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breakyeol · 4 years ago

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Give Him a Show

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Genre: college au, friends to lovers au, suggestive, tiny pinch of angst

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: strong language, fuckboy!chanyeol being an complete asshole, !!! themes of harassment (not with malicious intent but it’s still not okay) !!! , mentions of drinking and marijuana use, mild groping, heavy making out

A/N ; hey guys. I feel like there is a slightly more serious topic addressed in this one shot. never let a man or woman or anyone treat you the way Chanyeol treats reader in this. don’t be afraid to put your foot down and tell them to fuck off. and if you don’t feel comfortable doing it then ask a friend or family member or anyone you trust for help. please be safe and don’t be afraid to say no ♡ also! this one shot in NO WAY portrays Chanyeol’s true character!! we all know that he is a respectful gentleman in real life thank you and goodnight

It was too often that you found yourself in places like this, surrounded by people like them.

Places like this being an entirely too crowded apartment, the scent of weed and sweat intertwining in the air, the deep bass of a song pulsing from unseen speakers causing the floor to vibrate beneath your sneaker clad feet.

People like them being your so called ‘friends’ who partied every weekend and got shit faced or cross faded every time an opportunity presented itself.

Don’t get it wrong, you knew how to get down and dirty with the worst of them. But tonight had been one of those nights— one of those nights that all you wanted was to sprawl yourself out in your bed and binge watch Scream for the gazillionth time while stuffing your face full of all your favorite snack foods. It hadn’t been the best day in the world, and just being able to sit back and unwind seemed like the most ideal use of your free time.

Unfortunately, that plan was abruptly negated when your friends got the brilliant idea of partying until their legs gave out. They found it of the utmost importance to drag you along as well, claiming dramatically it had been forever since you last hung out with them.

Since the beginning of the night, you had been tucked into the corner of the room on one of the unoccupied couches, pretending to nurse the cup of god knows what kind of alcohol, and wearing your best resting bitch face in hopes that everyone would just stay the fuck away. Thus far, the strategy had been successful. If someone started coming in your direction, all you had to do was shoot them an icy glare and they’d immediately spin around and walk in the opposite direction.

Though, there was one particular person that seemed to be completely oblivious to your blatant disinterest in being here.

“Y/n!��

You grimaced at the familiar booming voice, reluctantly tearing your eyes off of the window where you’d been counting the lights of passing cars on the street bellow. The one and only Park Chanyeol stood before you, signature lopsided smirk plastered across his face.

You’d known Chanyeol since high school, but you really only knew each other because of your mutual friends. In all honesty, you didn’t consider him much more than a good acquaintance. He was a sweet guy, funny and bright and very outgoing.

But, he was also one of the biggest fuck boys you’d ever met. And he was not shy in displaying the fact that he had wanted to hook up with you, to the point where you couldn’t even pretend that it was just your ego. Not-so-subtly eye fucking you whenever you walked into the room, constantly pressing you about your ideal man or what kind of guy you were interested in, finding any and every excuse to be near you or touch you in one way or another. It was all a bit excessive, especially considering that you just weren’t interested in him like that. Unfortunately, he couldn’t seem to get the hint— or, he just didn’t care.

All his indirect advances made it a bit uncomfortable for you to be around him. That was another reason you’d been subtly avoiding hanging out with the big group of friends, because he was always there. And every time you weren’t, he’d text or call you about it and you’d have to make up an excuse as to why you didn’t show.

It wasn’t even like he actually liked you, either. All that he wanted was to snag a quick fuck.

You’d told him straight up on several occasions that you just were not interested, when his advances got too much for you to put up with. He’d lay off for the rest of the night, and if you were lucky the rest of the next day. But by the next, he’d be right back to his flirting and excessive touching. The dude was relentless.

And it was honestly getting a bit exhausting.

But for tonight, you smile politely and just deal.

“Hey, Chanyeol.”

“I’m surprised you came!” He said, voice louder than usual, falling onto the couch beside you like it was where he belonged. You tensed at the feeling of his thigh pressing firmly against yours, and attempted to scoot away from him, only to be stopped by the arm rest digging into your side.

Shit. Did he not know about personal space? More than likely he did, but just didn’t give a fuck.

You only offered a mild nod of your head in response, lips tight, body rigid. He should have been able to feel it with how tightly he’d pressed himself up against you, should’ve felt the tension in your muscles, the uneasiness rolling off of you thick, heavy waves. But he didn’t even flinch, tossing a nonchalant arm over the back of the couch behind your head. You curled in on yourself as his fingers feathered over your shoulder, the corner of your lip lifting in an uncontainable grimace.

“Yeah, me too.”

For whatever reason, the stiff, grumbled response coaxed a round of guffawing belly laughter from the boy squeezed against you. Personally, you didn’t think it was all that funny.

“Well, I, for one, am very glad you came. But why are you over here all by yourself?”

You shrugged, sinking your teeth into the inside of your lip and turning away from him, opting to give your attention to the lack of stars visible in the light polluted night sky. “Just... not in the mood for all this, I guess.” The empty reply was intended to cut this one sided conversation short as soon as possible.

“Then... do you wanna get out of here?” He whispered the question against the shell of your ear, and you couldn’t help the way you lurched away from him. His breath reeked of vodka, the scent so strong that you couldn’t help the way your nose wrinkled in disgust. One thorough look at him was all it took to confirm your suspicions. His cheeks were flushed a deep red, his hooded eyes unfocused and bloodshot.

“You’re wasted, Chanyeol.” You deadpanned, arms folding over your chest.

“What?! N– no I’m not!” You could clearly hear the faint slur of his words now, only solidifying your point further. He was thoroughly shit faced. And if you weren’t too off base, you thought you caught a whiff of weed clinging to his plaid button up. “I’m fine, y/n!” He insisted, apparently lucid enough to catch the look of disbelief that flashed across your face. A sober Chanyeol was one thing, but dealing with him while he was cross faded? That was above your qualifications as an acquaintance.

“Listen, let’s just go somewhere, yeah?” He hiccuped and you almost hissed as one of his hands fell on your knee, and quickly pushed it away. A faint downward twitch of his lips was the only indication he even noticed it had happened, before he was covering it up with a wide grin and leaning in closer. “I know this great pancake place, open 24/7, most delicious milkshakes you’ve ever had in your life. Then maybe afterward we could... chill at my place. What do you say?”

You knew damn well that just ‘chilling’ was nowhere near being on this man’s mind.

“I say you’re drunk and need to lay down and drink some water.”

“Come on, y/n~” He whined at your blunt reply, and your brows furrowed in distaste as he tugged you closer, only to leap into your hairline when you caught his hazy gaze slip down to your mouth. He bit his lip, eyes fluttering. Fuck. Fuck. Was he going to kiss you? Shit. You couldn’t let this happen. But as you pulled away, he pushed further, and all at once you found yourself trapped against the wall. Fuck!

“I—!”

“Chanyeol.” Both yours and Chanyeol’s head turned, surprised by the sudden interruption. A soft breath of relief escaped your lips, though you also felt the familiar tug of embarrassment in the pit of your stomach.

“Sehun?” He mumbled, blinking in confusion.

“You’re fucked up, Chanyeol. Go drink some water.” The younger boy huffed, rolling his eyes.

“But I—”

“Seriously go, Chanyeol. Before you do something you regret when you sober up.” The exasperation in his voice brought a faint glower across Chanyeol’s face, but, to your relief, he pulled away. You watched with pursed lips as he stood on shaky legs and stumbled past his younger friend, roughly bumping his shoulder as he went.

“Fuck.” You cursed once he was out of ear shot, rubbing your palms over your face, frustration peeking.

When you looked up, Sehun was still standing there in his stupid leather jacket and ripped back jeans with his stupid black hair that fell perfectly over his annoyingly handsome face, pretty eyes narrowed into slits and focused sharply on you. You hated it when he looked like you like that. Hated the way your skin burned and your heart sped up in your chest. Hated the way your stomach stirred with butterflies. You hated it. But at the same time…

“What?” You sighed, grimacing at the faint quiver in your voice.

Sehun folded his arms over his chest. “You don’t have to put up with it, you know.”

“What?”

“It’s so obvious that you’re uncomfortable. Why don’t you just tell him to fuck off?” He asked, shifting his weight onto one hip.

“I have.” You groaned. “I’ve told him I’m not interested. He lets up for a bit but then he goes right back to pulling his usual shit.” You tried to explain, face twisting in irritation.

“Have you told him to go fuck himself?”

“Not in those words, exactly.” You admitted, rubbing at the back of your neck.

“Why not?”

“Isn’t it a bit mean? He’s an asshole but I don’t want to hurt his feelings or something...”

“Why the fuck should you care about his feelings when he refuses to consider yours?”

He wasn’t wrong.

Then again, Sehun is rarely wrong when it came down to things like that.

Even though he was the youngest, he always seemed to carry this strange sort of wisdom. He saw and understood things in ways your other friends, in ways most people just didn’t. He took the time to try and see deeper than most cared to look. You had always respected that about him.

While your other friends egged Chanyeol on, pushing you to get with him, Sehun saw past the fake smiles and forced laughter. He saw just how uncomfortable you really were. And he spoke up about it when he saw it going a bit too far. When Chanyeol got too touchy or too bold, he was usually the one to smack him upside the head and tell him to back off or pull you away. He was good like that. And it was nice to know that someone knew and was actually on your side.

Sehun had been a fixture in your friend group since high school. You hadn’t been very close to him at first because he was more on the quiet side and didn’t go out of his way to talk to you. Not to mention, the kid was intimidating as hell with all his leather jackets and ripped jeans and sharp, penetrating eyes.

Put bluntly, he scared the shit out of you the first time you met him. But then you saw him smile for the first time, saw the sweet blush that coated his cheeks when the older boys teased him, heard that goofy, high pitched laugh that rang like the loveliest bells in your ears, felt that unfamiliar fluttering in your chest. And you knew that you were done for.

The two of you hung out a lot in your freshman year of college, going on late night drives and blasting music and just living. For a while you thought that maybe— just maybe there was something there. A spark. A chance.

But he never made a move, and neither did you. Then there was Chanyeol and his flirting and annoyingly persistent determination to fuck you. Things got complicated and nothing ever ended up happening between the two of you. You thought you’d at least keep up the same momentum in your relationship, but Sehun started pulling away from you. His late night visits became less frequent, his texts dwindling to almost nonexistent, and his presence in your life becoming less and less every day. It hurt. But what the hell were you going to do about it? It was frustrating at first, but you got over it.

... kind of.

... not really.

That’s besides the point.

When you didn’t answer, Sehun sighed, taking a few tentative steps before dropping onto the couch beside you. You weren’t too sure how to feel about the space he left between you. It almost felt representative of the distance that had grown between the two of you in the past year. You didn’t like it.

“It’s not cool what he’s doing to you, you know that, right?” He asked, tilting his head at you. Concern shone through his gentle eyes, uncertainty. You couldn’t ignore the way your chest warmed at the thought that he cared. He cared about you, about your feelings. He cared, and you couldn’t begin to describe the immense joy that ignited inside of you. But you bit your lip to keep from smiling, to keep from sighing blissfully and melting into the familiar comfort of his presence brought you. The seriousness in his gaze kept you upright and alert, the topic at hand pulling you down from the brief high and you nodded gently.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Sehun pursed his lips, a thoughtful candescence falling over his handsome features. “I’ve known Chanyeol for a long time. He’s not a bad guy, but he is a fucking idiot and doesn’t always realize when he’s being a fucking idiot so sometimes you just gotta slap him in the face and tell him straight up to get his shit together. And he will.”

Just then, you spotted Chanyeol sauntering out of the kitchen, a water bottle gripped in his hand, a hazy kind of smirk on his face. You watched him toss an arm around Minseok’s shoulder and whisper something in his ear, tipping his head in your direction.

“You want him to back off?” You flinched at the unexpected closeness of Sehun’s voice, and made the mistake of turning to face him. He was close. So close. Close enough to count his eyelashes if you wanted. Close enough to see the faded pink of the scar on his cheek. Close enough to smell the subtle wisp of his earthy cologne. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin. Your heart began thundering violently in your chest, a blazing heat blossoming beneath your skin.

“Yeah.” The word came out as less than a breathless whisper. You didn’t miss the way his eyes flashed down to your lips, before quickly snapping back up to your eyes, searching them with a tenderness that made your heart throb.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” There wasn’t a moment of hesitation, not the faintest hint of uncertainty. It was the truth. You trusted him.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye, and you followed his gaze to find Chanyeol standing across the room staring intently in your direction with brows furrowed. Gentle fingers pressing into the curve of your jaw drew your attention back to the man sitting in front of you. Ever so slightly, he tipped his face closer, his nose nudging against yours. Shallow, insufficient inhales swirled in your lungs as your eyes fluttered, utterly overwhelmed by the mere closeness of him.

“Then follow my lead.”

His lips met yours with a gentleness you weren’t entirely prepared for. They were light and cautious, waiting to see whether you’d push him off or pull him in. He let out a soft breath of relief at the feeling of your hand curling around the back of his neck, urging him closer. In an instant, he relinquished his restrains, melting into the warm pressure of your lips as you simultaneously melted into his.

You’ve experienced your fair share of kisses in the past. But something about this one — whether it was the slow, deep pace of it, or the lingering presence of ring clad fingers tracing the length of your throat, or the mere fact that it was with Oh Sehun, the boy that could set your heart ablaze with a single smile — there was just something about this kiss.

When he pulled away, you could still feel the phantom warmth, tingling on your skin. You refused to open your eyes, trying to keep the sensation alive as long as possible.

“Is that alright?”

Finally, you looked at him. And god, had you ever seen a man so beautiful? His cheeks were flushed a soft, endearing pink, deep chocolate eyes hooded and melting, lips just a touch darker in shade then they had been before. You were so awestruck by him that it took you an extra moment to realize that he’d asked you a question.

You nodded, tightening your hold around his neck in order to pull him closer and breathe the word into his open mouth before closing the distance completely, “Yes.”

Immediately following your consent, any and all of Sehun’s lingering reservations vanished. His hands dropped away from your neck, one coiling tightly around the curve of your waist and flattening against the small of your back, the other gripping your jean clad thigh and tugging it gentle over his lap. The new position ignited a dangerously familiar heat in the pit of your stomach, that quickly began to swell into something large and uncontainable, spurred by the delicious pressure of his fingers and skilled movements of his lips.

He groaned deeply as you tugged at his hair, silky tendrils clenched in a tight fist. The sound resonated through your body, vibrating in your chest and shooting straight down to your growing arousal.

“Fuck that was sexy.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his throat and you realized with an embarrassed flush that you’d said that out loud. But the buzz of nerve was quickly soothed when he mumbled breathlessly, “right back atcha.”

He emphasized his point by sinking his teeth into the sensitive flesh of your lower lip and tugging, eliciting a low, drawn out moan from the depths of your chest. Smooth flicks of his tongue soothed the afflicted skin, before he asked for permission to enter, not waiting a single moment to dive in when it was granted.

Feeling the burn of someone’s stare, your eyes flicked open for a moment, sliding lazily over to where Chanyeol still stood, seemingly rooted into the spot. His eyes were wide, lips gaping, cheeks flushed, though you couldn’t tell if it was from the alcoholic something else entirely. The grip he had on his water bottle had tightened substantial, and you couldn’t help the mild smugness that washed over you.

Without breaking to kiss, you kept your gaze on Chanyeol, making sure he was watching as you slid a hand around the front of Sehun’s throat, and captured his tongue between your lips, sucking gently. If possible, his mouth fell open even wider, eyes looking ready to pop out of his damn skull. Smirking to yourself, you cocked a brow at the gaping man. He visibly swallowed, before his eyes suddenly snapped down. You followed his gaze curiously and nearly scoffed in disbelief.

Of course he’d get a hard on from watching something like this. Nasty fucker.

“He still watching?” Sehun mumbled, detaching his mouth from yours only long enough to get the words out. You hummed softly in confirmation, shivering when you felt the slow upward curl of his lips. “Good. Let’s give him a show.”

In an instant, Sehun pulled you over to straddle his lap. Warm hands roamed over your body, though careful to keep a respectful distance from anything he thought you might not want him touching. You appreciated the sentiment, but with Sehun? You didn’t need respectful.

The younger boy faltered beneath you, chest swelling with a deep inhale when you reached around to grab hold of his wrists and slowly lowered them to the swells of your ass. He groaned roughly, fingers digging greedily into the jean clad flesh and pulling you flush against him.

You gasped when you felt him beneath you, hot and hard right between your hips. The rough friction made you clench and shudder, wetness spilling from your core and soaking through your panties. You probably should have been concerned about the heavy arousal seeping through the thick material of your jeans, but your mind was too far gone in the intoxicating warmth of his kiss that you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Fuck, Sehun.” You hissed, hips rolling hungrily over his.

“Baby.” He purred in response, and you swear you nearly had a fucking aneurism on the spot. Baby. Baby. Oh Sehun just called you baby. How long had you waited to hear him call you that? Too fucking long.

A desperate whimper pulsed from your throat, so entirely unlike you that it took even you by surprise. He didn’t seem to mind, pulling you so tightly against him that your ribs ached. But the pain was welcome, melting into a delicious cocktail with the fierce pleasure pulsing through your every cell.

“I don’t think he’s watching anymore.” Sehun breathed, glancing over your shoulder.

“I don’t care.”

You weren’t concerned about Chanyeol any more, far more focused on how Sehun’s lips tasted like mint and honey, and not like alcohol. The fact that he hadn’t drank made you feel even better, if that were possible.

Honest to god you probably would have fucked him right then and there on that couch in front of everyone (and felt damn good about it too) if not for the gentle pressure of Sehun’s fingers digging into your rolling hips, forcing their slow grinding to come to an abrupt halt. You pulled away from him then, completely out of breath and more turned on than you’d been in your entire life. Sehun was in a similar state, panting and flushed, damn near throbbing in the tight confines of his sexy ripped jeans.

“What is it?” You asked, still panting.

He shot you a lopsided grin. “As much as I would love to fuck your brains out in front of all these self centered assholes...” a hand drifted up the line of your body, delicate fingers following the cut of your jaw to trace over the seam of your bottom lip. “I think I’d prefer our first time together to be somewhere a bit more… private? Intimate? Somewhere I can treat you how you deserve to be treated.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, warmth spreading through your body in thick, invigorating waves.

“What’d you have in mind?” You asked softly, feathering your lips over his. He smiled.

“I know this great pancake place that’s open 24/7, best milkshakes you’ve ever had. Then maybe afterward we could... chill at my place. What do you say?” Laughter bubbled at your lips as he mimicked the same line Chanyeol had used on you earlier with a cheesy grin.

And yet, the feeling was entirely different.

Sucking your lips into your mouth, you nodded shyly, arms going slack over his broad shoulders.

“Only if you’re paying.” You hummed playfully.

“Fine,” he sighed dramatically, “I’ll make an exception to my ‘seniors always pay rule’ just this once. Only for you.”

Only for you.

You could definitely get used to that.

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yandere-daydreams · 5 years ago

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A Yandere!Shoto/Yandere!Izuku/Reader piece for a very lovely, very trusting anonymous commissioner, featuring your daily dose of Dicku, for the soul. I haven’t been very kind to the Reader-Inserts, lately, but I feel like it’s fitting. Especially when they’re caught in the middle of a relationship so... *layered*.

Word Count: 2.9k

TW: Non-Con, Male!Reader, Semi-Public Sex, Groping, and Anal Sex.

Izuku didn’t want to hate Shoto.

He didn’t, he really, really didn’t. Izuku wasn’t the kind of person who could hate anyone without a good reason, and certainly not someone he’d put on such a high pedestal. He was nice, like that, a little too nice, some would say, but his patience was understandable. Shoto was a friend, after all. They’d gone through the hero-course together, graduated hand-in-hand, and spent too many nights to count training ‘till the sun rose and fighting together and being close, regardless of whatever feelings they harbored below the surface.

They’d been friends for close to ten years, now, and Izuku had known about Shoto’s crush for nine.

He’d only avoided having to acknowledge it for eight, though.

And now, as he sat on the other side of Shoto’s desk, overlooking the city through seamless, crystal-clear windows, he wasn’t able to shake the feeling of those heterochromatic eyes boring into him, unwavering and unyielding, regardless of how many nervous smiles Izuku put on during their ‘meeting’. Shoto was always cold, the quieter of the pair, and Izuku really didn’t mind. He liked being the one to fill the silence, he enjoyed it, but this was too tense, too rigid for him to fill. Luckily, Shoto seemed to sense his discomfort, taking up the mantle of conversation. Even if Izuku wasn’t exactly grateful for his choice in subject matter. “I’m not an idiot, Midoriya,” He started, bluntly. “Neither are you. We should both know why we’re here.”

Izuku forced a friendly grin, leaning back in his stiff, industrial chair. Maybe his next contract with the Todoroki Agency would include a clause that called for more comfortable furniture. “Because there’s a new group of villains planning an uprising, and we’ve got to use the power of our friendship to bring them down?”

“This is serious,” Shoto countered, but a flush was still spreading across his pale skin. As it seemed to more and more, these days. “You know about my feelings. I know you don’t feel the same way-” Lies, lies, lies. Shoto knew, but like hell he accepted it. Izuku couldn’t count on both hands how many times he’d caught Shoto gritting his teeth when he brought up a mutual friend, or how Shoto always seemed to find himself in the possession of one too many seats at a gala. Still, he let Shoto continue unimpeded. “-but you can’t do what you’re planning to with (Y/n).”

Oh, that got Izuku’s attention.

You

You’d just been one of Shoto’s sidekicks, at first, a young Support Hero just out of Shiketsu Academy. Useless in any meaningful fight, but you were good with damage control, something Shoto was desperately in need of. And yet, you were more than that, so much more. You were adorable, and caring, and so helpless, just thinking about how vulnerable you’d be in a serious fight made Izuku’s heart skip a beat. The two of you weren’t close yet, sure, but that could change, it would change as soon as Izuku got a minute alone with you. He’d tried before, catching you during your patrols and offering to walk you home (he already had your address, but it’d be nice of you to offer it willingly), but your employer always got in the way, so protective, so jealous. The latter more than the former.

Izuku huffed, slouching back. “And why is that, Todoroki?”

He averted his eyes as Shoto glared, wondering if you’d be in the office, today. “You… you can’t, what else do you need to know? He’s been working with me for less than a year, you barely know him. It’s one thing to reject me, but you can’t reject me, then turn around and go after a…” Shoto trailed off, fingertips starting to drum against the wooden surface. “It’s wrong. More established Heroes have been taken down for smaller crimes. If you cared about the Number One Hero’s reputation, you’d stop.”

Izuku didn’t want to stop. Why couldn’t anyone see that? Izuku was in love, and he found his soulmate and why couldn’t anyone be happy for him? Shoto was just being unfair, everyone was being unfair. Maybe when he got you away for all of this, from the city and the agencies and smothering office politics, things would be different. He was sure it’d be easier, after he could work past the obstacles blocking your happy ending.

But, hopeful thinking alone wouldn’t get rid of those obstacles. They were still standing tall and glaring at Izuku over a small stack of paperwork.

Luckily, Izuku was always talented when it came to overcoming adversity.

“Don’t be so negative.” His smile was renewed, the slightest hints of something genuine pulling at the corners of his lips. “It’d be a real shame if we couldn’t come to a compromise, wouldn’t it?”

You weren’t afraid to say you didn’t like being alone with Izuku.

Not to say anything against him - you had the utmost admiration for Deku. He’d been your motivation while you were going through the Hero Course, and you still couldn’t bring yourself to pass by his frequent merch releases without a lengthy consideration of the merits of a few more figurines. Sure, you worked under Shoto, and you were much closer to him than you’d ever care to be to Izuku, but you didn’t look up to him in the same way you did with Deku. You were Deku’s biggest fan, you admired Deku, you respected Deku.

But, you weren’t so fond of the man behind the mask.

He stood too close. It wasn’t the biggest problem, but it unnerved you, making you flinch as he stepped into the elevator you’d caught less than a minute ago, too busy smiling and staring to notice the metallic doors that nearly closed around his ankle. You did your best to return the gesture, stepping to the side and giving him space as you reached for the panel of buttons. He reached too, resting a hand on his shoulder, laughing as he pretended not to have noticed you were doing the same. “Todoroki’s office, right, (Y/n)?”

He used your name, too. Never your alias or your title, only the given name you never told him. You still haven’t figured out how he’d learned it. “Right,” You confirmed, politely. “I just want to make sure he doesn’t need any help before I leave for the day.”

You’d just gotten off patrol, and judging by his minimized get-up, he had too. His familiar green and black body-suit was still in-tact, but his face-guard and gloves had been left behind, his utility belt also noticeably absent. You didn’t bother asking why he was there, you didn’t want to know.

“Todoroki works his sidekicks hard, huh?” He asked, unprompted. His hand was still on your shoulder. “Maybe you should come over to my agency. A sweetheart like you would be a lot of help around the office…” He trailed off, but corrected himself quickly. “For morale, of course.”

You wondered how long this ride was going to take. “I like working here, sir.”

He chuckled, at that. Ingenuine and over-enthusiastic, the kind of laugh you wouldn’t be able to stand if it was coming from anyone else. That was another thing, everything you said was hilarious, to Izuku. “You’ve only worked here,” He whined. He was rubbing circles just above your collarbone, now, and you wished you chose a thicker uniform. Spandex worked best with your quirk, but it did little to separate the heat of Izuku’s fingers from your skin. “If you were with me, I’d make sure you know you’re appreciated.”

You took half a step back, trying to make your discomfort clear. Izuku took forward, closing the small distance you’d created easily. “I don’t want credit,” You assured him. “Todoroki’s success is enough.”

Izuku didn’t seem to like that. One moment, you were glaring at the tile, and the next you were being shoved against the mirrored wall, your back colliding harshly with the reflective surface and Izuku appearing in front of you, an arm coming up to stabilize him and its twin dropping to your waist, effectively trapping you between the elevator wall and his chest. His smile was still in place, but it was stretched, forced, his expression only growing more disturbing as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck, that same fucking grin pushing against your jugular. You shifted uncomfortably, shoving at his chest, but if Izuku noticed, he didn’t seem deterred, only moving to wedge his knee between yours, keeping your feet apart. You couldn’t be sure why, but you had a feeling you wouldn’t like the explanation.

“You’re such a good boy,” Izuku said, voice steady and patronizing. He squeezed at your hip playfully, but his attention drifted quickly, fingertips brushing over your thigh before moving inward, in no particular rush to claim territory. You shuddered as he kissed your neck, sucking and biting at whatever he could get to, but your discomfort was swiftly eclipsed by the complete, all-consuming dread that flowed into your veins as Izuku’s palm ground into your crotch, pressing down for a moment before he took to tracing the outline of your cock. The sensation was stifled by layers of fabric, but unignorable, Izuku’s determination making up for any limitations he might’ve faced. “Todoroki doesn’t appreciate you, not in the way you should be appreciated. I’m gonna fix that, alright? And you’ll forget all about that creepy, sociopathic pervert by the time I’m done.”

You opened your mouth to contest, but Izuku didn’t give you the chance, forcing his lips sloppily against yours in the bastardization of a kiss. It was too forceful to be one, too rough, too insistent without any of the cautious, hesitant care a real lover would have. Meanwhile, the hand on your cock groped and squeezed carelessly, as if he was more focused on the actions themselves than the effect they had. The resulting pleasure was brutal, apathetic, frigid as it entered your system, never wavering despite your attempts to stave it off. You were hard by the time Izuku got bored, his lips moving to your shoulder and his nails digging into the fabric over your hip, latching onto your uniform and tearing, forming a jagged, uneven rip, only lengthened as he wrenched his side upward.

That was what got to you, really, the sound, the feeling of his skin on yours as he worked at shredding your clothes beyond recognition. You crumpled, slightly, letting out a small whimper as the utter misery of your reality set in, but Izuku only cooed, pecking at your jaw in a fruitless attempt to comfort you. “It’ll be alright, angel. I’ll make this good for you.”

As if on cue, the elevator doors slid open, and Izuku glanced over his shoulder absentmindedly. Shoto stepped into the small space immediately, his eyes narrowed and a grimace tugging at the corners of his mouth, but hope flooded into your chest regardless, unwilling to yield to your common sense. You shoved at Izuku, moving to call out to him, but you didn’t need to. He was already walking towards you, his hands balling into fists and latching onto Izuku’s collar as soon as he was close enough, jerking him back and…

And kissing him.

You could’ve ran. You could’ve made a break for the fire escape or thrown yourself through the nearest window, but you didn’t. Your knees buckled under your weight, your body slumping forward as you took in Shoto’s brutal form of affection. It was more shocking than anything. Confusion, about their relationship and your own, hysteria around the thought of what was going to happen next, but you were beyond the point of trying to guess. All you could do was watch as Izuku pushed at Shoto’s shoulders, separating him from his counterpart begrudgingly. “Later,” He promised, Shoto’s glare sharpening. “You already got your turn. You promised I could have (Y/n), first.”

You clenched your eyes shut, pulling your knees to your chest, but it didn’t make a difference. You were nothing compared to Izuku, compared to Deku, and your form was hauled off the floor easily, thrown over his shoulder and left to writhe and struggle as he dragged you into Shoto’s office. It was just as neat as it always was, professional and sterile, but you couldn’t find security in the suspended modern art and coffee mugs Shoto always forgot to take home. You tried to, momentarily, to lock onto something and let it absorb you, but your attempts were made futile by the clatter of pens and folders hitting the floor as Izuku cleared off Shoto’s desk with one arm, using the other to all-but throw you down, your chest hitting the tabletop with a muffled thud. Your wrists were caught behind your back in a matter of seconds, leaving you pinned and helpless under Izuku’s weight.

The tears only started as Izuku stripped you of what was left of your uniform, hooking a finger under the waistband of your compression shorts and dragging them downward, letting the fabric pool around your ankles. You heard something unzip, and Izuku’s own costume fell away, too. You might’ve been curious, a few days ago, spared a glance or two, but he wasn’t pawing at your ass a few days ago. “Lube?” He asked, talking to no one in particular. Shoto just nodded to one of the drawers under his desk, and Izuku opened it, evaluating the contents with a long, low whistle. “You’ve been stocking up for this, haven’t you?”

Shoto didn’t respond, but his eyes never left Izuku. You had a feeling they wouldn’t, anytime soon.

Izuku took his time coating two fingers with oily fluid, as if he didn’t have anything better to do. He was just as lethargic as he probed at your entrance, his movements measured, planned, Izuku drinking in your reactions as he scissored you open, pulling a ragged moan from your lips. He wasn’t aiming for your pleasure, that much was obvious, but the thought of being opened up for one of your idols, stretched apart for someone you’d admired for so long… The idea sent a sickening, begrudging stroke of electricity to your cock, and Izuku seemed to feel it too, his hips bucked impatiently against your ass.

There were so many sensations, you almost couldn’t tell when his patience gave out, his fingers pulling away and something bigger, something hotter replacing them. If he planned on acknowledging his minimal preparation, he didn’t make a show of it, thrusting into you harshly and refusing to stop until he was completely hilted. The intrusion tore a wordless, pitiful whimper from your throat, the sound short-lived but painfully audible. You tried to bite your lip, to silence yourself as Izuku started moving, but it was too late. His chest pressed against your back as he ground into you, pelvis snapping against yours in tiny, feverish ruts, as if he’d been waiting for this too long to go about it thoughtfully. He didn’t try to be delicate, he couldn’t be delicate, letting your wrist go in favor of taking your hips, his fingers burrowing into your skin in a bruising hold. The small freedom didn’t make a difference, not when the only thing you could think to do with your hands was brace them on the desk, keeping yourself stabilized despite Izuku’s attempts to topple your control. It hurt, the way he pounded into you, your occasional tear becoming an unrelenting, unfaltering onslaught of cries and sobs as he abused your hole, your prostate, everything he could get his hands on - all of it hurt. “Please… please stop,” You gasped, more out of instinct than anything. “Stop, you have to stop-”

He silenced you with a wet kiss to the nape of your neck, a hum soon strangled by a grunt. “Poor baby,” He whispered, the words stifled by your skin. “Bear with me, alright? You’ll feel good, too. My angel just has to bear with me.”

You hadn’t noticed Shoto moving, not until he was standing in front of you, less than an arm’s length away and supporting himself on the edge of the desk. There was a low whine as he entangled his unoccupied fingers in Izuku’s hair, dragging the man forward and catching him in a kiss, demanding and fervid but soft, barely there, pecks and nips that barely fazed Izuku’s pursuit to slam into you. Shoto’s goal was an affectionate one, driven by the want for attention and little else. It was innocent, in its simplicity, Something you could’ve seen yourself doing, with Shoto.

Something you used to want to see yourself doing, with Shoto.

You clenched around Izuku without thinking, your end approaching like the sudden drop of a cliffside. His cock twitched, his pace stuttering and losing rhythm, and Shoto gave him the space needed to lean against you, to keen and mummer nonsensical praises into your back. A fist closed around your cock, pumping in time with his uneven thrusts. How generous.

Your climax was a sobering one. You seized up, your body going stiff as you jolted against Izuku’s hand, hot jets of cum soon staining your stomach and Shoto’s carpet. Izuku barely lasted a second longer, filling you to the brim and refusing to pull out, letting the excess drip around his cock and onto your thighs, the sensation making you choke on whatever air was left in your lungs.

Izuku only panted, taking a deep breath before kissing your cheek. The gesture was almost loving.

Almost.

“We’re going to be so happy together.” His voice was heavy, but contented. For the moment, at least. “Me and you, just me and you. Everything’ll be perfect, once I get rid of everything trying to keep us apart.”

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winterisakillerwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Enough

Title: Enough

One Shot: 1/1

Character: Tom Hiddleston/Sadie Collins (OFC)

Genre: romance/slight angst/realistic fluff

Rating: T

Summary: Sadie was everything Tom had always wanted; she was brilliant, funny, well read and, in his opinion, one of the most beautiful people he’d ever known. She held his attention like no one else in recent memory had. The only problem? She already belonged to someone else…

Authors Notes/Warnings: This is for @just-the-hiddles 1k writing challenge, my dialogue prompt was “All I wanted was a happy ending”. This story took several twists and turns before ending up here. I hope you enjoy this @just-the-hiddles. A huge, huge, HUGE shout out to my writing partner in crime @redfoxwritesstuff, you have been an absolute godsend with this. I am eternally grateful for all your support and encouragement.

“All I wanted was a happy ending. Was that too much to ask for?”

The words fell softly from her trembling lips. She kept herself apart from him, hands wrapped protectively over her chest. Tom could see the shine of unshed tears in her eyes and felt his gut clench. Pain radiated off of her in waves and in that moment there was nothing Tom wanted more than to take away her pain. To fix everything. To see her smile again. Just once more.

Tom had always loved her smile; the way it lit her face and warmed any and everything around her. It had been one of the first things that had captured his attention nearly a year and a half before. He’d been dragged to yet another party (a way for him to meet people his manager assured him would benefit his career) and had found himself caught in another boring conversation when he’d allowed his gaze to wander around the room. She’d been standing near a bookcase, talking with a woman he’d recognized but couldn’t place. She’d been smiling and laughing at whatever her companion had said and Tom found himself unable to look away.

It had taken nearly fifteen minutes to work his way through to the room to reach her. He’d been stopped several times both by various actors he’d worked with in the past and by industry people who were interested in picking his brain regarding upcoming projects (had he ever considered this or that idea or was he looking forward to working with this actor/actress or this director). Tom has done his best to talk with them all (wouldn’t Luke and Michael be proud to see their continuing lectures on marketing oneself paying off), keeping a weathered eye on where she’d stood. The last thing he wanted was to risk losing sight of her and have her disappear right under his nose. Not when was so close.

Tom smiled as he finally extracted himself from conversation with a fellow RADA graduate he’d not seen in years but had gotten on with fairly well, wishing the man luck in his next endeavor; a period piece set to air on the BBC the following spring. Tom stole a quick glance toward the bookcase and was grateful to find her still there. Though her conversational partner had changed.

She was quite short, he’d noted. Shorter than he’d first thought. Her light brown hair was pulled back into a bun at the base of her skull, leaving the smooth skin of her neck and shoulders bare to his gaze. She’d dressed simply in a tea length dark blue dress. Nothing quite as flashy as he’d found to be common place at such gatherings but something that seemed to suit her perfectly.

“Excuse me,” he started, moving the last few feet towards her. Tom was exceedingly grateful to find her on her own; the companion he’d seen her with a few moments earlier had disappeared. “I don’t mean to be forward but I realize we’ve not been introduced and I wanted to remedy that. I’m Tom Hiddleston.”

He extended his hand toward her and felt a jolt of something when she took it gently in her own. Her hand was soft and warm. So small compared to his own.

“Sadie Collins. Very nice to meet you, Tom.”

And just as easily as that, Tom found himself completely lost.

They spent the rest of the evening simply talking. He’d learned she was a script editor for the BBC (she’d studied literature and film at Uni and had been lucky enough to catch the right person’s eye shortly after graduating) and had grown up not too far, incidentally, from where he himself had lived as a young boy. She was an only child and found his stories about his trials and tribulations as the middle child between two very different sisters hysterical. Sadie loved dogs (and cats and most mammals if she was being completely honest) and they talked at length about their mutual desire to own a dog of some sort once their lives were more settled. He talked about his recent experiences filming in the states and his upcoming projects. She talked about the latest show she’d been working on. Tom couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so utterly at ease around another person.

It wasn’t until Sadie mentioned the trip she’d taken a few months prior (a surprise anniversary gift from her boyfriend of two and a half years) that Tom felt the cloud he’d been standing on disappear. Of course she wasn’t single. Why would she be? She was a fascinating, brilliant, and charming woman. Any man would be out of their mind to let her get away. He silenced that small voice in his head roaring its displeasure. You can’t win them all, Hiddleston.

“Greece is absolutely lovely.” He’d found himself answering, hoping his smile hadn’t faltered. “Where exactly did you end up staying?”

She gushed about the tiny villa they’d stayed in and the days they’d spent exploring. Her boyfriend worked as a researcher for one of the university’s she’d liaised with through the BBC. They shared a love of exploring and history and it was abundantly clear to Tom she adored him. The way her face lit up as she talked about the history and the culture she’d immersed herself in during her trip was absolutely breathtaking.

He’d thrown out his own opinions and experiences and soon felt the disappointment in him tamper down. She might be taken but that didn’t mean the end of the world. Besides, with the way his career was shaping up, any sort of romantic relationship would unfortunately be forced onto the back burner. He simply wouldn’t have time to dedicate to building a meaningful something with another person.

That, in part, was why his last relationship had fallen apart. He had hardly been home in the last eight months and his ex couldn’t handle that. Especially knowing that it wasn’t (and couldn’t be) a one off thing. If he wanted to actually work in this industry, wanted to truly make a go of it, he had to keep himself out there and take any and every opportunity he could. So she’d handed him back her key to his flat, kissed him on the cheek and left. It had hurt, losing what he’d hoped would be a solid source of love and normalcy in the chaos he knew his life was diving into, but he’d understood. So he’d let her go.

“My god, it’s nearly midnight.” Sadie exclaimed, glancing at the watch on her wrist in disbelief. “I can’t believe it. I hadn’t planned on staying so late.”

Tom blinked in surprise. “Is it really?” He could have sworn it was much, much earlier. Surely they couldn’t have talked for hours. He let out a soft chuckle. “I guess it’s like they say, time flies when you’re having fun.” The words were lame and he’d known it but they’d left his mouth before he’d really processed them and there wasn’t anything he could do about it now.

Sadie laughed softly and shrugged. “I guess so. But that being said, I best be off. It was wonderful meeting you, Tom. I hope to do so again in future.”

He offered a small smile, ignoring the small jolt in his gut at the thought of her leaving. “I hope so as well.”

With a wave and a smile she was gone.

—

Tom had done his utmost to put that night behind him (and any lingering hope of what could have been had so many things been different), throwing himself in the maelstrom that his life was becoming. It was more difficult than he’d bargained for though. Sadie would creep into his thoughts seemingly at random throughout the day; he’d find himself studying lines and wondering what she was doing, sitting in a make-up chair and remembering the way her hazel eyes sparkled when she laughed, trying to squeeze in his daily run and replaying the stories she told him. It was utterly ridiculous. And there was little he could do to stop it.

If any noticed his distracted behavior, they had the good grace to never mention it. And that, Tom felt, was both a blessing and a curse. It meant maybe this…whatever it was…hadn’t been affecting his working life nearly as badly as he feared. It also meant that no one was there to really snap him out of it, save himself. And he managed, well enough. Jumping from project to project to promotion helped. Half the time he was too exhausted to do more than fall into whatever hotel bed he’d been assigned for the night, sleeping like the dead until he was roused by Luke or whatever poor sod was sent in his place. It wasn’t a maintainable pace by any stretch of the imagination, but he was young enough still and didn’t want to risk missing a single opportunity while he had the chance.

He spoke as often as he could with his mum and sisters, clinging to that small piece of normalcy and comfort they provided. He endured his mother’s quite vocal concern that he was burning the candle at both ends and could easily burn himself out in the process with as much grace as he was able. She’d had a point, of that he was most certainly aware. But, he’d assured her, this was only temporary. He would slow down as soon as he could. He told her that he knew his limits and he respected them. It was clear she didn’t quite believe him but she didn’t fight him on the matter. Not too much, anyway.

When he’d finally made it back home (he’d scored a brief two weeks completely free between projects and dear god it was desperately needed), Tom had all but cried in relief. It was wonderful being in his own space, to be able to see his friends and family. He’d filled a great deal of his time trying to squeeze in seeing everyone he could, something his mother chastised him for during the afternoon he’d taken to drive up to Suffolk to see her. “Not that I am not grateful to see you, darling. I just worry you’re doing too much. This is your rest time. You should actually try to spend it doing just that.” The time he didn’t spend sleeping or with friends and family was spent trying to finish all those little tasks that seemed to slip to the wayside.

He’d been out, finishing a quick round of shopping (yes, he could have people do it for him, and yes, it would make his life infinitely easier, but he’d needed the chance to feel as normal and grounded as possible) when he found himself staring at a very familiar face. He’d all but collided with her in his hurry to get out of the shop and on his way back home.

She stared up at him in bewildered annoyance before a spark of recognition flashed in her hazel eyes. The same eyes he’d seen all too often when he’d closed his eyes at night. Not that he would ever tell her so.

“Tom!” Sadie exclaimed, happily; her smile wide and bright. She moved, resettling the reusable shopping bag farther back on her shoulder. “How have you been?”

He returned her smile with a genuine one of his own. “Sadie, it’s wonderful to see you. I’ve been well. Busy but well. How are you?”

“Busy as well,” she answered with a laugh. “Though granted not quite as busy as you’ve seemed to be.”

Tom rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “Yeah. It’s been a bit…”

“Insane?” She offered.

He laughed and nodded. “That would certainly be one way of putting it.” He adjusted the bag in his hand, consciously aware of the fact that he needed to get his perishable items home relatively soon. But doing so would mean leaving Sadie and leaving now was something he knew he absolutely did not want to do. “Things still going well at the Beeb?”

Sadie laughed and nodded, “Very well. I’ve got two series getting ready for production in the next few months which is exciting and terrifying all at once.”

“I can imagine.”

The glint of light off her hand as she brushed a stray lock of hair from her face caught his eye.

Her left hand.

Tom felt his gut clench as his eyes focused on her hand and the ring that rested on her finger. It was a lovely piece of jewelry, he had to admit. A thing gold band with a rather large diamond (he didn’t know enough about diamonds to guess its value other than it must have been worth quite a fair amount of money).

She was engaged. When had that happened? He’d known she was seeing someone (and had been for a while) but an engagement meant the relationship was serious. The small bit of hope he’d stubbornly clung to crumbled in that moment and he cursed himself for ever even entertaining the idea of having any sort of chance with her in the first place. She wasn’t his to claim. In reality he’d only known her a few handful of hours. How that could ever translate into anything more…Especially not with regards to the madness that was his life at the moment.

He cleared his throat and nodded softly towards her hand. “I see congratulations are in order.”

She looked at him in confusion for a few moments before her face cleared and she smiled brightly. “Thank you. It’s been about a month now and I’m still trying to wrap my head round it.” He watched as she unconsciously looked down at the ring on her hand before raising her eyes back to his.

Tom returned her smile (though the action felt strained). She seemed so happy though, and he couldn’t let himself do anything to jeopardize that. “Understandable. Have you set a date yet?”

Sadie shook her head. “Not formally, no. But we’ve been thinking sometime late next year or early the year after at the latest. Nothing over the top, though. Something small, intimate. Just us and family.”

He nodded, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Sounds wonderful.” And he’d meant it. Silence fell between them and they stood, watching one another for several minutes before Tom cleared his throat. “I…I need to get this shopping home. It’s been wonderful seeing you again, Sadie. I hope I will get to do so again in future.”

“Well if you ever find yourself on a BBC production…” Sadie let the words hang between them, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

Tom smiled warmly at her. “If I do, I will certainly look you up.”

She stepped to the side to let him pass, raising her hand and offering a quick wave. He nodded his head towards her, taking her in one last time before hurrying off down the busy pavements towards home.

—

Two days later found Tom sitting across from his agent, script in hand. It was still technically his holiday (he had two more days of freedom before delving back into the chaos of another long shoot) and when Michael called that morning his first instinct had been to switch the bloody device off and to let the man hang. But his damned curiosity had gotten the better of him.

He’d been sitting, nursing his coffee and reading through the newspaper before him when his mobile rang; Michael’s number scrolling across the screen. Tom groaned aloud, disgruntled at his peace being disrupted and curious as to what was so urgent that his agent couldn’t wait another few days. A part, it seemed. And one he’d fully believed Tom would jump at.

So far Michael had been correct. He’d only gotten through the first few pages but he was already hooked. He also didn’t miss that it was a modern take on a very familiar Shakespearian play. Tom sighed, knowing full well he had a type and just how well those around him seemed to know it. Still, judging by the length of the script and the bare details Michael had given him, the project appeared to be a lengthy one and Tom wasn’t sure how his schedule, as packed as it was rapidly becoming, was going to be able to fit this in. He was getting up there in recognition (something he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around) but he didn’t quite think he had the clout to entertain the idea of getting this project to work around his schedule and not that of its producers.

“Well?” Michael sat across from him, hands folded on the desk top, eyes intent.

“It’s quite good…Very good, if I’m being honest…”

“Then why am I sensing a bit of hesitation?”

Tom scrubbed a hand over his face. He’d forgone shaving during his break and therefore had the makings of a fairly decent beard. It had itched something fierce coming in but he’d found it rather comforting now, mainly for the bit of anonymity it brought him. People who spotted him on the street still stared but now couldn’t quite seem to place him. It was wonderfully freeing to wander down the streets of central London left more or less to his own devices.

“I just…You know how packed my schedule is.” He paused, picking up the script and held it up towards Michael. “I love this, and you knew that I would, but how can I possibly fit this in…I’m booked very nearly solid for the next several months.”

Michael nodded. “Fair point, Tom. But they want you and they are willing to work with your schedule if that means getting you.”

“Seriously?” It didn’t make any sort of sense. Yes, he was doing rather well for himself, but there was a staggering difference between that and having a production company point blank that they were willing to work around your availability.

“Seriously.” Michael leant over the desk, smiling at his client. “So shall I ring them and say you’re in?”

Tom blinked, letting the idea slowly sink in. It was a fantastic part and he very much wanted the ability to work with it. After several moments he nodded. “Yes, please.”

—

Tom settled himself at the table set up for the day’s read-through. He’d made small talk with a few of the actors and the show’s director as they waited for everyone to trickle in. Catching up with familiar faces and introducing himself to those he’d not had the pleasure of knowing. For the last several months he (and Michael and Luke) had been in constant contact with the show’s producers, trying to nail time availability and start planning concrete rehearsal and filming schedules. It was grueling and the stress might certainly have done him in had he not been so excited to start.

Murmured conversations echoed all around him as he grabbed a water bottle that had been left at his place and twisted its cap off. A quick glance at his watch told him they had maybe five minutes before things were set to start. He glanced around the room, taking in a few familiar faces as the writing team settled into their respective places. At two minutes to the hour the door opened once more. Out of habit more than anything, Tom glanced up and felt everything around him freeze.

With her hair piled high on her head and a warm, royal blue cardigan wrapped around her shoulders, Sadie slipped into the room smiling warmly at various faces she recognized. He hadn’t he faintest idea she was at all involved in the project and felt idiotic for not realizing it sooner. She was a script editor for the BBC and had worked on similar projects (he was willing to admit, if only to himself, that he had looked up her work history online after their initial meeting; his innate curiosity winning out over his sense of propriety). It would make complete and total sense that she’d be involved in this.

It wasn’t until she’d settled between the director and the head writer that Sadie seemed to take note of him. The smile that had spread across her face was bright and Tom swore he could feel the warmth radiating from it. She mouthed a quick ‘hello’ which he returned in kind with a wide smile of his own. There was a brief flurry of introduction before they set to work on the first proper table read. They flew through the first few pages with ease, pausing occasionally to play with wording or with the timing of a pause or start of a line.

Tom had always enjoyed this process of a new production; getting to build off of his fellow actors and see the raw form of the story they were telling start to take shape. There were several kinks still to work out, as there tended to be this early in the game. Odd phrasings or scene placements that didn’t quite fit. Nothing they wouldn’t eventually sort out one way or another.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tom could see Sadie scribbling furiously away on her copy of the script, occasionally breaking to share an aside with the writer. He smiled at the obvious dedication she had for her work. It was yet another piece of the puzzle that was her and he was eager to learn all that he could. He did his utmost best to focus on the pages before him. The last thing he wanted was to be the one holding up their progress through the script. They made it through the next several pages before breaking for lunch.

Several people attempted to engage him in conversation and he’d done his best to remain polite while trying to slip through the throng and catch Sadie before she had a chance to disappear. True, she would most likely be back after lunch, he’d known that, but it hadn’t stopped the need to talk with her. By the time he’d extricated himself from the rehearsal room, Sadie was nowhere to be found. He cursed his own innate sense of politeness and headed through the hallway, hoping she’d not gone too far.

He caught up with her at the coffee cart in the lobby of the building. She was in the middle of her order, absently reaching into her purse for her wallet. Without thinking, he pulled his from his back pocket and took out a crumpled twenty pound note, handing it over to the woman running the cart. “A pour over as well, love,” he added. The fleeting worry that perhaps he’d overstepped his bounds hit him as soon as the words left his lips. Gods above, I sound like a complete arse.

Bewildered, Sadie turned around. Her confusion quickly melted into surprised amusement. “Tom?”

“Sadie.” He took the change handed back to him, dropping a few of the pound coins into the tip jar. “Sorry, I know I am intruding, I just…It’s wonderful to see you.”

“It’s nice to see you as well Tom.” She took the coffees, handing Tom his steaming mug, before turning back and grabbing the sandwich she’d ordered. “You didn’t have to buy my lunch though. I may not be rolling in coin like someone I know,” she shot him a knowing look, “but I can afford a coffee and a sandwich.”

Tom winced. God, he had overstepped.

Sadie tossed back her head and laughed. “Jesus, Tom, I was just messing with you. I’m not at all upset that a rather well off film star felt the need to buy me lunch.” She reached up and patted him lightly on the arm. Tom felt the familiar surge of electricity in her touch. “…Honestly, though, thank you. You really didn’t have to.”

A wave of relief flooded through him (the absolute last thing he’d wanted was to turn her off by acting like a prat) and he offered a small, but cheeky smile. “You can spot me next time then.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “You seem so certain there’ll be a next time.”

“Hopeful is more accurate,” he answered with a small shrug. “I figure I will be seeing a lot of you on this project, with your job and mine being what they are, and a friendly face is always a welcome sight on shoots.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, knowing he was letting his mouth run away with him once again. He was forever being lectured about it from both Michael and Luke (“My God, Tom, for once can you think before you open your mouth?”); what could be endearing also tended to be a logistical and PR nightmare in certain situations.

“Fair point,” she conceded, smiling as she shook her head. “But keep in mind, next time I am paying, Hiddleston.”

“Dully noted.”

—

As table reads turned into rehearsals and then into actual filming, Tom found himself lost once more in the insanity that was his chosen career. He was grateful for the lack of heavy, often stifling period costume. As fun as it could be to play dress up (his inner four year-old still giggled in delight that he was actually paid to do this), running around in several layers of leather and the like was not something he particularly enjoyed.

The modern setting of this particular story meant a much shorter jaunt in make-up and wardrobe and in a much freer feeling of movement. Alice, his costar, had been in full agreement. “Corsets are bloody murder,” she’d told him as they waited for the scene to be set on the first few days of filming. “They may look pretty but fuck if you have any real ability to move.”

Sadie had been on set most days over the last several months, running back and forth with updated copies of scripts and talking with the director and cast as needed. And Tom had done his best to try to pick her brain whenever she saw her on set. They’d taken to making coffee runs and, when they could, quick lunches (mostly whatever they could nick from the catering tents) and endless, endless talking. Sadie, he quickly found, was one of the easiest people to talk to. She was brilliant and quick on her feet and willing to match him word for word in whatever debate they ended up in. It was easy for Tom to forget he hadn’t known her forever, that they hadn’t been friends for ages.

In a way her engagement (it still tugged at his heart to think the word and of just what it meant) had been a blessing in disguise. Tom had wanted her from the moment they’d met (there was no point in denying it to himself anymore) and had she been free and he’d made a move….would he be sitting here now, across from her talking about the latest books they’d read (she tended to lead him in that category as his life had been far too chaotic to allow him time to truly lose himself in a book that wasn’t work related). Or would it have burnt out just as quickly as it started and have left him never knowing just how amazing a person she truly was. It didn’t bear thinking. And honestly what good would thinking about all the ‘what ifs’ and ‘what fors’ do him? Things were as they were and he couldn’t change them even had he wanted to. He accepted it, was grateful for the small pieces he was able to have. The warmth of her friendship was worth any lingering want.

—

“What are you doing for the holidays?” Sadie asked, bringing her takeaway coffee cup to her lips and blowing softly before taking a cautious sip. It was a week before filming was set to break for the winter holidays. She and Tom taken to hiding in his makeshift trailer between takes most days that week as they’d been finishing most of the exterior scenes.

It had been an absolutely blustery day and despite the fact they’d broken for lunch nearly twenty minutes before, Tom still felt half frozen. He’d kept the parka he’d been given by the wardrobe department on and cranked the tiny space heater he’d found in his trailer as high as he’d dared, and still he was shivering intermittently. His only saving grace was the idea that after today the majority of the exterior shots would be complete. And thank god for that.

Tom chuckled and rubbed his hands up and down the insides of crossed arms, hoping a bit of friction would stop the shivering. “My eldest sister and her husband are flying in from India. We’re all heading up to my mum’s for Christmas. I haven’t had a Christmas at home in the last few years, with my life being what it’s been, and I am so, so glad I’m able to this year.” He paused and took a sip of his own coffee, wincing as it burned his mouth and throat. “And you?”

She smiled warmly at him. “Andy and I are heading up to Edinburgh to visit his family.”

“Very nice.” Tom paused and took another sip of his coffee. “When are you heading up?”

Sadie placed her cup beside her on the trailer floor. The small table beside her had been taken over by pages of script and other various bits and bobs Tom had collected in the past few weeks of filming and was virtually unusable as a table. “Friday afternoon. He’s got a late class at the university and we’re heading up after.”

Tom nodded in understanding. “I’m heading to mum’s Saturday morning. My scenes should be wrapped up by then and I’m hoping if I leave early enough I can beat a fair bit of the traffic.”

“Good luck with that,” Sadie laughed, shaking her head. “We’re taking the train.” She laughed at the face Tom made. “Yes, I know it’ll be crowded but it’s infinitely easier than driving the whole way. Andy’s brother is set to collect us from the station and take us to his parents.”

A knock sounded on the trailer door followed by the familiar voice of Hanna, one of the PA’s on set. “Five minutes, Tom!”

“Alright!” he called back, glancing instinctively towards the door. He turned his attention back to Sadie and felt the familiar pool of disappointment in his gut as she smiled at him and pushed herself to her feet.

He watched as she gathered her bag and her nearly empty coffee cup and headed towards the trailer door. “I’ll let you get back to work. If I don’t see you before we break, happy Christmas Tom.”

“Happy Christmas.” He took two steps towards her and pulled her into a quick hug. “Take care of yourself alright?”

“Always.” She shrugged into her coat and slipped out into the windy afternoon.

Tom sighed as he heard the door click closed behind her. He settled himself onto the narrow and far too short couch and closed his eyes, wanting to enjoy his last few moments of warmth before having to surrender himself to the mercy of the bitter cold. He had just managed to get warm enough to doze off when another knock sounded on the door. With a groan, Tom flipped off the space heater and headed out of the trailer, following Hanna back towards set.

—

Tom settled himself onto the couch the following Friday evening, a cup of hot chocolate in one hand, and sighed. His bag was packed and waiting by the door in the front hall. Part of him had been tempted to say ‘fuck it’ and drive up that night, but the sudden hit of his own exhaustion steadied his hand. The absolute last thing he’d wanted was to end up wrapping his car around a tree because he’d nodded off at the wheel. Best to try to call it an early night and leave first thing in the morning like he’d originally planned.

He took a small sip of the steaming chocolate and let its warmth flood through him. He bent forward, grabbing the remote for the television he hardly ever used and turned it on. Several journeys through the channels later he settled on a Christmas special for one of the newer BBC dramas. He hadn’t a clue what was happening in the program but the background noise was a lovely distraction to the silence of the house.

Tom had just about dozed off when a buzz sounded from the front hall. He sat up, blinking fuzzily as his brain tried to place the noise and its meaning. The front gate. Right. He pushed himself to his feet, placing the now empty mug on the edge of the table, and stumbled towards the hall and the gate security panel. He pressed the button which cued up the camera and blinked for several seconds as his brain attempted to process just why Sadie was standing at his front gate. Shouldn’t she be on a train to Edinburgh?

Knowing none of his questions could possibly be answered by simply standing there like a dolt, he pressed the intercom button and waved her in. A few moments later her hesitant knock came on his front door. Tom pulled it open quickly and found her shuffling from foot to foot, a lost look in her eyes. “Sadie, darling, are you alright?”

She took a deep breath and shook her head. “Can…Can I come in?”

“Of course,” he assured her. “Of course you can.” He stepped quickly aside and allowed her to slip quietly past him and into the hall. “Would you like a cup of tea? Coffee? I’ve hot chocolate if you’d rather?”

She flashed him a small smile which didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Tea would be lovely.”

He ushered her into the living room before darting into the kitchen and setting the kettle to boil. He pulled a tin of Earl Grey and a mug from the cabinet and placed them both on the counter near the kettle. Once the kettle boiled, he set to brewing the tea. He padded towards the fridge, pulling out a carton of milk and adding a splash to the steaming amber liquid. He carried the mug back into the living room and offered it to her without a word.

Sadie took it with a soft murmur of thanks and held in between her hands. She’d settled on the couch, shoes on the floor and her legs curled beneath her. He settled himself into the arm chair opposite.

After several minutes of silence, Tom leant forward resting his elbows on his knees. “What’s happened?”

Sadie took a deep breath, her fingers curled around the mug. “I’m sorry for just showing up here…I just…I was walking and I looked up and I was here…I know you’ve probably got things you need to be doing. I’m sorry…” She pushed herself to her feet and placed the undrunk tea onto the table. “I should leave you be.”

“Don’t,” Tom started, jumping to his feet. “Please, somethings obviously wrong. Sadie, you are my friend. You came to me. Please let me help if I can.”

She nodded and sat back down on the couch, wrapping her arms around her middle. It was several minutes before she spoke again. “He left.”

Tom blinked in confusion. “Who left? Andy? You mean he left for Edinburgh without you? Why?”

Sadie shook her head. “No…Well yes, he did leave for Edinburgh. But no, he’s left me. He was gone when I got back to the flat this evening. I called, thinking maybe I’d gotten the times wrong. And he…” She paused and took a deep breath before carrying on, her voice cracking slightly as she did so. “He said he can’t do this anymore…That he’s been thinking about it for a while now. Told me he’s not ready for this kind of commitment; that he hadn’t been sure when he proposed but went on with it anyway…He said he was so sorry but he couldn’t keep going on with this, with us. God, Tom, he just…Four fucking years and he just…”

“Oh Sadie.”

She blinked up at him with glassy eyes. “All I wanted was a happy ending. Was that too much to ask for?”

He took Sadie’s cold hands into his own, rubbing them; hoping to infuse some of his warmth into her. She offered him a tremulous smile and he felt his heart break at the sight. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, squeezing her hands gently. It wasn’t all he’d wanted to say. Not even close. But he couldn’t see any way of saying what he wanted desperately to say that wouldn’t frighten or overwhelm her. And scaring her was the absolute last thing he wanted to do.

“I just…Why wasn’t I enough?” The words were whispered, clearly not intended for his ears. But he heard them all the same.

Tom wasn’t a violent person by nature but Christ, he wanted nothing more than to rip the asshole who’d broken her heart to shreds. To tear him limb from limb for the audacity to be so careless with such a wonderful, loving heart. To string Sadie along, make her promises, build a life with her, and then rip all away because he ‘wasn’t ready’.

The rational part of his brain knew it was better that Andy had ended it before he and Sadie actually married. That even though Sadie was hurt (and it was so clear that she was blindsided by this), she would recover from this much easier than if she’d actually tied their lives together in the legally binding sense. But rational was far from Tom’s state of mind at the moment. He fought to keep his hands from shaking as they held onto hers.

“You are enough,” he heard himself growl. He felt Sadie’s hands tense in his and he cursed his emotional response. God, she didn’t need this now. Tom cleared his throat, hoping to calm himself enough to speak rationally. To express himself in a way that wouldn’t scare her. “Sadie,” he started again, his voice even, “you are enough. And if he can’t see that then it’s his loss. If he can’t look at you and know for certain that you are what he wants then it’s no one’s fault but his own.”

She blinked up at him. “Tom, I…”

Tom smiled softly at her as he brought her hands to his lips, kissing them gently before releasing them. He took a deep breath. “You might not feel it right now. But Sadie, to me you are enough. You’ve always been. You are smart and you are capable. You are brilliant and funny and warm. You are so many wonderful, amazing things.” He clasped his hands before him in his lap and smiled warmly at her. “You’ve become such an important part of my life. So much more than I will ever be able to say. And I know this is too soon and probably too much, and I probably shouldn’t be saying this at all but I want you to know…I want you to understand, that you are someone’s first choice. You are my first choice, hands down. Every. Single. Time.” She opened her mouth to speak and he held up a hand to silence her. “Wait, please.”

Confusion shone in her bright eyes as she stared at him in silence. After several moments she nodded silently.

“I want to know that you, just as you are, are enough.” He smiled softly at her before rushing on. “You are more than enough. And I don’t say this to force you into returning my feelings or to pressure you into something I know you are in no way ready for. I say this because I want you to know that no matter what you choose, you have me in your corner. I will love you as a friend or as more. That choice is yours and you have all the time in the world to decide what it is you want. Sadie, you have become one of my dearest friends. I value your opinion and your candor above all others. You are my friend and if that is all you need of me then I will gladly accept it. That would be enough for me.”

Tom watched the emotional swirl across her face. Confusion, uncertainty, disbelief, and just a fraction of hope. He took another slow breath and waited, knowing that whatever happened next, good or ill, he would bear and gladly if it meant she could have a moment’s peace. That would be enough.

#Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston RPF #Tom Hiddleston x oc #Tom Hiddleston x original character #Tom Hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x original female character #justthehiddles1k

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gintamajustaway · 7 years ago

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Hey Aero! Quick ? Has having a tumblr helped you with your writing career? You seem to do well with everything you do and it doesn't seem like you need a tumblr (don't get me wrong plz don't ever leave) I just wonder if having tumblrs has helped you transitin from fanfic writer to orignal writer?

THIS IS SUCH A COOL ASK!! YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT THIS ASK IS RAD AS HELL AND I REALLY LIKE IT!! Because hell yes having these tumblrs before I fully stepped into the world of original works has made an enormous difference. I’ve always been writing original works alongside fanfiction, so my transition wasn’t from fanfiction to original works. Fanfiction has only ever been just a side hobby I do in my spare time and I’ve always wanted to be a writer.

What I have really, really valued from having these tumblrs before excelling in the ~real world~ is the sheer amount of exposure I’ve had. The situations and experiences I’ve had while running this blog and my main one have been completely invaluable. So, I’m going to make a short list of things I’ve learned through this experience. I wish someone had told me these things before I got started with all this because it would have saved a lot of time and probably some turmoil as well.

People will hate you. This sounds to terrible and in theory it definitely is, but everyone should know this or at least be aware that it’s a thing that happens. People you don’t know, people you’ve never spoken to, people you’ve never ever done anything to – they will hate you. The reasons will be entirely shallow like they’ll take a look at your favorite ship and they’ll go, “Well I hate that ship so I hate that person!” This is an actual thing that happens and if that person is within a group of like-minded people, there’s a chance you will be targeted and bullied. For me, I had people hate reading my fanfiction and trashing it on twitter. Those people hated me and I’d never done anything to them. They’d advocate for Kyuubei’s gender identity, but then assign me an identity and trash me for that, too. I learned a hell of a lot from those experiences and it’s a good thing to be able to understand what kinds of people do that and also understand why no one should ever let those kinds of people get to you.

People will hold you accountable for things that are not your responsibility. Some people will expect you to cater to them. They’ll act like what you produce is for them specifically and they will get offended if you don’t give them exactly what they want from you.

People will turn on you the first opportunity they get if it suits them. This is a new one for me, but I’m much better off with the knowledge. You can treat someone with utmost respect, you can love them, you can give them things and always support them, but they can and will turn on you. This applies to everyone, really – friends, family, significant other – but the lesson is really that you should be careful who you put your time and energy into. You obviously won’t know if someone is trustworthy or not, so you take that chance, but learning how to cope and handle it when someone you really liked/trusted turns on you without actual justifiable reason or without even speaking to you first is knowledge I’m glad I have now. It hurt this time, but I think if it ever happens again I have a better feel for the types of people that do that and I’ll have a much more solid way of handling it.

You will not be able to get rid of some people. This is extremely important and I personally need to work really hard on this point. You can be really turned off by someone – as in: really not like them as a person – and you can leave them alone, you can not interact with them, you can ignore them, but sometimes they will continuously appear. I am not good at handling it when people I don’t like won’t go away despite how much I leave them alone. It is so good I’ve learned more about this on here because we all have things, you know? Those things that you just do not handle well and need to put more effort into fixing about yourself. This is one of my things. I have not yet experienced this type of person with original works ((which I am so grateful for)) but just knowing how I react when someone reappears too many times for me to feel safe or comfortable anymore is good knowledge to have because I believe that through what I’ve learned, I’ll be able to protect myself better in the future. This ties into when I was abused and you’d think I’d know by now that I don’t handle feeling trapped very well, but ahaa //flops

Time management. Not going to lie, my time management was pretty impressive before I became an online presence and now with running these blogs, going to school, being a writer, having a social life, working out, and traveling – my time management skills are off the charts. I have found such a great way to make things work and I kind of really love it in a way I honestly never thought I would since I’m such an introvert. I love talking with my followers, I enjoy anons, I enjoy asks, I LOVE supporting people with their craft – working in time to speak and engage with people on here has been so important and has really helped me grow as a person.

Making friends through my craft is one of the greatest highlights. I have made some truly remarkable friends through my time online and these are people I know without a shadow of doubt that I will remain friends with for the rest of my life. They are just incredible people and it was my fanfiction that brought them to me. Likewise, I have made friends through my original works, but I made strong and lasting friendships on here first and so I’ve known these people longer and have a more solidified bond with them. Learning to navigate my way through and find the people I click with the most is a good skill to have and the only way you can really learn it is through experience.

Sometimes people will only suck up to you because they want something from you. This is a sad truth, but the good thing is that when people do this, it’s usually pretty easy to tell. Avoid these people, they will just exhaust you.

Some people can’t be reasoned with. This one should be obvious, but it sure as hell wasn’t to me when I first got started on here LOL I’m the type of person that really doesn’t like to be at odds with people and so if I have a disagreement with someone, it’s usually important for me to speak to them and clear things up so that there’s a mutual understanding. FUN FACT: this does not always work with people. Another fun fact: sometimes trying to talk to the person rationally only makes things worse. Dealing with these kinds of people has been excellent for me because I’d never come across people like that before and so before being on here, I didn’t know how to handle them.

Something will always be Problematic. There is too much for me to say on this point since I feel so strongly about it, but basically, avoid people that go around calling stuff out for being Problematic. And I’d like to place a little reminder here as well: Just because a writer writes about something that is Problematic, that does not mean that the writer believes in or practices that Problematic thing.

Stick with your values. I have values that I always do my best to uphold. I believe in supporting people, spreading positivity, being patient with others, making people happy, and oh my god making people laugh and smile is one my favorite things ever! Having these tumblrs has affirmed my values and strengthened my resolve. I love having a positive influence on others and I want to make others feel good about themselves. I’ve learned a lot of different ways to do that and I’ve been able to take what I’ve learned from here and apply it to other areas of my life.

I’ve had a ton of great experiences on this site! I’ve had a few not so great ones, a couple of which actually made me cry, but all in all, I’m better for it. The good has infinitely outweighed the bad and being exposed to all this has for sure helped me with my writing career. You can’t learn how to handle situations until you experience them, ne? Hopefully this ask will help someone and anyone can come talk something out with me if they want! We are all learning and growing all the time and 100% I feel being on tumblr and being exposed to ~fandom~ has taught me a lot of great things!

#anon #I'm not good at everything I do though #I've got my flaws just like everyone else #long post #if this is TOO LONG and anyone would prefer it be under a cut #just let me know #I almost put it under one but then just ap8syd;foiajsd I don't know got weirdly anxious about it #and HEY IF ANYONE IS READING THESE TAGS #I have a question myself #it's something I've been wondering about #I'm a very private person and never go around advertising whenever I'm having a tough time with something #and there's nothing wrong if people do make a bunch of posts or whatever when they're upset #but since I don't do that and don't like to do that #then do people just assume I don't go through rough times and don't have feelings?#like if something happens and for the sake of an example I'll pick something really simple like say a key character dies #and I don't post about it or make a big show of how upset I am about it #do you then assume that I'm not upset?#again that's just an example #but still a pretty valid question #so yup shutting up now I've got shit to write #ay9sdpf8oaisljfk

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shaliira · 7 years ago

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The Cloaked Storm: Chapter 21 - Fear Within The Sidelines

Jedi Temple

It was one thing to stand at a distance and observe the Temple. It was one thing to stand at its footsteps looking up at the ancient pillars. But to actually walk the ancient halls again after so long. Valanthe almost felt as if she was trespassing in an ancient sanctum. The fact that she was both invited and ordered to attend was a whole different story.

Riis wished she could take her time to once again walk its entire halls, however that was not to be today. Today she needed to brief the Jedi on a dangerous situation that had arisen, and action that needed to be taken. As she rounded a corner towards a briefing centre, she could feel an ancient, powerful presence. One ever calm and ever mildly amused at the world.

Plo Koon. Valanthe thought with a smile.

The Kel-Dor had been of the median opinion back when her fate in the Jedi Order was ‘being decided’. He was far from happy with what she had done, but he was not the judgemental one either, willing to have the young Mirialan prove her devotion to the Light Side of the Force and the Jedi.

“Valanthe Riis, it has been a long time.” His deep timbre greeted her.

The Mirialan nodded as she approached, an info-pad in hand. “Indeed it has, Master Plo. How have you been? I’ve heard of the battle of Abregado-Rae...such a loss must have affected you deeply.”

Whether or not he was affected by her words was difficult to tell, his facial expression never gave away anything, and his Force signature remained as calm as always. He merely extended a taloned hand towards her.

“We persevere, regardless of the enemy’s attempt. My men have suffered the loss to a greater depth.” Plo said, his shoulders sagging a little, “they are a strong, severely underrated people.” He said.

Valanthe nodded slowly, smiling, “indeed they are.” She said, remembering her own former team, Ren’s ARC Troopers and Fives and Echo, whom she now worked with within the Special Operations Division of the GAR.

She dearly missed her old job at RMOI. Though she still regularly conversed with Xander and her other colleagues, working for the military was so very different. And now this...

“You are at a crossroads, young one.” Said Plo, looking at her curiously as he motioned for her to follow him.

Riis blinked, pausing for a moment before following the Kel-Dor, “I believe so...so many things have happened and are yet to happen...I am, conflicted as to what to do.”

“The Force will guide you, young one. When the time comes, you will know what to do.” He said as he lead them towards the briefing room.

Vala chuckled softly, “thank you, Master.”

“Your briefing, it also troubles you.” Plo nudged softly.

“Indeed, but I cannot reveal it here, we must wait for Kenobi and Skywalker.” Riis said as they entered the briefing room.

Plo nodded, “they will join us momentarily. They just returned from operations from the Outer Rim.”

Valanthe nodded as they stepped down to the small circular podium. “It is so strange to be here again. Part of me feels like a stanger…"

“Part of you feels at home…” Plo supplied, crossing his arms on his chest.

Slowly, Valanthe nodded, “I did not expect to feel it still, after all this time.”

It was true. She had thought she was beyond the old antiquated lifestyle, beyond the isolation of the Temple. It had been eight years since she walked among the Jedi as one of them. Eight years that had shown that her choice had been correct. Yet still...these ancient halls felt both familiar and comfortable and a strange, different place from another lifetime ago.

“It will always be part of you, this Temple, the Jedi, the friends you made here, the trials you went through.” Plo said kindly, “they molded you into who you are today, Valanthe Riis. Do not think it wrong, however. Your past helps you make decisions towards your future. Embrace it, do not run from it.”

Valanthe nodded, quirking her head a little, sensing familiar presences. The ever contained, wise yet ever concerned, Obi-Wan. The burning ember that sought freedom, Anakin. There was one she had not felt since her team got off of Balmorra. Loyal, reliable and very closed off, Commander Cody. Then there were Echo and Fives. Somehow it made perfect sense for Anakin to want the two ARCs with him on this mission. The two had been on 501st related assignments for a few weeks now, so Valanthe hadn’t seen much of the two men since they’d started working together.

“Ah, Valanthe!” Obi-Wan exclaimed as the small group descended the steps, “so good to see you again, old friend.”

“Hello again, Vala. How are you?” Anakin jumped in, grinning brightly, not to be outdone.

“It is good to see both again, you as well, Commander Cody.” Valanthe bowed slightly to them, “Fives, Echo, welcome back, gentlemen.”

Almost as one, the three clones echoed, “thank you, Commander.”

There was a mutual sense amusement among the Jedi, before the holo-projector flickered and an image of Captain Rex appeared.

“Hello again, Captain Rex.” Valanthe greeted as she turned to face the newcomer.

“Commander, Generals, troopers.” Rex greeted professionally and quickly.

“I wish I was here on a happier occasion.” Valanthe stepped over to the main console of the holo-projector, “I assume you all know what has happened to Master Piell.”

After a collective round of nods, she connected her info-pad to the projector and initiated several commands, bringing up an image of an ancient looking building.

“We have learned that Master Piell and what is left of his crew is being held at The Citadel. As you all know, The Cidatel was designed as an impenetrable prison, one designed to hold rogue Jedi on the planet Lola Sayu.” Valanthe began the briefing. “Nowadays it is in the hands of the CIS, with one Osi Sobeck as its warden. To this date, noone has has escaped.”

Anakin spoke up, confidence and challenge in his voice, “there’s a first time for everything.”

In sync with his former apprentice and now practically brother, Obi-Wan added, “indeed there is.”

“We need to be cautious none the less.” Plo advised.

Valanthe nodded, “indeed you must. With almost no reconnaissance available due to their security measures, we have managed to construct a crude map based on known information and old archival data from the Temple, kindly provided by Master Sinube and Master Plo.” The Mirialan nodded to the Kel-Dor.

“The data is difficult to rely on at the best of times,” Plo said, gesturing to the tunnel schematic which now appeared, “due to our information being extremely old.”

“The facility was built roughly 530 years ago…” Valanthe supplied.

“So, we are essentially going in blind,” Anakin spoke up again.

Holo-Rex interjected before more could be said, “with respect, Generals, how do we know Master Piel is still alive?”

“The Separatists need him alive,” Plo said, crossing his clawed hands behind his back, “so long as he has the information, he is useful to them.”

“The information being a secret set of coordinates known as the Nexus Route. It travels into the heart of Republic and Separatist space.” Valanthe supplied. “This is what Master Peel was in possession of when he was captured.”

She could see Echo and Fives behind Cody, their Force signatures clearly displaying wonder as to how such a leak could have happened. How did the Separatists learn the Republic had this information?

It was what Valanthe wondered herself. But this was within the RMOI purview, something she no longer had full access to. Now, she was GAR Spec Ops Intel Liaison, which meant she was on limited access to intel pertaining to the GAR and their operations. She would have to ask Night later if he knew anything about how the Separatists got wind of this crucial find.

“These coordinates could prove vital to maneuvring our forces into remote separatist sectors.” Obi-Wan began.

“Or the enemy could use them to slip through our defenses and attack Coruscant.” Anakin added.

“These hyper-lanes are of immense interest to both our sides,” Plo nodded, “and could tip the scale of the war to whoever is in the possession of them.”

“So you all understand the necessity of finding a way into the Citadel to rescue Master Piel. Make no mistake about this, gentlemen, this is a mission of utmost secrecy. Noone beyond this room and Masters Yoda and Windu may know about this.” Valanthe urged.

“Based on the archive schematics, we have narrowed it down to three possible locations they could be holding Master Piell.” Plo said.

“My greatest concern is penetrating their outer security,” Obi-Wan said, his expression one of utmost seriousness. “The life form scanners will not be easy to fool.”

Anakin was already thinking uncoventionally ahead as was his usual way, “I’ve got a thought about that.”

“Oh?” Valanthe raised an eyebrow.

“What masks lifesigns yet is common to not raise suspicion if discovered?” Anakin looked over at Valanthe with a grin.

“Oh that’s very clever. Carbonite freezing.” Valanthe chuckled.

“That’s right!”

“Very clever indeed,” Obi-Wan agreed.

“If there are any other questions, pose them now because time is of the essence. Master Piell is strong, but even the strongest can break if pressured for long enough.” Valanthe cautioned.

She could feel a sense of pride and approval projected towards her from Plo and Obi-Wan, while Fives and Echo projected admiration.

“Everyone clear on what your objective is? Rescue Master Piell and his crew and attain the Nexus Route coordinates?” Valanthe asked again.

After another collective round of nods, the Mirialan dismissed the Jedi and the Clones.

As they exited the briefing room, Valanthe felt Fives and Echo hesitate momentarily. Making her good byes to the Jedi, Valanthe turned to them once she realized they were still there, waiting.

“You’re not coming with us…” Fives stated, his Force signature dimming as she nodded slowly.

“I’ve got a different assignment I need to take care of.” Valanthe sighed. She didn’t, not really, but it beat saying that she was pretty much barred from Jedi related missions, even if she would be going in a GAR capacity. She didn’t have the heart to tell them just on how many levels she was still shunned from the Jedi society.

Echo nodded, “we’ll get them out, Commander.”

“I know,” Vala smiled, doing her best to hide her concern from them. The Citadel was not a place for anyone. “I have faith in you.”

Their Force signatures brightened. The two men seemed to stand taller too, taller than their usual, military stance.

“Come back in one piece, okay?” Valanthe placed a hand on each of their shoulders, nodding solemnly to them.

The atmosphere grew thick with swirling, confusing emotions. It was Fives and Echo who broke it by putting on their helmets and saluting her.

In as best a military posture as she could muster, Valanthe snapped to attention and saluted the two ARC Troopers. “Force be with you, gentlemen.”

“And you, Commander.” Fives replied thickly as the trio relaxed their stances. “We better join the others.”

Valanthe nodded, giving her silent permission for them to leave. The two began to walk away. The Mirialan slowly turned, watching the two blue and white figures among the sea of brown and beige. There was a heavy feeling about the place, something indescribably wrong. She couldn’t tell what it was. It was almost as if she was saying farewell, though she couldn’t pinpoint why, or to whom.

Shaking her head out of her reverie, Valanthe decided to focus on what she could do, what she could influence. For that she needed information. She needed to talk to Xander. He was working an angle, and he would periodically send her data to one of the several dead drops she had set up. Vala needed to see if he’d learned anything more.

The heavy feeling started washing away as she departed the Temple, walking down the promenade. Valanthe felt slightly guilty, turning her thoughts away from the mission and her men going into one of the most dangerous places in the Galaxy. How easily she was able to turn her thoughts away and disconnect from the emotion attached to it.

How Jedi of me. Turning from those in need for the sake of putting out another fire elsewhere without regard for the consequences of leaving too soon? Vala thought to herself as she descended the steps, pulling her coat around her tighter, as the artificial air around her seemingly grew cold. Or was it just her imagination?

Gallifrey Lane, Sector 2-12, sometime later

Gallifrey Lane was a study in opposites, when it came to who lived on it. While most of the apartments were designed by Benits Stinex, an architect famous throughout the Republic, frequently known as ‘the Old Man’, it was the rest of the buildings that kept the Lane from being high end, keeping it only at partly affluent level. The rest of the buildings were quite clearly built by ‘new money’ families, many of which fell into disrepair once the families moved on to more elite neighborhoods.

One such was number 22, an apartment building in which Xander Night lived. It was unremarkable in its look and upkeep, which was pretty much perfect for who he was and what he did.

Which made it all the more confusing when Valanthe sensed a great number of clones and others near number 22 as she approached the complex. Among the emergency responders, there was also a forensics vehicle, as well as several vehicles she recognized as belonging to RMOI.

What is going on? Valanthe wondered as she came to a stop about a hundred meters from the building. She could see the colours and markings of the Coruscant Guard on the clone armour. RMOI doesn’t get this much fanfare, ever.

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to step away,.” a clone’s voice broke through her thoughts.

The green skinned woman blinked, “what’s going on, Trooper?”

“There has been an incident, ma’am. Please, step away,.” the trooper replied, his gauntleted hand tightening around his rifle.

Valanthe rolled her eyes visibly, the sense of urgency and dread, filling her. So much so in fact, she completely ignored the fact that this poor man was just doing his job and did not deserve her ire.

“Yes, I can see there’s been an incident! I am asking what’s happened!” Valanthe growled, not stopping her approach.

“Ma’am, remain where you are!” He raised his weapon deftly, pointing it at her, “this is CT-8976-92, I need…”

Valanthe’s arm shot out, “you need nothing. It was just an animal. False alarm,.” sShe said in a calm, even tone, lilac eyes focused on his head, where the man’s eyes would be.

“Trooper! CT-8976-92, what’s going on?” Came over his wristcom.

“Nothing, sir. It was just an animal. False alarm. Sector is clear,.” said the Trooper almost mechanically.

The communication was cut. The Mirialan’s hand raised again, “you will forget you saw me.”

“I will forget I saw you.” The Trooper nodded stiffly, slowly turning and returning to his post.

Valanthe nodded, stepping backwards, assessing the situation through her training as well as opening herself to the Force. She was trying to isolate a specific Force signature, one very familiar, almost comforting in the confidence that she always associated to it.

I can’t find you! Panic and dread swiftly returned.

Valanthe ducked behind the nearest corner and leaned against the wall. Her heart was beating fast, almost thundering in her ears. Calm down! Focus! Breathe! Taking a long, deep breath she tried to expel the negative emotions through breathing out. Slowly, slower than she would have liked, the feelings abated and calm returned.

She needed to get into that building and see for herself what was going on. Should she just waltz back in there and reveal who she is and thus her connection to Night? Didn’t he get her reassigned just for that reason? To distance them in the face of the public so that they both could perform their investigations without too much interference. Could she use her skills on everyone she passed to implant suggestions and thereby pass by under false pretense?

She shook her head at herself. It was likely that she would come across a strong mind or two on whom her skills would not have an effect and then she would be in trouble. Hurting people today was not on her list.

So that left her with one option. Taking another deep breath, Valanthe pulled the Force about her, slowly shimmering out of sight.

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ajokeformur-ray · 8 years ago

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I would like a friendship and romantic matchup please with someone from Black Butler, Death Note, and Bleach? Just type matchup on my blog search box, and you will find all the information you need on me. =) - requested by @artsy-jandi

This is a big request, so it took a while - sorry for the wait; I also had shit go down with my laptop, so that’s why it’s been several days since I said it’d be posted. Your description was incredibly detailed! I’ve summed it up to make it easier on myself and based on that, your platonic and romantic ships are...

Black Butler - friendship matchup

Elizabeth Midford

- I think you and Lizzie would really get on well

- While she’s loud and boisterous, she also carries a serious side, which I think comes from the fact that she’s a Phantomhive

- Lizzie can sometimes upset people without meaning to, and even when you say nothing, she’d feel terrible and would cry over her mistake; she’d certainly go to great lengths to make up for it

- She’d bring some light and warmth to your life, especially in the moments where the dark is harder than usual to contain

- You’d both be very protective of each other, woe betide anyone who upsets or hurts either one of you - together, you’re a force to be reckoned with

- She’d also encourage you to spend a little less time in your daydreams and a bit more time being productive

- However, if you’re being productive while daydreaming, she’ll take a step back, satisfied that your’re doing the best you can

- She wouldn’t pick up on those moments when you’d like to be left alone with your stories, and if you don’t tell her, she’ll keep being Lizzie, which could lead to confrontation

- I think this is when someone else in the household would step in, probably Ciel, who would understand the need for solitude, and would distract Lizzie for you, or tell her to leave because he has ‘errands’ to do [Read: wants her to leave because she’s too loud for him over a long period of time].

Black Butler - romantic matchup

Sebastian Michaelis

- Slightly ironic, I won’t lie. but hear me out

- Your procrastination would intrigue him - why are you putting off what needs to be done? What are you thinking so deeply about? Why do you prefer your own company over other people’s? And the questions would go on...

- He’d be greatly interested in your soul - not so much as he is in Ciel’s, of course, but your soul has been tainted too because of your past, and he’d want to see how it affects you in every day life.

- BUT despite the fact he’s a demon, he’s also going to appreciate your humanity - the humanity that he knows will kill people for money and also for their own survival, and the fact that you have compassion despite everything you’ve been through, will intrigue and surprise him.

- He’d stick to you like glue (not like he does with Ciel, that’s totally different) and would often watch you, being interested in the fact that you haven’t let life get you down or change who you are at your core, despite your soul being blackened by tragedy

- Don’t even think about Sebastian talking to you or interacting with you when he’s around your cats. Just don’t. It’s impossible to tear him away.

- He’d indulge your interest in cultures and literature - he’d bring you the finest, oldest, leather-bound books from dusty libraries, he’d brew you the oldest teas and make you remedies for your hair and skin, importing the ingredients from various countries depending on the ingredient’s properties and what they can do for you, and he’d spoil you, for sure.

- Would be content to let you daydream - he’s a Butler, after all. Busy!

- He’d try to tempt you to the ‘dark side’ but your stubbornness and strength to keep your promises would impress him - humans are such fascinating creatures

Death Note - friendship matchup

Misa Amane

- So. She’s a lot like Lizzie, I think, though she has her fair share of darkness, too.

- The two of you would bond over shopping and having your own dreams - whether you share them with each other or not is silently agreed in the moment

- Misa would understand your devotion to God and the importance of keeping promises - she’s entirely dedicated to Light and would do anything for him - this mutual understanding would definitely pave the way for a strong friendship

- You’d spend nights together, pampering yourselves - maincures, pedicures, hair treatments, skin treatments... the full works. You’d make your own home remedies and Misa would get all the ingredients

- You’re both very protective of each other, for sure.

- Misa wouldn’t ever tell you this, but she would literally kill for you - all she needs is a name. And, once she has the eyes, all she needs is a face.

- If someone so much as looked at you wrong, they’d never be seen again.

- She acts too, so you’d bond over this as well.

- It’d be an almost one-side obsessive friendship, with many secrets lying just beneath the surface - and none of them are yours.

Death Note - romantic matchup

Matt

- Matt is incredibly understanding and very intelligent, and I think it’d be a rather... casual relationship

- You’d be the couple that don’t act as though you’re together, but you are, if that makes sense

- He’d never ever so much as tempt you into breaking your promise to your mum, and if he did, it’d be completely accidental and he’d apologise and be more mindful of himself in future

- He’d appreciate your creative side and would encourage it - he’d tell you to not let your dreams just be dreams, and to make as many of them come true as possible

- Very protective of you - you’d be his one motivation for living and for doing what he needs to do to get to where he wants to be. Simply put, you’re his reason

- He’s not religious, but he’d understand your devotion to someone greater than yourself and would encourage you to stay as close to Him as you already are

- I think he’d know when you need alone time to be with you and your daydreams, and he’d give you that space. He can get insecure sometimes, but all he’d need is one word, and he’s reassured

- He’s incredibly supportive of you - you’re his only light, and he’ll do all he can to make sure that no one so much as even dims that light - not even you

- Would find your daydreaming endearing, and would often game while you’re doing chores or something else, lost inside your own mind. He’d only pull you out of your dreaming if he needed to.

Bleach - friendship matchup

Rukia Kuchiki

- OMG okay, you’re both daydreamers to. the. EXTREME.

- Rukia is also quite artistic in that she draws (attempts to?) and she’s a very skilled actress, so the two of you would get on like a house on fire

- She has trouble opening up to people and making friends, but I think you’d make this easier for her, without even realising it - she’d gradually find herself opening up to you, letting you in piece by piece, and you’d strengthen each other

- She doesn’t understand the modern Human World at all, so you’d also bond over having to teach her how to function in today’s society

- You’d never - or rarely - argue. You both dislike confrontation - though Rukia will face it if absolutely necessary

- She has trouble finding clothes that fit, so. All the shopping trips omggggg

- Both of you are modest and intelligent, and both of you have experienced the darker side of humanity and she’s quite perceptive, so just know that she’s there to pick you up, and vice versa, when it’s necessary

- She wouldn’t even try to get you to be productive more so than you already are; she knows the power of dreams and is happy to let you be alone when you need to be

- A very supportive, healthy friendship

Bleach - romantic matchup

Ukitake Jushiro

- This cute lil’ cinnamon roll would love and cherish you completely, exactly as you are, and would have no difficulties in making it known, either

- He’d understand your need to be away from people often, to be in your own company, and he’d give you all the space you need, rarely asking for something from you

- He’s very perceptive, so he’d know exactly what you need and when you need it, before you do

- He’d encourage your artistic temperament, spoiling you with all the materials and inspiration you could ever need

- He’d admire the fact that you’ve experienced things no one should ever have to, and yet you’re an incredibly light, happy person

- He’d treat you and your loved ones with the utmost respect, and would do anything for them and for you, protecting you, even if it meant giving up his own life

- Ukitake would be patient with you; explaining something as best he can until you understand. It doesn’t matter how many times he has to explain it, each explanation will be slightly different from the last in the hopes that at least one of them will bring everything to light for you

- He’d be down for natural treatments and he’d have pamper dates with you - both of you are getting manis, pedis, hair treatments, the works - this depends on how bad his illness is on any given day, but for the most part, he’s going on dates with you whenever he can

- He’d wholly appreciate your devotion to Him and also keeping your promises and would do his best to help you keep them

I’m so sorry for the long wait! I really hope you like at least one of these ships and that it’s as you wanted - if not, dm me, I’ll redo

#ukitake imagine #rukia imagine #sebastian imagine #misa #others idk who #Black Butler #Death Note #Bleach

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ecotone99 · 6 years ago

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[SF] The Dog Men of Cannon Mountain

Hey guys, wrote this a while back and forgot about it. Was really trying to write it in the style of good old H.P Lovecraft while also trying out some of my own style, so if you're wondering why things are vague or strange that's why. Submitted it for a writers contest recently because hey why not. anyhow, if you could all give me some criticism on how to improve or if it was good or not, what you liked/hated, that'd be swell. Thanks.

The Dog Men Of Cannon Mountain:

It is with a painful recollection that i attempt to tell this tale. Even now the fever of the mind plagues my psyche in trying to recollect that horrid encounter in that dreadful cabin on that cursed mountain in nineteen forty eight. Had i been a man of greater foresight or perhaps a time traveler i would have warned myself of the grievous travesty my small circle of friends and i were doomed to bring to fruition. My name is Edward Phillips, this is my tale of terror.

In the early days of fall the Eastern coast of the United States begins to change. The leaves on the trees shift into a state of beautiful decay, causing the ever present greenery to descend into a blissful amber and many a man can be seen gawking in the general upward direction of these sights. Accompanying the intricate differences in fauna comes the drastic shift in climate temperature that spreads like an icy weed over the coastline and inevitably inward toward the greater United States. The cold. The Snow. That dreaded ice giant that stumbles out of the nothing to bring with it a cold so deep and unforgiving that it permeates the countryside far longer than wanted or expected.

With such a bleak and even harrowing description of the East coast one wonders why a man may choose to live in a place so damn unforgiving. The truth is, that the men and women who populate this area of America are of great resilience to their mother nature, and are some of the most pleasant individuals one can come across in life, if you’ll believe it. They work hard for what they earn, and ring true to the image of the ideal American. Many from outside the parameters of this area would insist that the man of the east challenges the great winter giant on a yearly basis, belittling and poking fun at the angry beast that controls his environment. Like a badge of honor, the hardy people of the eastern seaboard take great pride in the innumerable downsides of their habitat, and none i dare say are as kind hearted as the ones who reside in the great state of New Hampshire, where my tale unfolds.

New Hampshire, compared to a majority of other states is a dismally small blip on the map geographically speaking. However if one were to find themselves within the expanse of its mountain ranges they’d swear the place had no borders, only an endless realm of untamed wilderness and beauty, a frontier of palpable primordial spectacles. No different from the rest of the state is the town of Franconia, who resides nearest to Echo lake along the highway ninety three with very little as far as population goes. I was not a denizen of this area but rather from the neighboring state of Massachusetts within the town of Marblehead. My close friend and esteemed colleague of Emerson College also located in Massachusetts, Daniel Barker, had been birthed in the town of Revere. Daniel however, was gifted with the luxury of both parental figures originating from a wealthy area in Rhode Island, whose name eludes me. Daniel had always had a modestly rich family, one who would probably look down upon my company as a man simply for my choices in clothing and of course, my wealth, or in this instance lack thereof. They had always been an uptight lot of people with serpent like qualities of character. Daniel was cut from a different slab. He was everything his family was not, to say that which he was a kind, charitable and above all else entrepid youth of twenty with an appreciation for the stillness and serenity of nature.

During our studies at Emerson College we had both found a mutual interest in the confines of books and storytelling to the greatest degree of friendship despite our societal hierarchy being on opposite ends of the spectrum. He was a tall, handsome fellow with a squared jaw, a barreled chest, strikingly perfect hair and unmistakable charisma. I myself was a bookish lad of nineteen with circular spectacles, combed over brown hair and an average build. While some may say my features are handsome i will never define myself in such a manner, as i no longer look in the mirror for fear of something looking back at me. Peculiar it was that daniel and i would become so closely bonded over our time in school together that once a year, for the past three years at least, we would all venture up toward his families luxurious cabin up in the hills of Cannon Mountain and enjoy the sights, drink a variety of different ales and liquors, and of course, write to our heart's content without the indignation of outside parties. The festivities occured much to the chagrin of his mother and father, who swore up and down that myself and our other good friend Henry would corrupt his character. This current year however, the family was quite adamant about allowing us time together, insisting that we get away for a while.

This time we had decided the trip would take place in January. All of us were in concurrence with the notion and planning began in early December. While the trip itself only ever lasted three or four days at best, it was of the utmost importance to be prepared for an extended visitation should the weather change for the worse. This time of year the snow falls heavily and consistently, burying the vast majority of the state in a blanket of fresh and clean crystalized powder. We had ample provisions stashed away in anticipation of our endeavour to the cabin, myself having prepared a large pack with various warm clothes, wool socks, a small box filled with miscellaneous medical supplies in case a member of our three man party should sustain an unforeseen injury, and of course, a hefty amount of stationary implements for my intended writing. Daniel was a well prepared lad who had brought a variety of different tools for survival in the great outdoors such as flint, a folding shovel, matches, a barbaric looking survival knife, and of course a Krag Jorgensen carbine. This cut down Norwegian weapon had been a gift from Daniel's grandfather when he had turned seventeen, and while i personally had no interest or notion of knowledge toward firearms, it made us all feel safer when alone in the woods should some bear creature take too close a curiosity with us. Henry, of course, brought with him tools of inebriation. While only a man of twenty himself he had developed a habitual liking into the bottle, not so much that it controlled him, but closely enough for people to assume it all the same. Of course, each of us brought a respective pair of snowshoes.

The drive was a slow and daunting one, Daniels automobile, while something neither Henry or myself could dream to afford in the near future was indeed an advantage, it was a treacherous drive riddled with uneasiness and a certain questioning of the mechanical dependency with which we transported ourselves, at least for Henry and myself. Daniel, as always had maintained his supreme confidence and capabilities of mobility, never once calling into question his ability to take the icy roads by storm at speeds reasonably less safe than preferable.

We parked the automobile in a dirt and snow covered lot several miles south of our desired location, taking by foot into the hills and ascending into the mountains with gusto. So enthralled I felt by the winter surroundings that lavished the countryside, So carefully placed did the icicles form from the tips of trees. So fresh the air was. So quiet and vast was the land we tread. So foolish i was to allow my friends the fate they would soon be given.

After an hour or so of tiresome walking we came to the cabin, which rested in between a somewhat open fielded area at the base of one of Cannon mountain and a thickly forested void. It was a splendid sight to see, two floors in total were it’s structure, with only two doors, one on either end, and a long window overlooking the entirety of the valley like landscape before us on one side. That night the chimney plumed with the smoke of aged wood prepared and chopped by Daniel a month prior, and the cabin was alight with pleasant conversation between the best of friends. Merriments were had and stories we all knew and had retold infinite times prior were brought up in their endless cycle of humorous repetition as friends do. That night, i turned in early do to exhaustion from the hike here. As i ascended the immaculate wooden staircase I peered down to Henry and Daniel, who of course were still going on about their travels and lives, pasts and futures. Had i known this would be the last night of solace we would all share together, I'd have at least stayed longer than i had.

That night, i lay in my small guest bedroom, sitting up and gazing thoughtfully out the circular window at the bluish hue the moon cast upon the frigid wasteland that enveloped us. The trees were like golems of wood in the distance, still and undisturbed by our playful antics. Strangely, in all that vast stillness on the horizon my eye was caught with the scarcest bit of movement within the far off tree line. Blinking several times to adjust my eyes, perhaps seeing something that wasn’t there, i focused outward again. There it was. Slow moving and large. A misshapen apparition haunted the distance. At the time i had attempted to rationalize with myself, being a boy of many anxieties in childhood. A hunter perhaps. Man of the woods who stalked it’s denizens for sport. That had to be it. Just then as i found myself coming to terms with my conclusion, the bulky anomaly halted. It was said once by my father that a man can feel when he is being watched regardless of distance, and up until this moment in time i had thought my father a fool for believing he had such superhuman senses. Yet here i was, feeling as though despite the ludicrous space between us, that this nameless thing had seen me, had locked eyes with me and had stared back without the slightest notion of fear. Somewhere down stairs a bottle broke, followed by laughter, startling me enough to pull my eyes from the window temporarily. Naturally when i looked back I could make out no apparition or strange being gazing menacingly off in the snow somewhere. The only notion of difference now was that the wind had picked up considerably. I laid myself down to rest and thought no more of it.

The next morning i awoke relatively early as the sun came up. Walking quietly downstairs to the larger living quarters, i notice Henry lazily passed out on the old, long sofa that took up the most space in the cabin. Daniel was standing in the doorway, scratching his head. As i approached him to figure out why he looked so perplexed my senses were bombarded by the stench of death. I pause momentarily to analyze the scent which viciously overtook my nostrils. Reaching the door, Daniel was staring down at the carcass of some type of animal on the porch. A very young deer perhaps. I had to turn away for a brief interlude, trying not to expel whatever remained in my stomach from the night prior. Daniel stared at the poor creature with remorse and disgust simultaneously. I looked back once more at the amalgamation of dead flesh. It was a sickly sight, the animals limbs were bent and contorted in disproportionate, painful and unnatural ways. It’s stomach had been spilled by several large slash marks on the visible parts of the belly. The throat flapped and leaked dark blood. The Fawn had a variety of misshapen sticks pushed into its body that it’s snapped legs were wrapped around and it’s long, pulpy tongue stuck out of its mouth with a sickly deep purple. No longer could i hold back, i ran past Daniel and into the snow, releasing my innards and tainting the white with bile. Soon Henry had stirred and risen to much the same reaction as myself. He and Daniel removed the carcass soon after that, disposing of it in the thicket of woods not far away.

That afternoon the snow began to fall very quickly. The skys greyed within minutes and the wind howled ferociously. We came to the conclusion that whatever had performed that sickening display of torture could not have been some simple animal, the injuries were too brutal for a simple minded predator to perform with such needless hate. This had to have been the doing of a man, a cruel man. surely. We decided that it would be best to head back to the vehicle first thing in the morning, and return with haste to our respective homes for fear of some further harassment in the form of pointless cruelty. There was no telling of tales that night by the fire. No jostling of humorous intent that we all wanted. Only an eerie suspicion that we were being watched from afar, and while any man could attest that no living human could survive the blizzard outside and live to tell of it, I had a feeling in my gut that it was something beyond human that circled our cabin like prey. As we all drifted into uncomfortable sleep that night by the dying fire, uneasiness spread over us like a cancer.

A dream came to me that night, one of great looming fear. Out in the cold distance, beneath the trees, I could see eyes. No ordinary eyes of man were these. They were a sickening red that had a dull lifelessness about them. A stare of foreboding utterances and dark promises. It knew I was scared, and it welcomed the idea, relished it even. This apparition sat motionless, cloaked in the shadow of the trees. Behind it, more eyes similar to the first opened up. A cluster of hateful and predatory vision cast itself at me, on me, into me. I could hear strange whispers in the dark of no known language, as if some ancient tongue shared between these faceless monstrosities was speaking and planning. But of what i know not. The feeling of being watched by some hateful pack of things lasted far longer in dream than I’d ever known a dream to last, as i felt i would spend an eternity locked in gaze with these creatures. A violent scream tore me from my mental prison.

Henry, who was thrashing on the couch next to Daniel had begun wailing in pain and fear. Both Daniel and I had sprung up immediately in confusion to try and awake him from his nightmare, only to find the normally quite skinny and frail lad to be overwhelmingly strong in his erratic movements. He began to shout.

“They’re coming! They’re coming! They’re out there! They’re coming!” he shouted.

Daniel and I were both attempting to keep our composure, but managed to restrain our friend and shake him awake after the better part of five minutes had passed. When he finally awoke he broke down into tears. We had little to offer him as far as comfort went, as Daniel and I found ourselves lost in a sense of directionless fear. When questioned as to what happened, he spoke of a vivid dream, or better nightmare that he was trapped in for some amount of time. He went on about The Hounds of the hills, the things he saw attempt to take him in his mind. It all made very little sense to us until he had mentioned something about the eyes in the distance, to which i felt a sense of icy recollection wash over me. Henry and i had experienced something of a similar experience, except his was far more long lasting and detailed. Daniels complexion had been made pale by our friends ramblings, and as we both went into the small kitchen to get Henry something to drink, i questioned him about if he had had a similar dream. We were left dumbfounded when we both came to the realization that all three of us had shared a similar night terror. That simply did not happen. Apparently my experience had been the least harrowing of the three of us, with mine only reaching climax at the beginning of Daniels ordeal which apparently had lasted hours, which begs to question just how long Henry was trapped in his own mind. Daniel was feeling a bit ill weathered, and i had noticed his hair looked longer and out of place, perhaps the result of his frightful sleep escapade.

Upon return, Henry was curled up in the corner of the room, rambling on and on about the Primordial Pack who sought new flesh for their growing family, the Dog Men of the Mountain who had been here long before the world of man, the ones who had terrorized the Native Americans, who had lived within the mountain for eons until they desired new blood, who would call to those unfortunate enough to hear their dream howls. At once i felt a mixture of emotions stirring in my mind. I simultaneously found myself pitying poor Henry for having such horrid visions forced into his gulliver, and yet, a sense of relief that i had not been as unfortunate as him. He would not take the glass of water. He would not hear anything we said. He was not even here.

Just as we were preparing to set Henry back to sleep on the couch, a powerful thud landed on the front door. Then another. And then another, the third accompanied by a horrifying noise. So inhuman and evil was the gurgling bellow that i found myself sweating at a cyclic rate, backing away from the door. Henry had begun to clutch his temples and opened his mouth as though he were screaming, but no noise escaped him. Daniel quickly retrieved and loaded his rifle, pointing it at the door. I had no weapon what to defend myself with. What felt like hours passed. Henry was still mumbling something to himself.

“Don’t fall asleep Daniel.” he said. “That’s how they turn you. Don’t fall asleep. They want you Daniel.”

I rushed over and plugged Henry’s mouth with my hand for fear of Daniel shooting him. His madness had truly driven him to a deep insanity, but there was no denying i felt the urge to heed his words. By the time Daniel had lowered his rifle, it was somewhere around one in the morning, and we were suddenly feeling a wave of exhaustion. The wind still echoed eerily in the distance outside. My mind swirled with possibilities and the faint possibility that our death was approaching and yet i found my eyelids curiously heavy. Daniel was resting his back against the fireplace which now housed only hot embers. I attempted to keep Henry awake, as I noticed he had already drifted to sleep, his lips still chattering wordlessly. Shaking him did no good, slapping him had no effect. I turned to Daniel. If we were going to come out of this, the person with the gun would be the best one to remain sane. I crawled over to him with great effort, trying so hard not to pass out, my limbs held the weight of someone three times my size. Daniel had begun to flutter at the eyelids, and as I found myself too weak to reach him i lay my face down, catching a glimpse of something watching me in the window as my eyes shut on their own, my screams internalized due to the helpless state my physical body had been left in.

I dreamed again, drifting through the endless mire of the mind. Now the eyes in the distance became clearer. The misshapen denizens of the mountain took a step out of the darkness, perhaps finally piercing the last mental barrier that held them back, and approached our sanctum of the cabin. Slowly they came, some walking upright and dignified, others on all fours more akin to the beasts they looked like. They were not always proportionate, and were in some areas sickly thin while others muscular and strapping. The darkness still shrouded them almost entirely, making features hard to distinguish with exception to the large ears and hellish red eyes transfixed on myself and my friends, who were staring motionless out in front of the porch, unable to move our bodies in the slightest. They were everywhere and from all angles. The closer they came through the howling wind and snow the more I found myself growing colder and colder. The pale moon somehow shining its light upon the beasts made only worse our situation, as blindness would have been preferable to watching your doom encroach.

Just before the pack closed in completely, outstretching their clawed hands and exposing a set of jagged sharp teeth from a mouth so unnaturally wide, I awoke. I was back in the guest bedroom. At once i threw myself out of the comfort of my bed and looked out the window. Nothing, not even the wind.but i was not convinced. There was no possible dream so vivid as this, so deep with memory and detail. Unless i was still asleep. I’m not sure to this day what was a dream and what was not. I cautiously walked down the stairs, praying for some form of relief in the sight of my friends. Hoping against hope that they were of sound mind and body.

Henry lay motionless on the couch in sleep. The rifle rest against the fireplace. The door was partially open. Daniel was nowhere to be seen. Hurriedly i rushed over to shut the door to seperate ourselves from the frozen hellscape. I walked over to the other side of the cabin where the largest window was and attempted to pour myself a glass of water from the small kitchen. It was a much welcomed drink. I gaze out the large glass window, feeling a sense of what i hesitated to call relief. There were still many questions to be answered, most prominent of them all was our friend Daniels whereabouts. The only logical explanation was that Daniel had awoken before myself and Henry, and decided to put us both to sleep in our respective beds. That was just like him, a kind man even in such a dismal, bleak scenario. But where was he?

A large, clawed hand slapped against the thick glass of the cabin window, causing me to jump back. Raising itself to level with my vision, my greatest fear was made reality, the eyes and teeth of the dream beast had focused on me yet again, this time i finally got a good look at the thing, though in all my mind i wish i hadn’t. It was a hideous, primeval creature, it’s skin was a dark oily blue with even darker blue patches of long mangey hair. It’s large ears were canine in nature, but not like that of a lycan of myth but something more unnatural and gut wrenching. It’s flat face exhibited small nasal passages and it carried with it a sickly smile on it’s outstretched maw. Many of them began to appear on the window, slamming their powerful hands against the glass in anger and hateful frustration. The now wavering, cracked glass was the only thing that seperated my frail mortal body from these ancient monstrosities. They growled and gurgled and howled into the night as the glass was soon to give way. I grabbed a knife from the kitchen and I made back to the living room where Henry was still asleep. I attempted to wake him in vain yet again, only for the front door to fly off its hinges.

It was Daniel. Or at least, what had become of Daniel. His arms were stretched out thin and long, covered in tufts of blueish hair with hands ending in long nailed fingers, his mouth was not his. The jaw of my friend was now unhinged and stretched downward in a sickening display of dripping, boiling salivation and rows upon rows of strong sharp teeth. His shirt was torn and tattered and his shoes were absent. Daniel attempted to writhe and stumble forward toward us, gripping at his temple with one hand and stretching out the other in a grabbing gesture, as if half his mind were fighting the other half to retain his humanity. I called out to him, pleaded with him to resist, to stop. He did not. He lurched forward, eyes disproportionately twitching involuntarily, one sad and somber the other sunken, red, and straining forward with an indescribable pain.

A crack pierced the air and Daniel dropped to the floor, blood oozing from a silver dollar sized hole in his skull. To my shock i turned to see Henry, Brandishing our friends rifle and twitching uncontrollably. He turned the rifle toward me in a fit of frightened retaliation should i have met a similar fate as Daniel. I had not. We stared at each other for a brief interlude and he lowered the gun.

“T-They got Him, Edward. They got him. They wanted him. I-I’m sorry.” He spoke in such a somber tone, racked with guilt for his murderous deed. He began to cry.

“...I’m sorry too Henry.” I said somberly.

The glass in the kitchen finally gave way, much to our surprise. From within the cramped kitchen now scrambled a horrific, thrashing mess of the predatory assailants, surely coming to either eviscerate us, or worse, turn us into one of them. Henry fired another shot into the kitchen.

“Run Edward! For god's sakes, run for the car!” Henry screamed at me as he continued to fire into the mound of hellish beast men. I didn’t hesitate, and for this reason alone i consider myself a coward. I turned and ran out the from door, only for Daniel to grab at my leg, somehow still alive after a bullet through the cranium. His touch was one of icy hellish hands that sent a splintering pain into my body. With the knife in hand, i slashed at his hand in a fury of strikes, screaming, nearly severing my former friend at the wrist and rushed out into the blizzard, behind me the unnatural wailing of hate and bellowing of monstrosities was matched with the ever prevalent gunshot. As i faded into the blinding snow and headed down the mountain through the moonlit darkness, the sounds of Henry firing the rifle faded into nothingness.

I ran for what must have been hours, aimless and lost in a north eastern blizzard without so much as a jacket to prevent my untimely demise. Far behind me, the echoes of the Dog men filled the night. They were after me for sure. It was only when i reached a road of unspecified origin that a passing policeman had found me. I was a hyperthermia riddle pale ghost of a man clutching a bloody knife in a snowstorm, rambling about monsters and the death of my friends.

When i was finally subdued and brought into hospital care, i was questioned by the police about what had transpired on the mountainside. The tale I told, this one, was enough to land me within the psychiatric ward of greater Massachusetts until the trial for my friends disappearance and subsequent murder, which i fear i will most certainly be found guilty of, takes place in the following weeks. The police returned to the cabin several days later, only to find it completely empty, albeit with signs of a struggle and broken glass littering the ground. Sitting in my padded cell, i hesitate to sleep for fear of what i may become. I have been disowned by my family for my madness and ostracized by society, but I know. I know what lurks out in the wilderness, and I know that i will never be free of the image of that thing that plagues my mind. What purpose they serve eludes me. They are beyond my or your understanding. Their motives are their own. I will always fear them, for the remainder of my days. Those ancient, evil earth devils. Those hateful, unnatural things. The Hounds of the Hills, the Eyes in the Distance, The Dog Men of Cannon Mountain.

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blondebird · 7 years ago

Text

Headcanon Transfer

Before + Stationary + Mental Health + Jobs And More...

HC | BEFORE THE APOCAYLPSE

The girl Beth was before the apocalypse is hidden now. There is no time to think back to how she would sit around a bonfire with her friends while they drank wine coolers and moonshine. There was no longer Instagram, or Twitter, or the pressure to dress for a perfect balance of sultry and respectable. She had only gotten her first pair of heels the year before, a kitty heel with polished black faux leather.

Beth thoroughly enjoyed creating birthday cards by hand, caring for the animals on the farm and the ones her father would occasionally bring home. She was close with her mother, learning to cook many different kinds of meat and vegetable dishes. She didn’t eat meat herself, but that didn’t often affect her.

Beth loved cornflower blue and pastel pink, and would decorate the borders of her homework with idle doodles. She loved to draw, but rarely pursued this hobby due to having little time. She played sports, none specifically that she excelled at. She stopped playing soccer when she began high school, preferring to spend her free time with her music.

Beth was an average student. She excelled in Music and English, but struggled with Biology and Math. Even before the apocalypse, she had no intention of going to college for further education. She wanted to try and join a singing group with a few of her friends, and failing that, move to a big city to find an agent on her own.

Beth secretly harbored feelings for a boy named Jimmy, who had the sweetest smile and kindest eyes. She wanted to be a mother one day, and hoped (as much as she feared) that Jimmy would be the boy she married. They’d never done more than kissed, but she’d wondered, and wondered often.

Beth played party games like Never Would I Ever, with water instead of booze. She would play in her friend’s pool, have sleepovers, cry on the phone, lament over celebrities. She would count the letters in her name compared to that of her crush’s, and brainstorm names for their children.

Beth loved the zoo, watched movies on Netflix (when her Internet behaved), went on vacations, made cookies at Christmas, and hearts for Valentines’ Day. She lived for the thrill of giving presents, and blushed at every one she received. She never swore in front of her parents, and prayed at church every Sunday.

HC | DEMEANOR

Beth was raised to show the utmost respect to her peers, elders and seniors. Everyone, really. You were to mind your pleases and thank yous, and avoid swearing unless you catch your finger in any of the farm equipment. (Like the time her daddy got his thumb caught in a pair of bolt cutters, eesh, he cussed so much her mom almost didn’t let him back inside.)

If Beth really likes you, and trusts you, she won’t be hesitant to be honest and up front. The sweet, cautious farm girl demeanor falls away to reveal a thoughtful, observant young woman. Her natural demeanor is one of a follower, and a hard worker. She wants to make sure things run smoothly, and will only rule in her domain (such as when she babysits, or if she’s in charge of dinner).

Beth can even be sarcastic, she can be rude, but both those are only if she feels cornered, of if someone isn’t giving her proper respect. (This is especially true during her time with Daryl, where she learns that being open and honest is far better in this new world.)

HC | STATIONARY

Beth is an absolute stationary fiend. Anything cute, shades of pastel, stripes, spots, just cute, and she’s gotta have it. She has an ENDLESS supply of notebooks with matching pens, stickers, post-it notes, ridiculous arrays of paperclips, and goodness knows what else. This started because she wanted to be organised in school, and quickly became a desperate goal of attaining all of the cute things, ever. And she admits, it’s SHAMEFUL, and it’s shallow, but it doesn’t stop her from enjoying the little things. This includes cute masking tape, staples, ANYTHING you can think of.

Not that the contents is equally as cute. She uses this as a form of self-expression, and it is how she processes the world around her. She likes to treat herself in small ways, and sometimes she will buy a notebook with the express intent of writing songs about love, or ex-boyfriends, or fights with her friends. Now that she’s older, she is freer with her language and her wants, and she no longer worries about revealing too much to the diary. Her parents and sister can’t snoop anymore.

HC | MENTAL HEALTH

From a writer standpoint, I wanted to take a moment to write a stream of consciousness regarding Beth, and how she has progressed through the series.

This is not a complete guide, and by no means do I claim to be an expert on mental health. I am going to try and speak in plain terms, and about things I’ve noticed with Beth. I do not claim that what is listed below is consistent with every experience, nor do I believe that any mental illness or disorder should be included into a character for the sake of drama. I hope that I have spoken respectfully about the topic, and feel free to approach me if you feel I have misinterpreted anything.

There are consequences for the events that Beth has experienced, and they have a direct impact on her experience with others, and her reactions. I just wanted a place to work through these, to discuss the effects it has had on her up to and including her return to Grady. I am unlikely to list direct names of illnesses, but I will state that Beth as I play her experienced depression before the outbreak.

…

There has always been an indescribable pang to Beth’s existence. It wavered from low periods, to days of uncertainty and heightened states of awareness. Beth had a very loving and supportive family, and friends, and she was cared for. People respected her, and her bouts of ‘low’ periods, but mainly Beth would self-manage. She would push herself out of the lows, and not let on how incredibly unhappy she felt. Because, she justified to herself, she had no reason to be sad. This logical perspective did not dismiss the idle ‘maybe it’s not even worth it’ thoughts that would crop up.

Beth was active with her church group and her friends, which kept her in the swing of things. She didn’t allow herself to fully acknowledge or feel the lows, and eventually during her time in middle school, around the age of thirteen, this cropped up. Beth had a falling out with her best friend Anna, and that spiraled into a self-destructive attitude. Beth became snappier, a difference from her sunny disposition growing up, and she didn’t know why. She just knew that she was unhappy, at a fundamental level, but there was nothing to blame.

Whether it was the shift in attitude, or the falling out with Anna, Beth was ostracized from her friends. For several months she sat on the outside of everyone else, quiet, unsure. They would speak to her, but they would also intentionally skirt around her. She was still around them, because it was a small town, but there was a mutual understanding that she was acting out, and they couldn’t discern why. Eventually Hershel noticed a dip in her daughter’s mood, and how she was no longer spending time with her friends after school. Beth was reluctant to eat, had lost interest in choir, and ultimately rode off on her horse one night after these facts were pushed.

After a teary conversation, Beth admitted that she just didn’t know what she was doing, or why she was doing it. Annette and Hershel took her to see a psychiatrist named Milly, who specialized in adolescent mental health issues. While not the most severe case she had ever seen, she expressed concern over Beth, and helped her reframe her perspective. Much of Beth’s maturity and confidence in changing and being who you are, not who you were, comes from her brief time with Milly. This, in addition to her family, shaped her into a more mindful and optimistic person.

For a brief time, Beth took antidepressants, and attended sessions once every few months to check her state. She was on a smaller dose of antidepressants as of the outbreak, and her checkup sessions were six months apart. Beth spoke about this with Jimmy, as he had been one of her friends when she’d first had to attend the sessions.

Beth experiences minor anxiety attacks, and constantly has to check herself, and her actions. Aside from her first suicide attempt at the farm, Beth has not taken to anything related to self-harm. She knows it is something she is capable of, and is actively trying to keep herself away from that side of herself. She does not view those who self-harm as weak, and suicide is not weak. It is a tragedy, and it makes her genuinely upset.

Since Grady, Beth has experienced panic attacks. One at the sight of a lollipop, and the way in which it was offered to her. This was caused by the trigger of it, but she is unlikely to succumb to it a second time. It was one of the things she buried deep inside her mind, rather than deal with. The other came at a nightmare, after the wolves attacked. She will frequently wake up, with the sensation of being shot cutting through her head. Primarily anything to do with the smell of blood will trigger her to remember her own wound, but she is usually better at managing this.

Grady prompted a large portion of Beth’s current anxiety and fear, and will often cause her to lock up, but I feel as though Grady needs to have it’s own post.

HC | WE ALL GOT JOBS

Beth volunteered to work in the kitchen after a few weeks within Alexandria. When the group arrived, jobs were quickly handed out. Because of the injury sustained at Grady, and the concern about her time spent in the hospital, they kept her in town. She wasn’t allowed to volunteer for scavenging, and was actively discouraged from pursuing any work that would be too physically demanding.

Due to feeling useless within Alexandria, she sought out Deanna and explained her skills. They decided she could easily work within the kitchen, given that she knew how to properly cure meat. This was a pressing issue, due to the group hunting. It also meant that those who went on runs were better equipped with food that would last, and they could rely on the food prepared in Alexandria.

Once Beth has proven she can be alert and contribute to the runs, she is going to speak with Rick and Deanna about it. She doesn’t want to fall into the same position she was in at the prison, where others fought for her. She wants to prove that she more than what people think she is, a fact that is only exacerbated by the attitudes she experienced in Grady.

Beth’s work in the kitchen primarily centers around making jerky, jam, and other easily preserved goods. She also cooks larger meals which are taken by those who do not have time to cook, or those unable to. She makes stews, casseroles, and works with Carol on other, fancier dishes. She is learning a lot, but much of this was knowledge gained from her mother, Annette.

HC | RESPECT FOR THE DEAD

"Help me take her down.“

"Don’t matter, it’s dead.”

"It does matter.“

Beth doesn’t have pity for the walkers. She knows that it’s kill or be killed when it comes to them, and she won’t hesitate to defend herself. What she cannot (and will not) stand for is people who belittle the walkers, and truss them up into games. This is highlighted at the gold club when she attempts to take down the woman with the sign ‘RICH BITCH’ around her neck.

The walkers were once someone’s friend, family, acquaintance, rival, enemy – they werepeople. Desecrating the walkers for personal amusement is akin to playing with any 'human’ corpse, because that’s what they are. They were all once human, and she despises what the world has devolved into.

The humans who take it upon themselves to toy with and torture walkers for personal amusement are despicable to Beth. In the same vein, people who treat them as human, if not higher, are also of a questionable nature. They are nothing but a threat, a tragedy, and a walking corpse. They aren’t toys or people (not anymore).

Beth will avoid killing them as much as possible, and won’t seek a fight. She will also still refer to them by 'he’ and 'her’, assuming the can tell what gender they are. This links back to her first exposure to the walkers, in the form of her friends and family in the barn. She had been taught they were still people, just sick in the head.

And while Beth knows now there is little chance of returning from the state walkers decay into, she still views them as once human, and deserving of her respect. She will try to calmly, peacefully, put the walker out of it’s misery, and make a note in her diary of another person to pray for.

(Above all, she will protect the group and herself, and would never put a walker above that of a living human being.)

HC | HEARTS AND BUTTONS

Sidenote, both Beth and Lori wear necklaces that feature heart iconography. Lori has her locket, which has Rick’s ring on it until they reunite. It’s a proper locket, closed over, with pictures in it no doubt. It ends up on a dark piece of cloth, rather than the chain. Beth, on the other hand, has two hearts, both outlines of hearts, which begins on a proper fine chain, only to be fixed with a cloth strap looking piece later on, as well as a button.

The addition of a second heart to her necklace, as well as a button made me want to look it up. What’s the significance of the button? One definition I found was; a button can symbolize life. Your life can be closed up or too open. Sometimes for your own protection button up against people that just want to interfere in your life. Given the episodes where her necklace gained the button match up with her development with Daryl, I think this was to show it was time for her to open up. Maybe.

Her fine silver chain and single heart were introduced with her, when she was ignorant of the true epidemic. And the necklace stayed that way until well into season three, and appeared in it’s adapted form by the end of season four. The chain is still present across the back, still integral, but behind her. The dark fabric is wrapped around the hearts, keeping them secure. The button – I really wish I knew who the button came from, or if it just fell off her shirt. But there had to be some significance. You don’t just pick up a button and attach it to your necklace.

(And I haven’t even talked about her bracelets. Unnecessary, but properly from Maggie who went on runs. I’m going to headcanon that each came from a different person, one from Glenn, one from Daryl, one from Maggie. Not all were directly given to her, but were brought back for anyone to grab. Or were they brought back, specifically for her? It was her birthday at some point in S3 and S4. Perhaps they were birthday presents?)

The show uses necklaces throughout it, with Andrea and her sister and the mermaid necklace, with Daryl and the necklace of walker ears, and the 22 necklace that Shane wore. I just find it interesting that there are parralells between Lori and Beth’s jewelry choices. As they both adapt and become stronger, the fine chain transformed into something sturdier, but no less beautiful.

People change. Their accessories reflect that.

HC | FAVORITE THING

The question would have been impossible, once upon a time. Beth had her phone, her laptop, her assortment of heels and finery, and a dozen other bits and pieces she thought she couldn’t live without. All of it had gone up in smoke and flames, the day the walkers had broken through the fences. It went to show you how useless technology was, for all it’s bells and whistles.

Her iPhone was useless; her Macbook AIR was a paperweight; her heels were a liability. Beth looked around in the cell she now lived in, her fingers running along the frame of her bunk. She was fortunate enough to know the people who made the initial runs, and was lucky enough to have bits brought back for her. A locket from Daryl, a book from Glenn, a new pair of sneakers from Maggie, and other things that fleshed out her outfit.

”My favorite thing?” Beth hummed, a mischievous smile always on her lips. She let out a sigh, hands falling to her knees. “Gosh, make it hard why don’t you.” It was then she saw it, tucked into the rungs of the bunk above her. She pried it out with lithe fingers, her index finger playing with the frayed edge of the cover. Beth fell to her tummy now, legs kicked up on her bed.

”Ah bet you’re thinkin’, typical of a girl… Or, or, why a lil’ book? But it’s not what you think. It isn’t all boys n’ school or any of that.” Beth smiled down at the green coated pocket book, the inside cover scrawled with silly phrases. “See, my momma got me this f’Christmas, like she always does. It’s so I could write down my plans, so I could warn her… If I needed to get picked up, from school, or the pool, or church, I could let her know. I was always a bit scatterbrained when it came t’times.”

Beth wiped away a tear, brushing it straight onto the sheets. “See, I forgot about it. I forgot it existed, it was in my school bag from Christmas, t’… Till we ran from the farm. And then through the forests, and through the storage lockers. We didn’t have a proper Christmas last year but — you don’t expect that, not now.” Beth licked her lips, idly dooling in the margins.

”But see, I had written things in it, at the farmhouse, when I wanted — a way out. After m’mom came out of that barn and… Y’know. When things were bad. But I look back to it now, and I just feel better, knowin’ I’ve made it, I’ve changed. I’ve proven myself wrong. And that’s what this book is about.” Beth scratched at the spine of the book like it was a cat keening into her touch.

”Once we cleared the prison, and settled down, I found it again. I didn’t need t’cry anymore, because I knew, like last time, I’d be okay. I wrote in it when the inmates died, Axel, and…” Beth shook her head. “And I wrote in it, when I was feelin’ sad, or lonely, or mad. I didn’t wanna make everyone else suffer f’my problems. Especially ‘cause I was carin’ for Judith, after Lori passed away.”

Beth capped her biro, now sitting up once more. “It’s been good for me. And one day, when I’m old and tellin’ my grandkids about all this, I’ll remember it all. I’ll remember the names of everyone I’ve known, of all their hopes, and dreams, and wishes, ‘cause…” Beth stood up, still cradling the diary. “If you write it down, it’ll come true. Maybe not in this lifetime, but in the sky, in Heaven, they’ll be happy. That’s all I want.”

The blonde wiped at her eyes again, though there were no tears. “Bet y’weren’t looking for me to ramble. That’s why I started the diary. So my mom could see it, in case she’s too busy in Heaven takin’ care of everyone else. She’d be like that, mom… Talkin’ with Lori about how I needa watch myself ‘round boys, while they braid Sophia’s hair. Patricia there, laughing along. Otis cookin’ a barbeque… Jimmy, he’d visit, t’be polite.” Beth let out a laugh, though it didn’t sound at all amused. This was how she coped.

”Don’t tell anyone. I don’t really want them knowin’ I keep a diary. It’s not like that.”

It was her diary, but it had more to it than the name suggested.

HC | BAD JOKES

If Beth sees you frowning for too long, she’ll come over and tell you terrible jokes. Even if you get mad at her, she’ll be happy. Being angry is better than being sad, in her eyes. It means you’re still alive, and still feeling things. It’s also an ideal ice breaker, and a method her choir teacher taught her for making friends with the competition at choir meets.

#; ( hc )#( transferring info )

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