#bethyl network

[gala-art]

Hi! I recently come across your art on pinterest and found your blog thanks to the link. I apologize in advance for the errors in the text, because I speak English poorly, I write through a translator (hello from Russia!). I just want to thank you for the atmospheric and cute drawings (of Daryl and Beth), I often review them. I am also an artist, I have an audience (1,500 people have subscribed to me on the VKontakte social network), and I wanted to ask you if you have come across any hate to the fact that you paint Bethyl? If you have encountered this, how did you react to it? On Pinterest, I often noticed people who strongly hate Bethyl, saying that they have a big age difference and other age-related arguments (in my personal opinion, meaningless arguments that can be strongly argued with, but it's still a shame when cute pairing is condemned from scratch). Because of such people, I'm a little afraid to share the art related to this couple. Your advice will be useful to me. Thanks in advance for the answer!❤️

Hello! Thank you so much for your kind words, and for your ask. I'm always excited to meet other artists and fans who support bethyl. They are a beautiful ship. I love to hear that you have a following for your art in your home country. I would love to support your art. If you ever consider sharing it on tumblr, or if there's a way for me to find it on pinterest or elsewhere, please let me know!! The bethyl community here is still active and very supportive.

In response to your question: Yes, I have received hate on my art. And I know that many of my friends and our fellow shippers have also received hate even just for posting their opinions about bethyl online. It's unfortunately not that uncommon, though as I've heard, it used to be a LOT worse. Unfortunately, there are people on the internet who think that they are a kind of "morality police." It's usually because they simply want another character to end up with Daryl in the show, so they use any excuse to invalidate ships they don't agree with. For bethyl, that happens to be the age gap. It often results in all kinds of bullying. Name-calling, harassment, etc. I've seen people refer to Beth as a "kid," even as that is clearly a lie.

As you said, and as we see here, there are of course arguments to be made, ie: Daryl and Beth are both adults, it's a fantasy, it's a fictional apocalypse setting, shipping something or liking something in fiction doesn't mean you'd condone it in reality, etc. etc. etc. Unfortunately with these people, none of that stuff matters. It doesn't feel good.

SO. The best way to deal with it is mostly to just ignore it. In the past, I've mostly just told people to go away. If you're being harassed, block the person, report them on your platform if possible. The last thing I try to do is argue with them, because it's pointless. I also try not to let it affect me and my love for bethyl and my experience as a fan artist too much. The thing to remember is that bethyl was and still is very popular. Most people don't care about the age difference. Most people aren't sitting around and thinking up ways to make other fans miserable. Being a part of a community, if possible, is the best way to fortify yourself against antisocial bullies. Having friends and mutuals on your platforms who lift up your art and support you, and who you support in return, is the best defense against haters. I have made many friends in this fandom who I will cherish always. That's why I am here.

On that note, try not to be afraid to share art of the couple you love. This is a hobby, a passion that we take part in for free. And there is nothing morally wrong or "problematic" with bethyl. Haters will make that claim, because they will say anything to bring other people down. If people are put off by the age difference, that is of course their right. They are entitled to their opinion. But that is JUST their opinion. It doesn't mean that their opinion is more correct or better than anyone else's, no matter what they say, and it DEFINITELY doesn't justify hate and abuse. So surround yourself with friends and a community of people you enjoy. Even if it is very small, it's enough! Ignore the haters, and block/report them if they become a problem. They will always be there, as haters are a fact of life. So we just have to persevere. That's my advice. I'm very flattered that you would ask for it ❤️

[frangipanilove]

we cant deny that there was a ton of backlash after season 4 from c*rylers and maybe gimple was forced to backtrack. that's why Emily had no scenes with daryl or team fam and she died such a dumb death. and thy gave carol and daryl their own episode together. they were trying to appease pissed fans and a worried network. maybe even Emily wanted out cause she was being harassed by fans for her part in the story. its an awful theory if true but it's the only way I can explain the crap writing.

Hi friend, obviously I don’t have any inside information to any of this so ultimately your guess is as good as mine here. I personally don’t think the c@rylers are as influential as many people seem to believe, i don’t really believe TPTB would do a complete 180 based on some backlash from c@rylers alone. I think for the most part they have a certain story they want to tell and they try to stick with it. That doesn’t mean that plans never change, and it’s not always for any apparent reason, but like I said, I doubt c@rylers alone have that kind of power. I’ve mentioned before that it could have been that Emily herself wasn’t ready to return (because of anxiety/mental health issues) at a time when it was potentially realistic for her to return. And again I must stress that that’s just a speculation, I have never read or heard any tangible evidence of that, it’s just a speculation on my side. But if that was the case, then yes, harassment from disgruntled shippers could potentially have played a part. But again, I don’t have any evidence of this, it’s pure speculation.

As far as the influence of c@rylers go, what we’re seeing now through TBOC is that TPTB are absolutely ruthless in giving delusional shippers a proper reality check. I think it’s pretty clear that they won’t let anyone dictate how they’re going to tell the story. Also, keep in mind that there are plenty of people, myself included, who absolutely adore the Daryl-Carol dynamic, but never once saw them as a romantic pairing, and that’s not primarily because I ship Bethyl, it’s just that I never understood the story of Daryl and Carol to be a romantic one, it’s simply not how I interpret the story we’re being told. And I’m not alone in that. I think a lot of the most vocal toxic shippers aren’t actually watching the show, they’re just watching their favorite scenes and episodes and ignores the rest. That’s their right of course, but that’s not how you stay informed on a topic. It feeds into your preexisting bias, and renders you ignorant to what’s actually the story being told. To each their own I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ l We hear so much from a certain subset of the shippers that we tend to believe they’re more numerous than what they really are, but I think the majority of Carol and Daryl fans aren’t necessarily die hard shippers🥰

[my-mt-heart]

Kang wrote Still - the beginning of Bethyl and the most egregious of the Bethyl episodes after Alone. I do hold her responsible for that calamity.

Just because a writer’s name is on an episode doesn’t mean they influenced the direction of the story. Episodes are assigned to a writer for arbitrary reasons, they’re still discussed together as a room, sometimes they already have a general sense of what the showrunner wants and they just lean into it, but either way, every beat has to be approved before the writer can go to script and there’s a whole revision process based on notes from producers, studio, network, etc. etc. Point being, it isn't fair to put the blame on a particular writer of an episode or “the writers” in general because it’s never that simple. 

[twdmusicboxmystery]

FOX UK (who are responsible for twd in the uk since we don’t have amc network here) recently uploaded “the most memorable moments” of twd - they included things like Rick killing Shane, Carl’s death, Negans debut - but they also included beths death - I thought this was interesting, why bring that up with all these moments when a casual viewer might not see it as memorable bc she wasn’t as big a character,Ifeel like it was included to remind casual viewers of her? Thoughts?

Yeah, definitely. They keep doing this, don’t they? It’s not that those other things weren’t memorable, and despite what others may say, we know Coda was a huge and iconic moment for most of the fandom (a good portion of the GA cites Daryl carrying Beth out of the hospital as one of the most iconic moments of the series; even fans who aren’t TDers or even Bethylers say that) but they do keep finding reasons over this past year to bring it up and remind the audience of it. 

Thanks for sending this in, Nonny. Always glad to know this kind of thing. Xoxo! ❣️

[bethgreeneishopeunseen]

My Heroine’s Journey: a personal essay

Trigger warning: abuse, mental illness, stalking.

Hey everyone. As most of you know, I took an extended break after the season finale because of school. I just finished my second year of college, and at the time, I had homework, finals, two part-time jobs, and an internship. I had to step back for personal reasons too. The spring semester and now this summer, and ultimately the whole school year, have been one of the darkest periods in my life. 

I have returned to Team Delusional, but I will be doing so in a limited capacity. I have a full-time job this summer, and other projects I would like to work on. Time is precious. With the show also on hiatus, there is also no new material to go through and I won’t be keeping up with filming spoilers at all. Most of all though, I no longer have my old stamina on day-to-day basis, so I have to cut back.

(Apologies in advance for any typos or awkward sentences. I edit as I write, and this is not the kind of piece that I could back and reread.)

I didn't have the... healthiest of upbringings. As I discussed in the past, my father emotionally abuses my family, especially my mother. I first contextualized my father’s anger as “abuse” when I was about twelve, but I never got far into processing what that meant for years. I wasn’t in the place to do so, physically and mentally. Processing my abuse took off when I started college, as the distance from my entire family for extended periods of time allowed me to question “normal”. My life in Delaware revolves around my family, and even most of my “home” friends are friends with my brother too and know my parents. My family touches my entire social network here. It is hard to think of “abuse” when others who know the perpetrator think “what a nice guy”. In college though, I made friends who knew no one in my family. Friends who would say point blank “You had a shitty childhood” or “That’s horrible” when I mentioned something my father did. Bethyl helped me with this, as Bethyl spits in the face of the cycle of abuse, Daryl and Beth’s fight representing what my parents should have been. Comfort and catharsis, leaving shitty pasts behind.

I fell in love with Bethyl and Beth three years ago, after Still and Alone aired. I made their relationship the center of my semester-long research paper, Sophomore Essay, and I concluded it by relating myself to the subject. For my Sophomore Essay, I focused on Beauty and the Beast adaptations, and Beauty and the Beast has become such an important story to me. The promise of love after ugliness, that you can change into someone better than you once were. Writing that paper started to open doors with rusty hinges, and I had small revelations about my mother and brother after he called me to borrow some money. I began to see how much my mother was complicit in my father’s abuse of my brother and me, as well as my brother’s selfish, manipulative behavior. Everything though unraveled in February. That’s where the sky went from cloudy to full on dark.

Right before Valentine’s Day a casual friend over Facebook asked me out to dinner at a restaurant. I’d never been asked out, and I didn’t want to be alone on Valentine’s Day, so I said yes, even though I wasn’t interested in him. But for some reason my anxiety never shut off, and I barely ate that weekend, avoiding the few open food places where I knew he would be. Because he said that if he saw me beforehand he would ask me out in person. When the night came, he kept making me uncomfortable, and I couldn’t understand why. I blamed myself, for being socially awkward and anxious. I was the one who talked on the date. I described my high school, gave little anecdotes, and just made conversation. He mostly asked me questions, especially during dinner. I stayed guarded, and thank God I did. At one point he noted that my family was really important to me, as I talked about them a lot, and I just felt myself break inside. It was like I was only my abuse. The rest of the night, after he dropped me off at my dorm, my depression suffocated me. I couldn’t shake it, even when my friend, M, invited me to McDonald’s for milkshakes.

The following day, I was working on a project in the library basement, when M texted me to not go near the guy. She eventually told me that she had talked with his ex-girlfriend that morning and found out that he was incredibly psychologically and verbally abusive, and this before he walked into M’s suite, without a warning or permission, looking for me. I... broke down a little. It seemed like I was cursed to encounter abuse. I flinched anytime I heard a door open, expecting him to be there. Thankfully another friend, @angelofdirewolves, was there with me. She, and M, and @bethgreenewarriorprincess and @allatariel got me through that night. Because it didn’t end at the library. Angel walked me back to my dorm right before 10, and within a few minutes of me being back, he was there, knocking at my door, asking if we could talk.

I froze. He was calling my name, and I couldn’t say anything at first. It was like my voice ran away. When you’ve been abused, the greatest fear is that they find you. That they take up your world until there’s nowhere left to run. College was my safe space, and he violated that.

Somehow, I found my voice, and I told him that I had to go to bed. That it was late, and had been a long day. He left, and the next morning I messaged him, telling him that I thought it best if we just stayed friends. I hoped it would end after that, as he agreed with me. It didn’t though. There was another incident in public that Friday. (Think of Trump walking back and forth behind Hillary at the debates, and you get the idea.) M had to chase him off, but he made sure to snag a good look at my face as he left the lounge we were in. 

You must understand: I go to a small school in the middle of nowhere, without any sort of transportation at my disposal. I was trapped. Thankfully M and I already had plans to spend the weekend at her parents’ a few hours away, so I had a two-day reprieve. That following Monday, she then pulled him aside before a class they shared and told him to stay away from me, indirectly threatening him. She was my knight in shining armor. While I still had to see him on campus, he never spoke a word to me. I might as well as have not existed to him. I kind of threw myself into TD at this point, as the show had come back too, and I needed a place to run to. 

In hindsight, I realized that I was so scared was because the warning bells were going off - I just didn’t know what they were at the time. I had subconsciously picked up on red flags even before the date. (This is called thin-slicing, and it evolved as survival mechanism: X.) I shut down, as M described it, because I had been triggered. The few incidents probably don’t qualify as stalking legally. But it felt like I had been that week. On a few occasions, I’ve seen his face in my dreams. I avoid references to dates or Valentine’s Day sometimes because it triggers my anxiety so much, in the form of nausea. Throughout the rest of the semester, he was a walking trigger for me.

At the same time, I learned that my mother is psychologically and emotionally abusive as well. I found old poetry from when I was in my early teens, and I was detailed. My episodic memory is shit, but there was a record, and thirteen-year-old me thinking that my parents hated me wasn’t that far off. She took her anger from my father’s abuse out on me. There was one particularly verbally violent altercation, where my father screamed at me and threw an empty milk jug across the counter and over the phone threatened to break my mother’s legs. After she got home, she shook me while I pretended to sleep. She then gaslit me, explaining it as her “wanting to give me a hug”. Since puberty, she’s cut me down with her sideways comments about my body. Like how I should cut back on certain foods - ones that she coincidentally don’t eat. The older I get, the more womanly I become, the more she resents me. I can feel it when she glances her eyes - my eyes, really - across my figure. She’s on the spectrum for shy narcissism, likely stemming from her own childhood trauma.

I met with my new counselor that week, and boy did I have a shit load for her. I thought I could forgive my mother, that if she got away from my father, then she’d be okay. My mother fixed that for me. The week after the stalking incident, I started seeing the school psychiatrist as well. I told my parents that it was to see if I had A.D.H.D.. I was also fighting a bad cold - my immune system shut down for obvious reasons. The day after I saw my psychiatrist, and spoke briefly about her on the phone, I saw that she had shared an article which explained how ADHD was “made up”. She gaslit me, and she did it out of spite, not out of pain from abuse. Somehow I got myself through a French quiz that afternoon, sneezing and sniffling the whole time and hazy with a fever, but I did. 

 Sunday nights were a bright point. I could see broken, traumatized people like me on TV, and they were fighting against a man a little like my father. I could laugh with them and mourn with them, because I was mourning too, and I’m still mourning. I’ve been researching abuse and abusers, reading what I can. Now I know that some of my father’s abuse could be considered physical. On the fourth, I fully accepted that my brother is abusive too. He’s becoming narcissistic like our mother - doesn’t matter how much he hates our father or how of a social justice warrior he is. He feels entitled to control me and tell me how to live my life, manipulative and coercive. He’s even tried to manipulate me through alcohol. And our two remaining friends from high school support him. Like my mother, he crossed a line that I understood as abuse, and I couldn’t stop running from the truth. So, I experienced the death of my entire family, and my childhood, and my perception of the world, in a matter of months.

Nothing is real for me anymore. I’ve had to question everything in my life and everyone around me. I can’t trust people easily, and I understand that I never could. How could I? The people meant to protect me just hurt me, and brainwashed me. They didn’t love me, not really. They “loved” the idea of me, whatever that was. The good, obedient daughter, I guess. The submissive sister. I no longer have a mom, just a mother. I never had one in the first place, really. They took my twin brother from me, the sweet boy I knew as a child, and twisted him into a monster.

But I understand where I fit here. In narcissistic families, I am the scapegoat. I am the black sheep. Which means that I’m the strongest, because I’m the one they keep trying to tear down. 

It still isn’t over.  And it won’t be over, not for a long time. But like I said, I research and teach myself. I can better fight against my family’s abuse if I know how they do it. I also better understand myself. My counselor and psychiatrist both diagnosed me with P.T.S.D., though more accurately I have C.P.T.S.D. or Complex P.T.S.D.. (I have depression and anxiety too, but they are more symptoms of the C.P.T.S.D..) It is a stress disorder where the survivor’s identity is woven from long-term trauma, one in which they had little hope for escape. Most survivors of childhood abuse probably have C.P.T.S.D., rather than P.T.S.D., and just don’t know it. It has all the symptoms of P.T.S.D., such as hyper vigilance, but the problems run deeper. One psychologist described it as being in a car accident once a week on average for ten years. There is no before for me - my abuse goes all the way back to when I was born. It affected me to the point that my brain did not develop properly: I have a shitty memory, as my brain learned to not remember. I essentially have childhood amnesia, except for certain flashes of memory. My trauma didn’t change me; it built me.

This summer is hard. I started antidepressants in April, but I am at the lowest possible dosage. They do nothing for me now, and I can’t get the dosage increased until I go back to school. I know that the medication isn’t working because this is my first summer where I am wide awake and processing my abuse, knowingly living with my abusers. One of the reasons it took me so long to come back to Team Delusional was because I just spent May and June on the couch, too tired and too depressed to do anything. I never cried before all of this, or even teared up. I just went numb, felt nothing, because I couldn’t feel. I wasn’t allowed to feel growing up. Now, I cry everyday, even when I’m at work. I have daily headaches and often nausea. I hate it when people criticize how Maggie grieves because we grieve the same way. I too throw myself into work, I push myself and push the pain out of my mind. I keep going because the second I have a moment to myself, I’m drowning. 

In new ways, everyday, I feel twenty years worth of trauma and abuse. Sometimes when I think about it all, it feels like my brain will crack. I can’t keep living with these people, and I won’t. I will find a way to get out. But it also means cutting out my entire extended family, because abuse and neglect and trauma connect us all. We keep each other secrets, and we tell each other that this is normal, but it’s not. It’s bullshit. The impending loneliness though, that gets me. I started crying in a Target because my friend bought her mom a birthday card, and that’s something I will never have. I'll even have to leave my fucking pets behind.

On top of all that, the stalking incident came back recently. My school sends out updates on its graduates, and the guy gradated in May. Just last week I received an email that mentioned how he got in a big city. And it hit me that he can still come back into my life, even by proxy. I never reported him to Public Safety because I knew they wouldn’t do anything as his attempted psychological abuse of me wasn’t “severe” enough. He was never punished. So he can still hurt other girls. Just like how my brother will probably hurt any boyfriends and children he’d have. Probably like how my dad abused his ex-girlfriends, since my mom couldn’t have been the first.

But in one of my first sessions with my counselor, she said something profound. She said something along the lines of, “They took your childhood, but they don’t get your adulthood.” I typed up the quote on my blog, and it has grown into one of my most popular posts (X). Almost everyday I see strangers liking or reblogging it, people who don’t even follow me or would have interest in this blog’s main content. I probably tell myself that quote several times a day now. So I can’t give up. I can’t let my abusers win. During my research, I learned that most survivors heal by finding meaning in what happened. It’s not easy to write about this. Writing about these experiences make them real and forces me to feel them up close. But my stories, my mistakes and lessons, they can help others. We can’t get rid of these problems in our homes and in our cultures if we stay silent. The more I speak up, the more I can save the little girls out there. The little girl I never could be.

And I am sorry for all the sadness in this mini personal essay. It’s just my life at the moment. But if I learned anything from Beth’s story, it’s that there is light on the other side. This year, I also discovered that unconditional love is a key ingredient to personal growth.  I became closer with college friendships, such as M and Angel. I grew closer with Christy. I started talking to allatariel in September. I cobbled together a family. While I may be an emotional orphan, I still have people I can run to. At nineteen, I finally learned what it feels like to be truly loved.

And that’s why I’m thankful for Team Delusional and the Greene Effect, and the Beth Greene/Bethyl community at large. This community gives me purpose and a place to escape mentally. It led me to some of the most supportive friendships in my life, people who could counsel through my lowest moments and validate the aftermath of my traumas. And it led them to me, so I could do the same. 

I would not wish my experiences and pain onto anyone, not even my own abusers. Abuse did not make me a better person. With that being said, I am thankful for the difficult recovery process, because it has showed me the power of kindness. It unlocked the empathy I had to bury in order to survive. It better prepared me to help others.

Today, Kesha released her new song, Praying. Usually I am not a fan of her music, but it feels like this song was meant for me, right now.

In November, I had Taylor Swift’s song, Better Man, to help me get through the first bitter taste of realizing how abusive my family is. It is only fitting that another song would be there for me at the end of one stage of processing. Because I buried my family in my heart this week. 

I’m going to survive. This is my Slabtown, and I know there’s an elevator. It’ll be a hard descent into darkness, but like Beth, I will keep going until I find the exit. For all of my followers who have been abused and are still being abused, you can make it too. We aren’t dead girls. We are ballerinas hiding in music boxes until it’s safe to dance, and as you all know, the music box will play again one day. That is my faith, that is my hope. What is yours?

[l-e-i-n-t-h]

theamazingcat

answered your post:

“The way I ship Bethyl”

:

I think my biggest problem with your argument is you constantly referring to an adult woman as a girl. It’s a very deeming and sexist.

Thank you for your reply. 

Ummm… what does deeming means? Something like judgemental or such?

I don’t feel I’m being sexist. If the situation was the other way around, with young Brad hooking up with mature Darla, I would be saying EXACTLY THE SAME THINGS, WORD BY WORD. 

You can call it ageist, if you want, cause I’m doubting their decisions based on their age. 

I call my characters “girl” or “boy”, until they’re… I don’t know, 30. In my post, I was mostly talking about my hypothetical poor daughter. But anyway, this is not the important part of my argument.

I don’t think coming of age is a threshold you magically cross in your 18th birthday. Yes, legally, you’re an adult: you can drink, you can smoke, you can have sex with an adult (but not with a 17 yo, ha!), you can drive, you can sign up a contract, and you can go to jail. But emotionally and intellectually, coming of age is a process. 

And it’s a natural process that can’t be accelerated. Suffering does not make you wiser, in my opinion, only… sadder. You don’t get to “grow up too soon”, because of a lot of crap happening in your life. I've seen this in real life. The crap does not accelerate your growth, it stops it, until you get the time or the help you will certainly need for to resume your process. 

Look at Daryl. The unhealthy environment in which he spent his childhood, stopped him from emotionally growing up. At least until some emotionally healthier people entered his life... Ok, well... Not exactly healthier, if I think of Rick and Carol, but at least with more complete emotional systems, and with a more trained ability for loving. 

He started to believe he wasn't a bad man, thanks to Carol. He started to believe he deserved love and forgiveness, even at his worst, and specially when things weren't his fault, thanks to Rick. And specially thanks to Beth. 

I think I'm digressing, right? Sorry. 

At 18, do I think of Beth like AN ADULT WOMAN? No. Maybe in some aspects, but not entirely. I’m a teacher, I had 18 yo students. At 18, a person still needs guidance and protection. Not as much as when she was younger, but still. Nope, nopity nope.

I'm 31 now. If I look at my past self, and the decisions i made when I was 18... Wow. I need to tell myself: "hush, hush. You couldn't make it any better, because you didn't know better. You were the exact product of your upbringing, you couldn't know anything but what was taught to you, these were the materials you were made of, back then". Still some years passed until I was able to actually construct my own self. 

I know Beth was different to me. And she was doing pretty much ok, actually quite well, apocalypse and all. She lived in a happy home before everything happened, and that gave her more emotional tools, and a better support network to live through all this crap. But, to saddle her with her own survival and growth, and also with Daryl’s, with all his issues, could be too much to shoulder for a girl... a woman that young. It could be dangerous for her, in fact.

So there it is why I call her girl. 

[flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash]

Are there any new Negan fanfic writers that you particularly like or have started reading that you could recommend?

To be honest, I’ve been avoiding answering asks about authors/stories I recommend, and I just encourage people to go to @negans-network and browse through the fics on there, to see which  you like. The reason why I avoid answering these asks is because 1. there are so many amazing Negan authors now, that I couldn’t possibly list all of them 2. I know that there are plenty of authors I’m unaware of, because I am unable to read the majority of Negan fics due to lack of time and the huge quantity being produced and 3. I feel bad naming certain authors over others, and don’t want people who aren’t listed to feel “less than” or slighted. I hope that makes sense :)

Also, to be perfectly honest, I’ve currently been reading a lot of Bethyl in my spare time (my original OTP, and my obsession before Negan came along). I’ve been slowly devouring every smut story written by Schwoozie on AO3, since she writes Bethyl, as well as Beth/Rick, and Daryl/Beth/Rick, and her writing is a-ma-zing. Just in case anyone is interested in those pairings :) 

[ultimatebethylficlist]

Bethyl Directory

If you haven’t joined the directory yet, message me your information. Looking for fan pages, writers and betas to be apart of a network of Bethyl sites. Check out the directory here.  

[darkmystress00]

Moonshine, Mistakes, and the Morning After ch 26

Beth tapped her pencil against her textbook as she scrolled through the discussions and forums for her online class. Her mind was going a mile a minute. After the scare back in January, she had been trying her best to throw herself into her studies. Two months later and she was nearing the middle of her term, and getting ready for mid-terms. She groaned and snapped her book shut, her shoulders stiffening as she heard a snort come from somewhere behind her in the vicinity of the couch. She turned to face Daryl, who was lounging on the couch watching her.

One prim blonde eyebrow quirked up on her forehead. “What has you snickerin’ over there, Mr. Dixon?” She said, trying to add a playful layer of ice to her tone (it didn’t work.)

“I ain’t snickerin’.” He cracked a half smile. “I’m laughing because I knew it would take you about fifteen minutes to get fed up with your classes on a Saturday, and it’s only been about ten.” He gave her a look she had long since nicknamed his ‘sassy look’ (though she’d die before telling him that she called it that) and stood up. “Y’need to get outta the house.” He grabbed her coat from the couch next to him and tossed it at her. “C’mon. It’s almost time to be headin’ over to your dad’s house anyway.” She let out a small groan before a secretive smile had crept to her lips. Maggie had called yesterday fit to burst and said she needed to talk to the whole family. A quick lunch date at the farm had been set up for today.

Beth and Daryl had been taking bets. He had money saying she and Glenn had gotten knocked up. Beth stoutly refused to think she was becoming an aunt (not because it was out of the realm of possibility, but because she knew babies weren’t anywhere near Maggie and Glenn’s radar…and Maggie was always very careful) and placed her money confidently on the idea that Maggie had gotten that dream job she’d interviewed for two weeks prior. Daryl had rolled his eyes. Winner takes all (a whopping five dollars.)

“True. I gotta find out that you were wrong so I can get my big payday.” Daryl let out another snort.

“Think we should pick up a onesie on our way for when she lets us all know that I’m right?”

“Not on your life.” She chirped as she shrugged on her jacket and snatched up her keys. She followed Daryl out, watching him as he moved and smiled to herself. Since everything had gone down in January she’d started taking the time to really analyze their relationship as well as Daryl himself. She knew she loved him, but she’d never really taken the time to consider where this was going. So far in the relationship she was living in the moment, which was fine, but the scare had given her a good shake and made her start looking to the future.

She didn’t tell him, mind you, not because she didn’t want to, but after the whole baby-that-never-was he’d started getting short and distant when they talked about the future. She didn’t want to make waves, they’d only been together less than a year. She jerked when she realized…they were coming up on the one year anniversary of their first night together (the night they still couldn’t remember). Had it really been that long? Butterflies started in her tummy. She wanted to do something for him to celebrate but right now didn’t feel like it would be the best decision right now.

The pair piled into Daryl’s truck and Beth made a mental note that she needed to make an appointment to get her car into the shop for that weird ticking that was coming from the motor. It had started on her way back from Atlanta last month, but had steadily gotten worse as time progressed. They’d decided to try and not drive it until they could have it looked at, which Beth needed to get done before her drive to school this week. It effectively left them in a one-car predicament and Beth knew Daryl couldn’t go without his truck if she needed to take it to school. No, it was better if she just got her car taken care of before school.

“Damn…” She heard Daryl mutter and her blue eyes darted to him.

“What?”

“Forgot to mention that I took your car to the shop. They’re gonna call and let us know if it’s something serious.” Her face softened and she smiled at him.

“How’d you know I was just thinkin’ ‘bout that?”

“I can tell your thinkin’ face.” He said simply with a shrug. He wouldn’t tell her that she had many ‘thinking faces’ that he recognized. She had her ‘school thinking face’ which often had her gently touching her temple like she was trying to figure out a problem. She had her as-of-yet unnamed ‘thinking face’ (he didn’t know what she was thinking about but she was thinking something serious) where she’d roll her lips back and her eyes glazed a little bit. This new ‘thinking face’ had only started cropping up after “the scare” (as Beth liked to call it) in January, but Daryl couldn’t work up the nerve to ask her about it. The last ‘thinking face’ he’d seen he’d deemed as her ‘fretting face.’ She used it when she was fretting or worrying about bills, or something that had to do with responsibilities. The face he’d just seen was her ‘fretting face’ and he knew she’d been fretting over the car for the past couple of weeks.

“My thinkin’ face huh?”

“Yup, your ‘thinkin’ face.’” He mumbled quietly as he turned onto the main highway. “Anyway, took it in this mornin’ and they said it sounds like the timing belt, but they’d have to take a good look at it ‘fore they could say for sure.” She smiled, nodded and then leaned over to plant a kiss to his cheek.

“You spoil me.” She said before she kissed his cheek once more. “Thank you.” He gave her a silent shrug but she noticed the corners of his mouth tug up into a small smile for her. He took her hand in his, and she laced their fingers together. The rest of the ride passed by in relative silence, only the radio really making much sound in the small space between them, but it wasn’t strained or awkward between them. Before long they were pulling up the familiar dirt road, tires kicking up a cloud behind them. He rumbled to a stop just under one of the big trees by the porch and noticed a big grin on her face. Before he could ask she was speaking. “You ready to fork up the big bucks?” She undid her belt and popped out of the truck faster than he could blink.

He followed, watching her bounce up the stairs and inside the big farm house. “Daddy?” She called as she entered the living room. Daryl heard something from the field behind him, pausing as he mounted the steps to look over his shoulder.

“Beth…” He called. “He’s out here.” Daryl turned as he heard the old screen door creak open and she came up behind him. They watched as Hershel Greene made his way steadily across the field between the house and the barn. He was wiping his hands on a rag as he went.

“Sorry…” Hershel called as he neared the couple standing on his porch. “The mare wasn’t due to birth until later this week, but she’s been in labor all morning. Been working with Otis to get the foal out. Little thing was breached, but we got ‘im.” He gave a nod and smiled fondly up at his daughter. “Come inside with me so I can clean up and you can check on lunch Bethy.” She gave a hum as she turned to make her way inside. “Hello Daryl, how are you today?”

“Breathin’ so that’s better than some folks.” Hershel nodded.

“Ain’t it though?” The pair of men made their way inside. The smell of roast assaulting their noses as they made their way to the kitchen.

“This is ready to pull out and rest.” Beth announced as they entered the room. “Much longer’n it’ll be too dry. Might be close to there already.” She said matter-of-factly. She pursed her lips. “I’ll make a gravy from the drippin’s in case it got over cooked.”

“I’m sorry Bethy.” Hershel sighed. “I just tossed everything in the pan and went out to help Otis. Didn’t think I’d be out there so long. ‘Sides, it always was your mama who made the roasts without over cookin’ it.”

“I know. She had that magic touch.” Daryl watched as Beth floated around the kitchen she’d grown up in, grabbing bowls and pots to drain the juices and start making the gravy. He loved to watch her work in the kitchen. It was part of the reason he let her cook so often (that and she loved to cook in their little kitchen.) He could burn water more times than not, so the concept of feeling at home in the kitchen was new to him.

As Beth stood, whisking the gravy together they heard another engine rumble up along the path. All eyes turned towards the front door as they heard the crunch of dirt and rock stop, and then engine cut off. “Must be Glenn and Maggie.” Hershel said, drying his hands after washing them. “I’ll be right back.” With that Hershel made his way out to greet the couple.

The three bustled into the kitchen in a flurry of movement and sound (as was typical of Maggie and Glenn nowadays) and Daryl had to take a deep breath to cope with the sudden change in atmosphere.

“Alright y’all…” Maggie started, obviously very excited. “I can’t wait for lunch to be served.” Beth’s eyes darted over to Daryl, a playful glint hiding in her crystalline orbs. “Daddy, Beth…Daryl,” Maggie turned to look at Glenn. “Glenn proposed y’all. We’re getting’ married!”

The moment of shocked silence stretched between them before a loud girly squeal emitted from Beth’s throat and she launched herself at her sister. “Oh my goodness!” Beth let out another squeal and hugged her sister again. Maggie dragged her hand up to show Beth the ring as the two gushed and cooed about the wonderful news.

Daryl eyed Glenn, standing against the door jamb, next to Hershel. “Looks, like I’m gettin’ another son.” Hershel said with a small smile. “Welcome to the family Glenn.” Hershel patted Glenn on the shoulder. The men watched as Beth and Maggie moved out of the kitchen, lunch completely forgotten, and Daryl couldn’t help the heavy weight that seemed to be pressing down on his chest. As soon as Maggie had blurted out that she was getting married, Daryl had felt the unmistakable urge to swallow his tongue. It wasn’t that he was against marriage, but after everything had happened between Beth and him, he’d had a chance to think about their future (not something he’d really dared before.)

Daryl wasn’t afraid of commitment, but he’d never seen a good marriage actually work. What did he know about being married or being a good husband? Not a damn thing. Did he see himself getting hitched to Beth? Well, hell, he just didn’t know. He knew he didn’t want whatever they had to end, but marriage? That was a path he’d never really considered before.

Lunch was a blur of jokes and the girls talking. Maggie and Beth were planning dress shopping dates, and talking things that sounded plain gibberish to him. Caterers, and venues, and florists. Jeez, weddings sounded complicated. He caught Beth’s eyes and she smiled at him, clearly elated for her big sister, and Daryl felt something tighten in the vicinity of his heart. There was this excited glimmer in her eyes that screamed of excitement and happiness. He’d never seen anything like it before, and it positively captivated him.

Glenn nudged him quietly, “Didn’t realize this was going to turn into a big thing…” He mumbled and Daryl had to keep from snorting.

“You just proposed to a Greene girl…there ain’t no way it wasn’t goin’ to be a big thing.” Glenn grinned at him.

“Looks like you’ve got a sneak peek at what to expect when it’s your turn.” Daryl grit his teeth and instantly Glenn knew that was the wrong thing to say. “I mean…if you guys decide…I mean…uh…” Daryl gave a short grunt and that was the end of the conversation. Glenn shifted nervously in his seat.

Daryl couldn’t help the pinch of sympathy the stole through him at the younger man’s discomfort. He didn’t want it to seem like marriage was completely off the table…it just wasn’t something he’d ever really thought about for himself. He looked over at Beth again. After the whole scare, the idea of a more permanent thing with Beth had become more of a reality. He saw the glimmer in her eyes again and was flooded with a warmth in his chest.

One thing he knew for sure, he wanted to see that excited glimmer in Beth’s eyes everyday for the rest of his life. He wanted to see that excitement, that joy, that dreamy-eyed glint that he knew most girls grew up with when they thought about their dream wedding.

It was like a light bulb turned on in Daryl’s mind. He wanted to marry Beth Greene…and he was so filled with feelings about it he didn’t know what to do. Beth reached over without looking at Daryl took his hand gently under the table and Daryl hid a small smile.

Yeah, he wanted to marry Beth Greene alright…and he wanted to spend the rest of his life seeing that glimmer in her happy gaze.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

Hey! So I'm a big bethyl shipper. Even tho I have a question. I personaly do think that Beth is alive, but I don't think that AMC is going to get back Emily Kinney for a reunite with daryl and Maggie or something like that. So my question is: What made you think that Emily Kinney is coming back to TWD and play beth again?

If we’re right and she’s coming back, we think that when she left in S5, she did so knowing full well that she would be back and having already contracted with them to come back and play Beth again.

A story line this big wouldn’t be put into place without a prior plan. I mean, if they’re just killing her off, then no big deal. They wouldn’t need to contract her to come back for anything in particular. 

But if they knew they were doing a death fake out, and that she would return 5 seasons later, they wouldn’t plan to do that without working the contract out with her first. Otherwise, they would have no control over where she was in her career 5 years later and no guarantee that she could come back and work for them. 

And this is exactly what we think happened. From things the actors and tptb have said, evidence outside the show (such as the fact that Emily has never done any big films or acting jobs since TWD, though she could have done anything she wanted coming off it; and in fact has mostly worked for AMC’s sister network ABC, which kind proves she’s still in some sort of contract with them), and how we know contracts work in general, we think she’s still in a contract with AMC and has always known she’d be back to play Beth again. 

At this point, she’s probably already done some more filming for what’s to come. Hope that helps! Xoxo! 😋

[twdmusicboxmystery]

So the official walking dead Snapchat put a bunch of scenes from coda on their Snapchat and was calling it “one of the best episodes of all time” I’m not TD anymore but just thought I’d let you know cause if that isn’t fishy that’s I don’t know what it. Honestly think they’re just trolling us at this point

Ooh interesting! Yeah Snapchat is about the only major social network I don’t and have never had, so I’d miss anything posted there. And that’s definitely fishy. I mean, you could say they’ve been trolling us for years, but notice how you don’t find people very often bringing up other episodes or characters and saying stuff like this. Yeah, they might become relevant during marathons, but it always seems to be Beth and Bethyl episodes that get this kind of attention. 

Obviously I loved all of Beth episodes, but there are others I think are some of the show’s greatest as well, such as Pretty Much Dead Already and Too Far Gone (basically the beautiful, tragic ones ;D). But no one ever says this about those episodes anymore.

Not to mention, Still would be one thing, but Coda is almost universally regarded as one of the worst episodes ever, not just because of Beth’s “death” but because of the writing and format of the episode. It felt like they meandered off in weird directions and then Beth’s “death” came so suddenly and out of nowhere that everyone got whip lash. So for them to call Coda “one of the best” is just weird.

On the other hand, if Beth returns and everyone can finally appreciate the complete mind screw going on in that episode, everyone will suddenly be in total awe of it. So this makes me very hopeful.

Thanks for sharing this, Nonny. It was something I didn’t know. Xoxo! 💖

[bethgreeneishopeunseen]

Hello queen, my friend tagged me in this post on facebook and I thought it would be of interest to you.

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Thank you, that’s sweet. I appreciate you sending me information, though I actually already knew about this event. I discussed it in another submission about Emily’s panels: X. I am very interested in this event as it’s sanctioned by the network, and the episode is 4x08, which set off Bethyl and Beth’s Heroine’s Journey. I love how this post also includes Beth as a main character. It’s like, yes, London, speaking the gospel truth.

[bethgreeneishopeunseen]

This is a question that I want to hear your opinion about. How much power do RK have on the TV show? Something tells me that SG originally went to fake out "kill" Beth and then take her back but I feel like the reason that hasn't happened yet is because of RK. He's a well known anti Bethyl and was even rude to EK at 4x8 Talking Dead. That would explain the 100 easter eggs found of her non-return and I feel like RK would know SG would like to pair her with Daryl, therefor wanting her dead.

I agree that Kirkman has some pull, hence Glenn’s death and the brutality of it onscreen. He created the comics, has written for the show, and he is an executive producer. But at the same time, we have so much evidence pointing to Beth and AMC wouldn’t have greenlight the arc if they didn’t believe in it. The network is notoriously cheap, such as them wanting to slash the last season of Breaking Bad in half. They would not pay for Beth’s arc, including the missing footage from season 5, to only scrap it, especially since they fired Glen Mazzarra for doing the same thing to Andrea. Allusions to Beth also wouldn’t continue two years later if she did not matter to the storyline and to TPTB. Furthermore, Daryl wouldn’t still be mourning and wouldn’t be essentially stalled as a character if Kirkman wanted to erase Bethyl.

[darkmystress00]

#35 please and thank you!!

Daryl stared down the sight of his crossbow. He took a soft breath sighting a deer before pulling the trigger and watching as the bolt hit its target; the soft spot in the lung-heart region. The deer went down and Daryl stood up from his perch, marching over to it. He needed to clean and dress it before he could haul the carcass back to Alexandria. Technically they didn’t need the meat, but seeing as how Aaron was out on a recruiting mission with his boyfriend today, Daryl found himself with nothing to do. Well, nothing but think about the one ray of sunshine that was missing from his life.

Beth. Damn, how he missed her. Her laugh, her smile, even her learning how to track and hunt with the crossbow. She had been special. She’d pulled him from a dark place after the prison fell, and he’d watched the senior Greene killed right before his very eyes. She’d picked him up and pulled him from the dark hole he’d fallen into. She’d done it with her words, and her belief and trust in him. So much for that trust. That trust had gotten her kidnapped. She’d trusted him to meet her up the street. She’d believed he’d make it out of that funeral home, and had followed his instructions without hesitation, and it had gotten her kidnapped, and ultimate killed.

Daryl yanked the bolt from the deer, wiping it on his pants before loading it back into the crossbow. He scowled to himself. He wasn’t going to think about how it had felt like the sun had gone out when she’d been shot. He wasn’t going to acknowledge how it had felt like a huge chunk of himself had been ripped away when she’d slumped and fallen, lifelessly, to the floor. He wasn’t going to analyze the dull throbbing ache that had started after he’d picked up her limp body to carry her out of the hospital, nor how it hadn’t lessened at all over time (in fact it had only gotten worse.) He definitely wasn’t going to admit to the fact that, even now, he struggled to cope with the enveloping agony that swept over him every time he woke, and rarely left (even in his dreams.) He was trying to move on, trying to cope, because that was what she would have wanted for him.

She wouldn’t have wanted him to go back. She would want him to keep on getting better, and being good, rather than back-sliding to where he’d been before the moonshine shack, before the fire, before ‘oh…’

As Daryl bent to start skinning and dressing the deer, he heard twigs snapping and underbrush rustling. He stilled, waiting and listening. Nothing. As he moved to begin again the same rustling started and without thinking, Daryl abandoned the deer and scooped up his crossbow. He moved deliberately towards where the sounds were coming from, following as snaps and rustling led him further and further away from where he’d started. He was hunting something, but for once in his life, he couldn’t tell what. On quiet feet, Daryl changed direction, hoping to cut off what ever prey he was following. He moved quickly around, dodging lose debris and branches lest he give himself away.

With a quick side step, Daryl emerged into a small (really small) clearing, crossbow up and ready to take the shot. He stared down his sight at the person in front of him, and his eyes widened. His eyes took in mused blonde hair that he remembered being longer, hard blue eyes that he remembered being softer, a soiled yellow shirt. His crossbow dipped as his eyes focused on the girl in front of him, staring him down the arrow of her own bow (a compound bow) until she started (as if seeing him for the first time). They stayed like that, weapons dipped down towards the ground, eyes glued to one another like they’d never thought they’d see each other again. Truthfully neither one of them had ever expected see the other again.

“Beth.” He breathed, but it was enough to jerk her out of whatever trance she had been in. Wordlessly, she dropped her weapon, stepping over them without a care. Her hands came up, fingers tangling in the front of his vest, as she stood up on tip toes. Her lips pressed against his and his mind went blank. She pulled back to look at him in wonder a small smile gracing her lips. “I thought…” he couldn’t even complete the sentence burning on the tip of his tongue.

“I know.” Her soft voice, heaven to his ears, floated around him. “They found me, in that trunk. They found me and fixed me up. As soon as I was ready I left. I went to Richmond but…” She trailed off and he knew why. There wasn’t much left of Richmond. “I ran into a guy who told me about this place, Alexandria.” She took a steadying breath (still, thankfully, not letting go of him.) “After Richmond…I came here.” He couldn’t stop the swell of pride that filled him. She was so smart and resilient. “Are the others?”

“Fine. They’re all fine.” He rumbled, his first real sentence to her. His head was still foggy and floating, unable to process that Beth Greene was alive and standing right in front of him, and that she’d just kissed him. She smiled up at him and took a small step back, and then another, until she released him completely. “We need ta get you inside. The others deserve…” She nodded at him, stooping to pick up her bow. It reminded him of the deer carcass he’d left behind. To hell with it. As she swung her bow over her shoulder he felt her eyes on him, staring at him. He fidgeted under her gaze.  “What?”

“You’re wearing my knife.” She smiled. “Take it off.” He blinked, trying to process her words. She motioned to the knife on his belt (her knife which he never took off ever.)

“So what if I am?” He challenged, a small smile on his lips as her eyes narrowed playfully.

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.” She held her hand out. “You gotta ask before you just claim someone’s stuff.” She grinned up at him and he could help the bloom of heat that filled him and made the tips of his ears burn.

“Didn’t claim.” He moved to unhook the knife before delicately setting it in her palm. “Was just holdin’ on to it, until you could come get it.”

Send me a number I’ll write you a drabble