Jul 22, 2018
BETHYL ON
seen from United Kingdom
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BETHYL ON
Summer of Bethyl ‘18
As we close out this week I just wanted to say a few words.
I am absolutely blown away by the participation from everyone this week and the sheer talent that this fandom has. I find myself in awe of the writing and creativity that each one of you possesses and it is truly humbling to be surrounded by such amazing people.
I realize that our community has gotten smaller over the years, due to the fact that half of our ship is currently in question (or dead if you want to go that route), and yet here we are, still standing proudly and sharing with one another our own thoughts and imagination.
Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for making this week a true success. To those who came up with the idea and let me take the lead on it, to those who participated in their own way, or even those of you who just read or reblogged the posts. You all play such an important part in this community and fandom and I really hope that you enjoyed this week as much I have.
I feel a sense of rejuvenation within and it certainly makes me want to produce more for all of you to enjoy.
Thank you all once again and I love you all dearly for what this week meant!
Rushing, Racing, Running
My contribution to the Summer of Bethyl 2018 "rush" prompt. Bashed this out in two hours, so I hope it's not too shabby.
Word count: about 560
Warnings: mild language
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They always had to be ready to run. From walkers, from hostile strangers, even from nature itself whenever it threw a storm up on the horizon. Whatever shelter they found, it never lasted long.
Daryl was used to pushing himself, to urging his body past its limits, when strength and stamina were burned out and it was sheer stubbornness that kept him moving. Beth, however, wasn't. She did her best to keep up with him whenever they were on the move, never saying a word to complain or ask if they could stop, but he watched her closely, and when she looked ready to collapse he called them to a halt.
Those moments of rest were the loudest, when it was most important to be quiet. They made way too much noise between them, chests heaving as they gasped for breath, but he could never hear that over the rushing of his pulse in his ears, his heart pounding so hard he was surprised it didn't crack his ribs. He would look up every now and then and see her with her fingers on the pulse in her wrist, measuring her own heartbeat and trying to breathe in a way that it slowed down, and he knew she felt the same rush he did.
The quiet after that rush, those brief moments when they didn't have to run...first it was torture. His head filled itself with grief and guilt, thinking of the home and the people they'd lost. He knew it was on her mind, too, the way she'd talk so determined to look for the rest of their family and she damn near drove him crazy with her optimism and hope when to him, it was just a waste of time.
Then the quiet was cleansing, like some of the shit he'd been carrying inside had been washed away. Somehow it had, and she'd done it herself. He'd pushed her away and she'd pushed back, standing her ground and calling him out when all he could do was rage at her until there was no more anger left and the pain came flooding out. She was there for that, too, holding onto him with her arms and later with her words. Words that seemed too wise for someone her age but lit a fire somewhere inside him...not unlike the fire they'd lit to their shelter before racing off again.
Running was different after that. With that fire she'd lit burning more and more like hope, he felt like they might not just be running away anymore. Maybe running towards something. And all he knew to do was track it, follow it back to where it lived, and see it for himself.
And the rush that gave him when he finally saw where they might be heading, it didn't slow down anymore. It followed him into the quiet moments. It started back up whenever he found himself watching her, almost the same way he'd been watching her since they started running. Almost, but not quite, because something felt different when he looked at her now. He felt different. He couldn't hear the quiet over the racing of his heart, the hammering of his pulse, the rush in his veins.
And after awhile, all he had to do was look at her to see she felt it too.
Beth goes for a walk in the prison yard. Submission for Summer of Bethyl 2018
Written by AngelxPhoenix
(I didn’t see the link anywhere else i thought I would share it)
Summer of Bethyl Day Two - Calm
BETHYL FanFiction FLOWER POWER Daryl Dixon Beth Greene 1960′s au
New Chapter Post: FLOWER POWER: He took his time as slowly; one by one he loosened the buttons of her dress. Daryl & Beth BETHYL Love
https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12885590/18/Flower-Power
https://archiveofourown.org/works/14086659/chapters/35881923
Caught Staring
Sneaking this in under the wire... Day four of Summer of Bethyl 2018! Here's mine for "heat."
Word count: 838
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The sun beating down felt like a physical weight on Beth's shoulders. Some of that was probably Judith's weight as she carried her in her arms, but it was hot out, for sure. Maybe it had something to do with no electricity for air conditioning, but she couldn't remember summer ever being this hot.
She was out for a walk in the yard around the prison, hoping there was a breeze outside that was nonexistent inside the cell block. She wasn't the only one, either; it looked like half of their people were out there as well. A few of them greeted her as she passed, most of them had a smile for Judy, and every last one of them looked like the scorcher was taking its toll.
She passed Rick and Daddy as they were looking over the crops, and Rick took the moment to take his daughter from her, kissing her forehead before going back to his conversation. Beth wiped the sweat from her brow and relaxed her arms gratefully. Judith was getting bigger and while she still wasn't too heavy to hold, carrying her around for any length of time was another matter.
She looked around the yard and it felt peaceful. There were no walkers along the fence, the people from Woodbury were adapting to the rest of the group, they had food and shelter and the work they put into this place was paying off.
It felt like home.
Her eyes fell on a figure sitting apart from everyone else, shaggy hair and broad shoulders enough of a giveaway that she didn't need to see the crossbow in his hands to identify him. By himself, as always, and she had all but decided that was how he preferred it.
His attention was on his bow; she watched as he examined the string and the cables, reaching for a jar of wax and applying it with a few smooth, practiced strokes of his fingers. He lifted the bow to his eyes and checked the sights, then ran his hands over the limbs, and it occurred to Beth as she watched that she'd rarely seen him so relaxed or at ease.
Curiosity kept her watching, snared by the quiet confidence of his motions. He took an allen wrench from the maintenance kit at his side and tightened a few loose parts; of course he wasn't wearing sleeves, and she had a perfect view of his arms, muscles rippling as he twisted the wrench and flexing as he gave the bow a test draw. He made it look so easy, but everything she knew and heard about crossbows told her otherwise.
Strong enough to use that thing? No wonder his arms were so big...
He oiled the trigger and the track before setting the bow aside and moving onto his arrows. No, bolts, she corrected herself, and the work looked even more intricate. All of his focus was intent on the details, running his fingers along the shafts, carefully replacing damaged points and nocks, and going about the delicate work of fletching several of the bolts as though there was nothing else in the world worth the time and care.
If she thought about it, he'd been that way since day one. He dedicated himself to the task at hand with single-minded intent, and though he was hardly the type to brag about his abilities, he rose to each and every challenge put before him.
His hands were deft and capable, stripping off the old vanes and fixing new ones in place, and between those strong arms and those steady hands, that focus and that dedication, she was starting to wonder if there was anything in the world he couldn't do. For their family, there was nothing he wouldn't try, and she didn't have to wonder about that.
He glanced up and looked across the yard, his eyes locking with hers for a nanosecond before she looked away, embarrassed she was staring, embarrassed he caught her doing it, embarrassed to wonder what he was thinking she was thinking about to make her stare in the first place -
"Beth?"
She turned back to her father and Rick, both of them waiting for her to respond. She shuffled her feet awkwardly and cleared her throat before saying, "Sorry, what?"
"Just asking if you're feeling all right," Daddy replied. "You look a little flushed."
"Uh, yeah, I'm fine," she answered. "Just...been in the sun too long."
Rick nodded slightly in agreement, his eyes moving away from her to something - or someone - in the distance, and good Lord, what was he thinking she was thinking, if he knew who she was staring at? "It's pretty hot out here," he said lightly. "You might wanna find some shade for awhile and take it easy. Judith shouldn't be out in the sun too much."
She nodded, taking the baby from him and walking away, and she swore she could feel their eyes following her. Rick's, Daddy's...
Maybe even Daryl's.
Day Four Summer of Bethyl 2018 - HEAT