everything is ancient, boy,” she answered. “Everything is the same, but different. All that matters lingers through the centuries, no matter who is alive to see them. The rocks, the trees, the sky, the ocean, love, and hatred, and fear… everything is ancient, boy. Even our hearts.”

She chuckled as she rose in a slow, painful movement.

“I will go to the prow for a while. The wind is in a better mood there.”

You helped her through the stairs, but then she was able to hold onto the banister on her own and moved to her favourite spot by the prow.

Caspian remained standing behind you.

“I did not understand the words she spoke,” he admitted, and you let out a laugh.

“No one does. But sooner or later, everything she says turns out to be true.”

“So… you trust her to choose our itinerary?”

Your smile was mischievous when you answered.

“And blindly so. Now, be a good lad, and go help with the sails. These muscles have to be of some use.”

Before Caspian could reply, you had stepped away, and he was left with the ghost of an amused smile on his lips and a thousand questions.

There was a street in Saint Iron that was known for its nightly life. Or, to be more precise, for its brothels and taverns where one could get as drunk as they wished and fully succumb to their darkest desires. Most were too wise to venture there, but some were eager to forget the life they led, so much so that debauchery seemed a pleasant escape.

The fox was not walking through this street looking for a night of pleasure though. Instead, he was there on business. After all, who was easier to rob than a drunkard?

His expert paws were working magic, and he had already seized enough gold to get by for a couple of weeks, when he got himself into trouble. Or rather, when trouble found him.

Trouble that night was wearing a blue and white cloak, a white panache on his pirate hat. And despite handsome features, there was something so cruel in his gaze that all walked away before him.

And the fox was no exception. But then again, Devos was looking for him tonight. And one can never escape Devos’s hold…

“Foxie! How are you?” Devos had a grin on his face, that sent the fox trembling in a corner of the alley.

It was dark already, almost midnight. Besides rare torches, there was but the light of the moon and stars to light up the alley. It was a dead-end, and both Devos and the fox knew it. It smelled of urine and rhum, the cobblestone mixed with mud and dirt that stuck to paws and the soles of shoes.

“Captain Devos! To what do I owe the pleasure?” the animal asked, training a wary eye on the pirate.

“Can’t I bid a good night to an old friend? Must I have a reason to see you?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have called us friends…”

Devos laughed, too loud, the sound becoming threatening as it rang through the deserted street.

“You hurt my feelings here, foxie!”

“My name’s Salomon.”

“I know, foxie. But who calls you that?”

“My friends?”

But Devos was growing tired of the slow conversation. After all, he was looking for information. And he was definitely not friends with Salomon. He reckoned he was not friends with anyone at all, as a matter of fact…

“Actually, you are right, of course. I’m here with a purpose.”

“What do you want?”

Devos noticed the way the fox seemed to curl around the small purse by his side, but the pirate merely chuckled.

“I doubt that a pickpocket of your kind could earn enough gold in one evening for me to bother stealing it from you. No, what I am looking for, my dear foxie, is information.”

“Information?”

“About Blue Feather and her newfound friends.”

Salomon swallowed with difficulty. He was too afraid of Devos not to tell him everything he knew, but if you learnt that he had been revealing information about your crew… he didn’t want to imagine what you would do to him.

“What do you want to know? I’m not part of her crew, I don’t know anything…”

“Come on, don’t play humble with me. I know you like learning an awful lot of useful details about everyone here. After all, you do resort to blackmail every once in a while.”

“Only to make ends meet, it is hardly my main occupation.”

“Still, I know you have information on Blue Feather. So, tell me. What’s going on with her? Who are the men who were with her and when will she leave?”

Devos rested a hand on the hilt of his sword, but he didn’t draw it, and he didn’t need to. Both of them knew that his reputation was threatening enough.

“If I tell you, will you let me go unharmed?”

“Of course. I might need you again, in the future.”

Salomon slowly nodded.

“The Bleeding Twilight was moved during the night, but the tide wasn’t right. Rumour has it that she simply moved her ship to another part of the island, and waited there for the tide to allow her safe passage through the reefs. Some say that she’s still on the island, some say she’s gone with the morning tide.”

“Where did she go?”

“No one knows. I swear, I don’t know.”

“And the men with her?”

“Some claim they are Narnian. Some say they are even Lords! Blue Feather would have been hired as a guide. One of the men was spotted for a while on the island, he was stranded with some of his men on Saint Iron. Narnians. They were heading East looking for something.”

“Something?”

But Salomon shrugged.

“Some talk about ancient Narnian relics, pre-dating the Kings and Queens of old, some kind of old magic. Some say they are looking for disappearing boats. Some say they are looking for Aslan’s land.”

Devos rolled his eyes. Aslan… Ancient kings and queens… tales for children, bedtime stories, all of it.

“So, she’s gone East?”

“There is no reliable information. I’m just talking about rumours. I’m not certain.”

“Careful, as always.”

“Best way to stay alive in this economy…”

“Of course.”

Devos nodded, let Salomon go. After all, perhaps he would truly need him again one day.

The pirate was thinking as he walked back towards his own ship. There was money to be made in the company of Narnians – or rather, in the parting from them and the sinking of their ship. And you were involved, which only made Devos more interesting in the whole ordeal. After all, you were his rival. He both hated and loved you. He wanted to spend a night with you but also cut your throat. Who knew… he hoped he could do both, one day. If he had to settle for only one, then he guessed he’s choose to kill you with his bare hands, though...

A smile formed on his lips as his decision was taken. He shouted his orders to the man on sentry on the dock, right by his ship. He would not wait for dawn, not wait for the fading of starlight.

You had turned into a prey, and Devos was very, very hungry, indeed…

***************************

Taglist : @reg-arcturus-black

[sulky-valkyrie]

Hawke twins- cryptophasia / twin speak (a language only they understand). Perhaps a bittersweet memory of the survivor

Happy Friday, Tea! I actually restarted this 2 or 3 times until And Idea hit me like a truck, and I'm kinda playing around with what cryptophasia could mean in a world with magic, but I hope you enjoy it anyway <3 for @dadrunkwriting

Carver woke up from the worst dreams he’d had since the archdemon died, and with a terrible headache.  He sat up with a groan and pressed the heel of his hand against his temple.

“You look like you’ve been carousing with hurlocks all night,” Stroud said.

He snorted and grabbed his waterskin to splash a bit on his face.  “Give me some credit, at least I never kissed an ogre, drunk or sober.”  He rolled his shoulders to try to loosen the tension in his neck.  “You have any strange dreams last night?”

“Nothing outside of the ordinary.”  Stroud shugged.  “The song is louder, but that’s to be expected here.  You have been in the Deep Roads before, haven’t you?”

He started to snarl something back, but held his tongue.  The Commander had told him under no uncertain terms to play nice with the Orlesians, but Maker, it was hard some days.  “I was down here before and after the Thaw.  This dream wasn’t just the usual chittering, more like going through the Joining again.  It almost felt like -”  he bit his lip.  No, that would be impossible.  He’d hadn’t been pulled into Bethy’s dreams since he left Lothering over two years ago.

Stroud raised an eyebrow but didn’t press him.  “The Roads under the Vinmarks are particularly unsettling.  Hopefully you will be too tired to dream again tonight.”

Carver nodded and pushed himself to his feet.  “Couldn’t agree more.  Onwards then?”

He wasn’t too tired.  Or maybe he was so tired he couldn’t fight it.  Their father had taught them both about shielding their dreams from spirits the week after Bethany manifested, and while it had worked, it wasn’t the way he would have preferred.  Instead of closing her mind off to everyone, she’d hid in Carver’s dreams at night, or dragged him into hers.  They’d spent every night for nearly ten years fighting each other’s nightmares together.  Hers had always been more fearsome, with many tentacled creatures dragging her into a lake that was far too dark and viscous to be water, or suits of armor grabbing her by her hair and carrying her to impossibly tall towers with no doors.  His dreams had been about his teeth falling out, or getting chased by a bear through town without any trousers on. 

After Ostagar, though, he’d tried to do it properly.  Tried to shut her out so she never saw the memories of the battle that haunted his dreams.  As far as he knew, it had worked, or maybe she’d stopped trying.  Or maybe she was dead.

The dreams were even worse that night, full of red crystals and claustrophobia and talking rocks, all playing out like a shadow puppet play across torrents of blood and fire and darkspawn screams.  People were screaming Bethany’s name, and he heard Bethany screaming his.

“Carver!”  His eyes snapped open.  It was Stroud, shaking his shoulder.  “Pack of hurlocks near, we need to move.”

Normally, that would’ve sent him into a panicked flurry of activity, but this time, all he felt was relief.  It wasn’t Bethy, this is all my imagination, or maybe some new kind of Awakened.  He stuffed his gear into his pack as Stroud stamped out the fire, then they headed out, following the scent of death and the buzzing in the back of their heads.

Using torches or lanterns this close to darkspawn was never wise or safe, so their only light was the faint glow of their amulets.  The Commander gave them to all the recruits now; it was still a vial of darkspawn blood, of course, but now, they were enchanted to give off just enough light that a careful human could travel through the Deep Roads without tripping on everything.  It had been a hard-learned lesson from too many instances of running into walls or falling into holes, and Carver’s nose still throbbed with phantom pain when he thought about the number of times Morrigan had sneeringly reset it. 

The recruits were told it was 'just' a vial of darkspawn blood, but senior Wardens knew it was a little something more.  The loss of so many at Ostagar, then later at Vigil’s Keep, had made the Commander insistent on the development of contingency plans.

The discordant melody tugged at his heart as they crept onward, urging him to go faster, begging him to find them, find something, hurry, please, hurry.  It filled him with dread even as he obeyed, marching faster, then, when that wasn't enough, breaking into a jog.  Someone was down there, and they needed him.

"What are you doing?" Stroud hissed as he sped up a third time.

"Need to keep moving, need to find them," he muttered, before breaking into a reckless sprint.

Stroud tackled him from behind and rolled him over when he was still stunned. "The song has you," he said as he slapped him.  "Fight it!"

Carver caught his hand before a second blow connected.  "It's not the song!"  It was, but not in the same way.  "It's - can't you feel it?"

"You're bewitched, Hawke!"

Struggling would only waste time.  Time he didn't have.  He took a shuddering slow breath to calm himself down.  "I’m - shit.  You’re right,” he lied.  “We need to deal with whatever is causing it.  Some kind of emissary, or a demon."  It was neither; he was certain of that.  But Stroud would never believe him now.  Play along, or we'll never make it in time.

Stroud frowned, obviously wanting to argue, but knowing he couldn't.  The whole point of this trip had been to investigate the reports of strange activity under the Vinmarks, and an emissary changing the song definitely qualified.  "You will stay behind me," he ordered severely.  "And if you run again, I'll cut you down."

Hurry, please, hurry.  It wasn't a voice, so much as a feeling, a bright descant threading through the jangling darkspawn melody that thrummed in his mind.

Carver closed his eyes and nodded as much to Stroud as the plea.  I'm trying.

Stroud got up warily, and reached for his weapon as Carver stood.  When he didn't immediately bolt down the tunnel, he sighed in relief and let go of his sword hilt.  "Which way?"

They kept going.  Stroud didn't argue with Carver’s directions, and, in fact, seemed to anticipate them.  Whatever or whoever wanted Carver to come this way, it was very near the hurlocks they’d been hunting anyway.  The desperate pleading music faded away, but the darkspawn presence never wavered, only strengthened as they neared.

Carver didn't mention that it was gone.  Maybe I did imagine it.  Hopefully whatever - whoever - they found down there would be explanation enough.  Another Awakened, perhaps?  

When they heard the sound of fighting, it was Stroud who took off running first.  Bloody hypocrite.  Carver pulled out his sword and charged after him around the corner, only to almost skewer him as he clattered to a halt.  They were at an excavated section of the Deep Roads, one with real torches and magma troughs.  “Anders?” Stroud muttered incredulously.

What?  Can’t be - Karl said he died.    He peered over Stroud’s shoulder, blinking against the glare of torchlight.

A blond man kicked a screaming genlock off the ledge then spun his staff in a low circle, setting a glyph at his feet then dancing backwards as lightning surged up through it and arced into the two remaining.  “Be with you in a tic, little busy!”  

Maker preserve us, how?  That really was Anders Thekla; Carver would recognize his battle magic anywhere, even when it wasn’t being used on him directly.

As the last darkspawn disintegrated to ash, Anders turned around.  “Stroud.”  He frowned in recognition.  “Carver?”

What the void did I do?  Before he could ask, Anders ducked back into the side tunnel that must’ve been where he’d come from.

“Carver?!”  Someone shouted.  Someone who sounded like his damn brother.  

Stroud glanced back and arched an eyebrow.  “What did you do?”

He swallowed.  “Been a Warden for two years,” he mumbled.  

“That’s not an answer.”

“Yeah, it is.”  He put up his sword and walked out.  “Garrett?  What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Long story,” Anders sighed as he re-emerged, followed by a dwarf and Garrett.    

His brother stepped into the flickering light and, for once, he wasn’t smiling.  Even when he’d been in screaming matches with Mother, he’d smiled.  Even when they’d burned Father’s ashes, he’d smiled.  “Carver, I tried.”  He knelt on the ground and gently put the bundle down that he was carrying.  “I really fucking tried.  Should’ve been me.  Always should’ve been me.”  

The bundle was their sister.  Everything clicked into place.  He rushed over as he ripped his gauntlets off, then pulled her to his chest.  Her brow was sweaty, and the veins in her throat were black.  Blight sickness.  She coughed weakly as her eyes fluttered open.  “Carver?  Am I dead?”

“Not yet,” he whispered as he pulled her close.  “What are you doing down here?  What happened?” 

"Expedition," she wheezed, breath whistling like her chest was full of holes.  "Money to get back the estate."  She shuddered in his arms.  "One less mouth for her to feed, now, right?"

"No, no, no, this can't -" he stopped and glared at Garrett.  "Why did you bring her?"

Garrett's jaw clenched and he swallowed.  "I didn't fucking -"

"You did!  You were supposed to keep her safe!" Carver shouted.  "Now look at her. Look at what you did!"

Bethy’s finger pressed against his lips. "You sound like Mother.  I'm a grown woman, Carver.  This was my choice.  My screw up.  Not his."  She coughed again.  "Not yours either."

Maker, how did she always know what was the best and worst thing to say?  His fury vanished, leaving him hollow and aching.  "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't," she said.  "I - I didn't think it would work, after so long, but I called, and you're here.  I can at least say goodbye."  She offered a watery smile then fainted.He shook his head as he ripped the vial from his neck.  The Commander had told them all that this wasn't an option to be taken lightly, but dammit, this was Bethany.  "Stroud, get some of that blood, and the goblet.  We're doing the Joining."

[one0p1nk]

What do you love the most about your current friends group?

//No order, I'm mentioning people from mundo server and some other servers btw

Beth -> I love my wife's gentle, softspoken nature. I hope Bethy can feel confident enough to tell me about almost anything because talking with her in the chat is always a blessing to me and i really want her to know that. It was never awkward when I'm with her even when she doesn't speak or not. I love her fav ships they're always so sweet/ih/not sure if it should be pun intended JDBDBDB🥰

Klai -> My henchwoman is incredible, idk but I feel like she has a lot of patience too when interacting with me--- always so understanding with everyone and would try her best to make everyone feel better despite of her own struggles. She's very generous, yes, and how she likes keeping up silly ramblings with me about worlds is what I mostly adore about her. Even solsticea has a special spot in my heart 🥺

Joe -> I love joey/p. They feed me art, they're my supportive dogboy/ih, and I'm glad they existed or else communion and doomed yaoi wouldn't have been in my dictionary DJHDDHDB in other words, I love their humor and friendliness makes me wanna keep them like a pocket friend/ih

Yami -> I love her vibes, I love her art, I love her art streams, I love when I talk to her, and I love her bc she's my angelfish/p🥰 She helps me walk away from dangers that try to reach me sometimes, is fun when she brings me to McDonalds while at it sniffles;;; thanks to her I'm very absorbed to ToD sometimes and still do that, how long was it since HDDBFBFB

Tae -> some of Shrimpy's humor stuck into me/ih and I love hearing her talk. Her voice is very calming to me that it makes me feel quite safe, it really sounds very friendly....;;; Her voice is also iconic i would wish to watch it in a lot of kinds of anime genres no matter if is piece of life or horror, it's incredible the way she narrates or voice acts dialogues in games on stream dhfbfbffb

Sleepy -> I like her art pieces. I want to draw as fast as her but I'd rather polish quality over time in my case since art styles really vary JDBFFBB- I like the moments when she’s glad to try and help people, and try to stay cheerful sometimes despite of the pressure she has to experience at times. I hope in the future these can flourish well and that she gets to achieve her goals somehow no matter how bumpy the road can be for her.

Lupi -> Lupita is supportive and wouldn't hurt me in any form;; despite that I don't see her as often as the others, I feel safe around her like I've never seeing her judge me before or is probably because I don't remember sobs;;; but yeah, she brings good vibes when we're hanging out heheheheh

Al -> I love Al/p for listening to me about Hana's reversed harem stuff and trying to learn dyanthus lore from me back at the lore wide discord server/ih. I love the times we gush over fnaf together too <3/ih and also freaking like how for some reason I imagine you as a squishy entity idk why/lh

Emma -> I love Emma and Tatya and Bartholomew and Georgie and everytime we interact really I love you/p, she has such great charisma and attitude it boosts my confidence and self-esteem a bit sometimes djnnddn saranghae pookie 🫶🌸

Fifi -> Fifita, my precious rat friend and portable incinerator room/hj, I thank her for letting me love and ship her blorbos and draw them JDDBBD her art makes me smile a lot even when she draws her scrunkles, Dreams of delirium is chef's kiss;;;

Anwyll -> Anwy is a new friend I just met, and I'm already holding hands gently with him/p. I love how we have this mutual agreement about pretty blonde boys BDDBFBFBFB--- I love their blorbos too, especially Nevi(hes so pretty i like making Lau rizz him a bit/ih) and Edvin (I love farmers, I think they're so neat as heck)

Mango -> He has a nice sense of humor, I'll take that---/ih I love his art, the way he drew my goofy son once, and how he named almost everyone in dinosaur parody(I'm still sobbing from that JDBDBDB;;) and he's nice to talk with when he's not sus and... confusing, I don't understand what he says sometimes but its best to not know 🤔😊/lh

Kory -> I nearly lost my friend, Korita. It could have been one of my greatest regrets 😔 but anyway, I love her blorbos, but what I mostly love is her been spoody as usual and just taking every problem like a tough one(she's trying her best okay/lh). A nice spooder. 🥺/pos

Mandika -> I get excited when talking to Mandita, it's either neat or concerning/pos. But nonetheless I like receiving these rare art requests from her, it's my excuse to laugh and cry internally at the same time as I enjoy seeing her giggles and go silly JDDBBFFB

Clown -> I love payasito's craziness, that's a very Clown thing to do- even if I can be skeptical when she’s acting 'normal' around their spouse Law sometimes/ih/j

Orange -> magical girl Naranja save me magical girl Naranja;;; SHES TECHNICALLY AN ORANGE!!! A POG, GOOD VIBES ORANGE;; sobs sobs 😭✨️ I love her ideas and her art feels like a cool fresco snacks, and her blorbos are so well designed and written I can distinguished them well JDBFNFN

Nakki -> My brother Nakki is not often around lately, but I appreciate the times he has the patience to teach me and help me with Minecraft/lh. I love his pink lemonade recipe even tho I feel like the way he makes it will be the one overuling my amateur lemonade skills anyway JDBFNFB

Skye -> turns out Skye is held dead and half alive??? But well I love them anyway, still o' glorious in my heart/p. They're the perfect definition of a laid back, modest pookie/ih

Sam -> I love Samito's writings and drawings they make me giggle and kick my feet hehehehehe.... and I recently discovered his Gepard rp interpretation--- I have mixed feelings but at least leaning positive because I love a good humor Geoard once in a while JFBFBGN they really inspired me to ship Orpehmi more often and ngl, it feels nice to covert into it/ih

I feel like I have more friends I haven't mentioned, but just so you know to all of them. I'm glad I've met you guys, you've helped me learn new things and understand from the lessons I have to take myself better with your support, understanding, and patience despite my occasional autistic awkwardness.🥰/lh

[luveline]

I used to send you lots of requests before, but haven't sent you requests for a long time for exams, really missed it babe:) Can I ask for a Steve x reader kbd where our favourite Bethie catches reader at night staying up to do work, but we know how silent she is, so probably she doesn't tell reader about it? I just really wanna see one where reader overworks herself which not even Steve knows, but Beth finds out, really wanna see how her point of view changes on her mother. Hope this makes sense. Love you lots, Jade, and your pretty little kbd universe:)

love you !!!!!!! kbd — beth and dad!steve catch you working late at night, mom!reader. 1.4k

The day Steve takes the baby gates down is the best day of Bethie’s life. They’ve been up and down and up again, but now Dove is old enough to manage the stairs by herself without danger (just about) and Wren won’t be able to crawl for months, they’re back in the basement. 

Bethie can go downstairs whenever she wants. She doesn’t have to wait for Avery’s help on the funny top latch. 

She can tell already that Steve is sleeping, your bedroom door open, her father curled on his side with his hand stretched out across the empty side where you’d usually be snoring. The baby bassinet by Steve’s side has its own soft snoring, baby Wren fast asleep too. 

Beth has to find you, then. The bathroom door is closed (though she’s now allowed in there at night on account of needing to pee and her promise not to touch the washing machine again). Avery’s door is ajar, but when Bethie peeks inside, you’re not there either. Dove is half hanging off her toddler bed and you’re not there scooping her up, so where are you? 

Beth’s getting spooked, until she hears the sound of paper being shuffled downstairs. 

She holds the rungs of the stair bannister and sneaks carefully. Through the hallway and into the kitchen, she finds you at the dinner table with a frown on your lips so similar to her own. She loves looking like her mommy, even if the rest of her sisters look more like Steve. 

You’re working, she thinks. She’s not sure. It looks like you are. On rare occasions you’ve needed to finish things after dinner and her dad corrals them into the living room for TV, Beth has seen you crowded at the table with a pen and a weary expression. It can’t be much fun, work.

She isn’t sure how long she watches you. A weird feeling gathers in her chest, and she thinks about speaking up. You look upset at times. You bite your bottom lip like Avery does when she’s sad. 

It’s one of the first times Bethie's really looked at you and worried you weren’t happy.  

She doesn’t know why she goes back upstairs. She’s a bit scared, perhaps, to see you that way, without Steve by your side. 

He’s still sleeping, arm still looking for you in the dark. Bethie climbs up into bed with him and pushes her way under his arm, to which she is immediately pulled into his chest, squished and too warm. 

“Avery?” he mumbles. Then, a moment later. “No, that’s my Beth.” He peels one eye open, a smile taking slow form on his lips. “What’s wrong, babe?” 

“Mommy’s downstairs.” 

He peers past her head. “Oh. What for?”

“Don’t know. She looks sad.” 

“You think so?” He blinks. Bethie thinks her dad is the most love they can put into one person besides you, and she doesn’t usually look at him and see handsome or tired or anything, she just sees dad. Right now, though, he looks befuzzled. “Should we go see?” 

“Um. Well…” 

He kisses her forehead. “You tired, baby? You can sleep here if you want. Let me just go see if mommy’s okay. Go to sleep, okay? I’ll be back in a minute.” He kisses her cheek. “It’s okay, baby. Just sleep. It’s so late.” 

Steve tucks her in. She doesn’t look very tired, but she closes her eyes obligingly. 

Steve doesn’t know what you’re doing out of bed. He hadn’t felt you go. The only times he can remember you getting up in the middle of the night would be with pregnancy cravings, and you definitely aren’t pregnant, Wren’s still too small to support her own head. Plus, Steve’s sure he would’ve guessed. He knows you pretty well by now. 

You hear him coming down the stairs but you aren’t quick enough putting your things away to hide that you’re working. “What are you doing?” he asks, his voice rough. “It’s one in the morning.” 

“I couldn’t sleep,” you lie, “figured I’d get this done.” 

Steve leans on the doorway and crosses his arms over his chest. “Really?” 

“Yeah, really.” 

You’re still lying. 

“I think Beth is upset,” he suggests.

“What for?” 

“She’s been down here. You didn’t hear her?” 

You flatten your pile of papers unhappily. “No, do I ever? She’s my mouse.” 

Steve abandons his interrogative pose to hug you. It hadn’t been working, anyways. He put his arm behind your neck and rests his cheek against your temple, the other arm across your chest, your elbow clutched in his hand. “Do you do this a lot?” he asks quietly. 

“Not much.” 

“Let me take you to bed,” he says. 

“Yeah, I just have to finish this.” 

“Wasn’t a question. Bed, now.” He rubs your arm. “Please.” 

Steve’s looked out for you since he met you, of course, but you’re the first person who taught him what it was like to be intrinsically taken care of, and he’s tried to pay that back for the last eight years. It’s hard to explain the incredible value of love, because it’s without transaction, completely paradoxical. He can’t pay it back. There’s nothing to be paid. But he can help you up the stairs, and he can worry for your sake about work and why you’re doing it in the middle of the night. 

“You need to sleep, babe, I mean it,” he says quietly, not wanting to disturb the other sleeping girls as you crest the last stairs onto the landing.

“I know. I’ll sleep. I’m sleeping.” 

He pinches your sides from behind.

“I love you,” he says, stopping you before you can get to the bedroom door. “Please don’t stay up late. We’ll make you more time if you need it in the daytime. I’ll make it for you.” 

You accept his promise and his kiss with a gluey smile. “Okay, H. No more staying up. I got it.” You drop your forehead to his shoulder quickly. “Thanks.” 

“Yeah. Well, go ahead, there’s a Beth in need of scrunching on your side of the bed.” And he needs to pass out. 

Steve crashes into his own side of the bed, and he gives Beth a good kiss, and then suddenly he’s sleeping before you’ve fully settled. 

You slide down onto your back. Bethie breathes too softly to be sleeping, her head off of the pillows and the legs of her pyjama pants ridden up her calves where she’s kicked her legs out of the blankets. 

“Bethie?” you whisper. 

“Mommy.” 

“Hey, sweet girl.” You peek at her. She’s peeking at you. “Daddy said you came downstairs. I wish you would’ve said hello.” 

“You…” She eyes your sleeve. “Busy.” 

“I’m never too busy for you if you need me. Are you okay? You don’t usually stay up this late.” 

“You don’t, too.” 

You slip your hand under her shoulders and lift her up onto the pillows. Careful, you pull the blanket from under her legs, smooth out her pants, and pull the blankets back over the both of you, enclosing you in a warm bubble. “Wanna cuddle with mommy?” you whisper. 

“Will dad be lonely?” 

“No, sweetheart. Are you lonely, sometimes, sleeping by yourself?” 

“Sometimes.” 

You might regret this, but Bethie’s your world. You hate thinking about her having such a horrible feeling and not telling you.

“If you’re ever lonely,” you begin gently, tracing the little remnants of your husband where they glow in the colour of her irises and her shy smile, “that’s what me and daddy are here for. If you’re lonely at bed time, you can come and cuddle with me. It doesn’t have to be all night long, just until the feeling goes away.” 

“Are you lonely when you’re in the kitchen?” she asks. 

Her whispers are sweet for how much effort she puts into them. Avery can’t whisper, not really, and Dove wouldn’t even try, but Bethie talks so quietly you strain to hear her under Steve’s harsher breathing. 

“I’m never lonely when I have you and your sisters and your daddy in the house. Just knowing you’re upstairs makes me feel better.” You kiss the tip of her nose with a whispered ‘mwah’. “But I’m best when you’re right here.”

“I don’t want you to be lonely.” She grins at you, eyes fluttering, “I love you, mom.” 

“I love you, too,” you whisper back.  

She curls onto her side to lay her arm over you. You bring her in for your cuddle, your knuckles brushing Steve’s arm. “Should we go to sleep now?” she asks. 

“Good idea, lovely girl.”