#noah x beth

[niyebex]

I feel like doing a crackpair today.

Cad you go for Noeth (Noah x Beth)?

I don't care how cring it is, I'm very proud of myself for it.

Oh my, the nerds are yapping together!

Okay joke aside, Beth is surprisingly fun to draw and uh sorry for taking so long lmao, I felt like drawing today

[bambidixon]

“She is strong because she is kind and she is kind because she is strong.”

My sweet beautiful girl <3 I miss her sm

[bookiezzz]

Give some amazing headcannons about Noah and Beth unusual friendship for my scrapped AU.

authors’ note: au headcannons.. got it boss

Noah and Beth platonic headcannons

— I think these two being friends probably changes them both a little bit

— I think they could kind of learn a little bit from the other

— If Noah is being an asshole or something to another contestant or even Beth, she would just be like “cut it out”

— And Noah probably mocks her for it but its all pretty lighthearted

— If Noah is actually willing to cooperate, him and Beth both try to plan for challenges!

— And it would work too because I think both of them and all of their qualities together would definitely help to them win challenges

— i’d like to think they hang out sometimes but maybe bring like owen and lindsay.. they’re doing group activity

— The two just kind of gravitate towards each other during conversations

— I think they’d share a similar mindset? Or agree on some things

— They seem like the type to debate whenever talking at all

— And they’ll have long conversations just about certain topics, or their opinions and see what the other thinks.

— People would probably think they seem unlikely to be friends but they actually get along pretty well, and ultimately enjoy each other’s company!

— While on the show, and while off the show, I think they’d still keep in contact, seeing as how they made good friends out of each other while on total drama.

[shimmershaewrites]

Waltzing's for Dreamers, Chapter 13 (a Walking Dead story, Caryl AU).

Title:  Waltzing's for Dreamers

Rating:  PG-13? 

Warnings:  adult language, angst.  Allusions to Carol/Other. 

Characters/Pairings:  Daryl Dixon, T-Dog, Noah, mentions of Beth Greene, Sophia Peletier, Carol Peletier, Merle Dixon, Karen, Enid, mentions of Noah/Beth, Jacqui, Jacqui/T-Dog, past Merle/Karen, past Carol/Daryl, original character. 

  Waltzing’s for Dreamers

    Seven years after Vegas.  Middle of March. 

      His mouth tastes like ass. 

  That’s the first thought that coalesces in Daryl’s sludge-ridden brain when he fights his way back to consciousness.  His mouth tastes like ass—hairy ass—with an undercurrent of Jack and…wait a damn minute.  Just when did he board a fuckin’ Tilt-a-Whirl?  Suddenly finding himself spread-eagled on the rottin’ porch, squinting into the too-bright morning sun and trying to figure out why the kid from his last period is looking at him like he’s a member of the undead, he groans.  Tries to sit up but that just spurs the jackhammer battering against the confines of his skull to maximum and shit.  Is that T kicking at his boots?  Tossing a grease-soaked bag in his general direction with a smile that’s more pitying that anything? 

  “I’d offer you hair of the dog, but…” 

  He opens up the bag and takes an experimental sniff.  Winces when his stomach rolls like he’s trying to surf a ten-story wave with a kid’s piece of shit boogie board and sets the offering aside.  Notices the stray that’s been haunting the place since his first night back lurking in the yard, big brown eyes peering out from beneath an overgrown crepe myrtle bush, and grumbles.  “Man, don’t even.” 

  “Just saying.  You two looked plenty cozy to me,” T says.  His grin a little more genuine as he falls back into his old pattern of trying to wrestle a matching smile from Daryl’s reluctant lips.  “Right, Noah?” 

  The teen smirks.  Ducks his head and mumbles something indecipherable beneath his breath as he wisely leaves the two of them alone. 

  T shakes his head and offers him a hand.  “Kids these days.” 

  Daryl lets him pull him to a sitting position but waves him off from doing anything more.  In response, his old friend plants himself on the porch beside him and with the farmhouse’s weathered wall at their backs and a grove of towering pecan trees beyond the crumbling stone pathway, the tire swing swaying in the breeze, they lapse into a familiar sort of silence.  Just let each other be while they gather up their thoughts because it’s been a long time.  Too damn long.  Eventually, he just has to know.  “How’d you know where to find me?” 

  “Kids these days,” Dog repeats.  “They talk.” 

  “What kids?” Daryl asks, even though he has a pretty good inkling who before the question has fully left his mouth.  The boy?  Noah?  He’s a quiet sort, much like he’d been that age.  Observant.  And the little Greene girl that never strays too far from his side when she can help it?  Well, she ain’t loud exactly.  Not in your face confident like far too many of her little jerk classmates are, but she notices things, too.  Seen his truck coming and going as he passes her daddy’s farm every day.  Talks and knows some people that know some people and they talk, he’s sure.  Which leads him to wonder.  “Carol know?” 

  “That you bought this old place?  Don’t think so.  That you got trashed last night?  Probably, considering the way things went down between you and Soph yesterday.  Those two are tight.  ‘Specially since you…” 

  “Go ‘head.  Say it.  Ain’t like I don’t know I’m an asshole.”  He picks at his thumbnail.  Sighs as he tries to bury the all-too-fresh memory of the words ‘Phia had thrown at him like knives.  It’s an impossible task.  Because even now, he’s bleeding from the cuts.  Don’t know if he can stop the seeping before it becomes a hemorrhage.  Don’t know if he should even try because ultimately?  She’s not wrong.  No matter his reasons—reasons he’d once held to be valid and honorable—he’d still left.  Still broken the promises he’d made and hell.  He don’t want to think about it because all he can picture is her pretty little face.  Fierce and tear-stained as she’d landed gut punch after gut punch and as much as it’d hurt.  As much as it still goddamn hurts, he can’t help but be proud because she’s got her mama’s back just as much as Carol’s got hers and it’s a thing of fuckin’ beauty, those two.  No.  Those three, he reminds himself.  Feeling his throat close up and make it even harder to force the next words out.  “I left.  Abandoned them.  Right to hate me.  Don’t blame ‘em.” 

  “They don’t hate you.” 

  “Do,” he insists.  “Know what she said to me?  I thought you were dead.  I thought you were dead ‘cause no way would my daddy leave me.  How the fuck does she not hate me, Man?” 

  T takes his time answering and he looks just as torn up as Daryl feels.  “Soph.  Carol, too.  They’re hurt.  There’s a difference,” he tells him.  “That woman hated you, she wouldn’t have cared enough to check on you.” 

  “Carol called you?”  Hope flares in his chest.  Instant and bright before it fizzles away because there’s that look again.  The one full of sympathy that looks more like a grimace than anything.  That look told him she cared, yeah.  But not enough to outright refuse another man’s ring.  Put his back on.    

  “Went about it roundabout.  Reached out to your brother.  Then his crusty white ass called me,” T finally admits.

  “Merle?” Daryl scoffs.  Immediately regrets it when the pounding at his temples resumes.  “Merle called you?”   

  “Shocked me, too.” 

  “He’s changed.” 

  “Sounded like it.” 

  “Got himself a girl.  Enid.  Same age as ‘Phia.  Little older.  Real wiseass.”  Something resembling a laugh sneaks past his lips.  “Thought she got it from Merle but Karen ain’t all sugar sweet neither.”    

  “Reckon she wouldn’t be, getting with the likes of Merle,” T-Dog chuckles. 

  “Reckon you’re right,” Daryl admits.  He notices the kid out in the yard, trying to coax the mutt out of its hiding spot and into the open.  Swears beneath his breath and earns himself a frown from the man beside him in the process.  “What?  He makes friends with the damn flea bag, I’ll never get rid of it.” 

  “You feeding it?  Don’t even try to tell me you’re not.  Man, I seen that bag of food in the back of your truck.  You done splurged on the good stuff.  Might as well start thinking up names.” 

  “Pfft.” 

  “Think I’m kidding.” 

  “Stop,” Daryl mutters.  Resting his head back against the wall with a groan.  Letting his gritty eyes drift closed as a hard-fought smile twitches at his lips.  “How you know the kid?” he asks after a while. 

  “Remember Jacqui?” 

  His brow furrows in thought.  Eventually, he nods.  Eyes still shut against the beaming sun.  “Yeah.” 

  “Noah’s her cousin’s boy.  The one that lives up in Virginia?  Anyway.  They’ve been having trouble up there with a gang.  Calls themselves the Wolves.  His mama thought he might have a better chance of it making it down here in sleepy little King County.  She just didn’t figure on him falling into puppy love.  And I’m not talking about your furry friend over there.  Get my drift?” 

  “The little Greene girl?” 

  “Beth,” T confirms.  “Lives down the road a mile or so.  When the kid found out I was coming here, he up and volunteered to tag along.” 

  “Bet,” Daryl remarks.  Fumbling for the forgotten takeout bag when his stomach grumbles.  Pulling out a biscuit and unwrapping it, taking first a small, careful bite.  Then a much bigger bite when his stomach don’t rebel completely.  “Still don’t really explain how you know the kid.  Unless you and Jacqui…”  The shit-eating grin on Dog’s face answers the unasked question for him and he lowers the breakfast sandwich to his lap.  Wraps it and the bag back up and tucks it away for later.  “You and Jacqui?  Really?” 

  “What you mean really?”    

  “Nothing.  Just thought you two were friends.” 

  “We were.  We are.  I’m here to tell you, Man.  Sometimes those old sayings? They’re true.  Friends really do make the best…” 

  “That’s alright,” Daryl cuts him off.  “Get it.  I do.  M’happy for you.” 

  “Thanks.  Appreciate it.  Happy for you, too.”  When that comment earns him a raised brow, he clarifies.  “Happy you came to your senses and finally come home.” 

  “Well,” Daryl mutters as he watches him stand.  Dust off the seat of his pants.  This time when he offers him a hand up, he takes it.  Does the same.  “Might be the only one.” 

  “Don’t do that, Man.” 

  “Do what?”

  “Throw yourself a pity party.  Own your shit.” 

  “Own my shit?” Daryl echoes.  “You don’t even know the half of my shit.” 

  “Doesn’t matter.  Still the only way you’re going to be able to work toward making things right.”  

  He’s right.  Course he is.  Don’t make the words any easier for him to say.  It just isn’t the Dixon way.  So he dips his head in deference.  Casts his gaze to T’s own truck, laden down with all the tools of his trade and an idea starts to form as he looks over the ramshackle old farmhouse.  One that the other man reads all over his face, no words necessary.  Sighs but offers to shake on it all the same.    

  “Gonna take lots of work.  Hard work.  Carol and those kids, though?” 

  “They’re worth fighting for.” 

[yvesminatozaki]

[xkeepxonxsurvivingx-a]

@deadgrlxwalking

“I want to run away Beth, will you come with me?”

[veiwryn]

Rarepairs? I gotcha. Noah x Beth, no question guaranteed, my friend.

NO BUT I CAN SEE THIS. LIKE. S2 Beth's mean streak gaining the respect of Noah and a friendship is born (later relationship) from it.

Not only could they be a powerful duo in terms of quick thinking and craft-making, but they're smart individuals. They would definitely have library and home dates, picking up each other's hobbies and enjoying them too. Like knitting or origami.

Beth was the main contributor when she made a bouquet of knitted flowers, and Noah retaliated with making an origami bouquet in return. They end up teaching each other the crafts, Noah learning how to make a knit version of his dog, and Beth learning how to make small figures (or maybe a dragon, just something cool).

They are very underrated, and I would love more of them too, Anon!

[thatsnicadenic]

*climbs through the window*

Noah and Beth because no context needed, whatsoever.

*leaves you a bag of potato chips and a glass of chocolate milk, then climbs back out from the window*

“I told them the Chicken Perfume worked!”

“Yeah, coz that’s what attracted me to you…”

Thank you for the offering, Anon, I’m only sorry this came so late 😅 hopefully the chocolate milk didn’t spoil…

Anyway, uh… Hello TD Fandom :] am not dead!