#and lydia carrying clothes around for her!!!

[girlbeyondthegrave]

The Parallels Between Astrid and Lydia and What They Say About Beetlebabes: A Metaphorical Interpretation of the Final Dream Sequence

I previously made a post where I wrote about my interpretation of the dream sequence being inspired by Lydia and Astrid’s literal futures following the film, but after reading @theblacklistforever97 ‘s metaphorical interpretation of the final scene, I wanted to explore what messages Burton may be trying to convey. I think that we can find a strong message when we look at how Astrid’s time in the film parallels her mother’s experiences as a teenager.

The main takeaway from the linked post is that dream sequences often reveal the inner desires of characters, but I think that the parallels between mother and daughter can, too.

As teenagers, both characters are strange and unusual in their own rights. Lydia is iconically goth and melancholy with fascinations with death and photography, while Astrid reads classic Russian literature and wears edgy clothing. Both are shown to not fit in with people that are considered “normal.” Yet they want to feel embraced and have someone truly see them.

Lydia’s family writes her off as weird, and when she starts to bond with the Maitlands, they vanish for three months. She feels used after the incident at dinner.

As soon as Beetlejuice looks at her, he’s interested. His full attention is on her. He says she looked like someone he can relate to, and when Lydia basically says she wants to die, he’s genuinely taken aback. He doesn’t have to offer to talk about that with her, but he does. Beetlejuice genuinely values Lydia’s life, and he wants her to live it. There’s also no mention of marriage during that first encounter. He just wants Lydia to let him out—no mentions of being out permanently either.

But in their next encounter, Beetlejuice wants out for good, and he chooses Lydia to be tethered to in marriage. He’s downright gleeful when she talks to him again. It’s entirely possible that Beetlejuice only wanted to be out permanently after he met Lydia, and he’s enamored with her. We know now that he’s gone 600 years without romantic love, and that reframes his eagerness to marry her. He’s been carrying that ring around for hundreds of years, and he finally found someone he thinks is worthy of having it.

People could argue that Beetlejuice was using Lydia and had no real romantic interest in her, but after the sequel, there’s no denying that he has sincere feelings for Lydia. I detail a lot of his and Lydia’s moments in a separate post, but TLDR: Beetlejuice calls Lydia the love of his life and waits for her. He absolutely adores this woman, and he just wants to be with her.

Astrid’s relationship with Jeremy serves as a foil to Lydia and Beetlejuice’s. Jeremy feigns interest in Astrid to manipulate her into trusting him. He values her life only in the sense that he wants to take it for himself. He appeals to her desire for someone to understand her, but it’s not genuine. He lies about the incantation and uses Astrid’s desire for closure regarding her father to get what he wants. He had no intentions of being with Astrid; just using her for his own gain.

There’s only one man who behaves similarly to Jeremy in the film, and it’s not Beetlejuice—it’s Rory. While Jeremy wants to literally take control of Astrid’s life, Rory figuratively controls Lydia’s. He guilts her, he manipulates her, and Lydia has lost a lot of the spunk and fire she had as a teenager. Rory appeals to her emotions just like Jeremy does with Astrid so he can reach his own goals. He doesn’t believe in Lydia, doesn’t listen to her. It’s all an act to get to her money, just like Jeremy pretends to be the caring living boy to get Astrid to sign her life away.

If we look at the dream sequence metaphorically, the parallels between Astrid and Lydia make a solid case that Astrid is meant to reflect Lydia’s inner desires. Dream Astrid meets someone that matches her eccentric energy, who truly sees her, and they get to live happily ever after. Let’s also note that the boy is wearing a vampire costume, a monster that’s known for invoking fear, yet that’s the moment that captivates Dream Astrid. And even when a monstrous BabyJuice pops out of her, she smiles and accepts him as her own.

Beetlejuice sends a clear message here: if Lydia wants to feel fully seen and appreciated, she needs to find someone that matches her energy. He wants to be that someone, and he’s proven that his affections are far more genuine than Rory’s. He’s already accepted her, but she needs to accept him, too. He truly believes that if she can accept the connection they have, he will make her happy.

[slutty-transformation-stories]

Bimbocaine Part 2

Lydia's eyes narrowed as she studied the pouch of pink powder she had found in her friend's abandoned apartment. It was an unusual artifact amidst the clutter of forgotten textbooks and half-used makeup products. The material felt foreign to her, almost alive, as it shifted in her palm. She had brought it to the university's science lab, eager to understand the mystery it held.

Her curiosity piqued, Lydia carefully poured a small amount onto a slide. She had to admit, the color was quite lovely—like the inside of a seashell or a delicate shade of bubblegum. The fine, shimmering particles danced under the fluorescent lights as she carried the slide over to the microscope. The anticipation of discovery made her heart flutter, a sensation she hadn't felt in a long time.

Just as she was about to peer into the eyepiece, the lab door swung open, and a gaggle of her eager students spilled in. They surrounded her, bombarding her with questions about the upcoming exam and their latest projects. She held up a hand, the slide still in her other, and tried to explain that she was busy, but they were having none of it.

One particularly clumsy student named Jenna reached out to touch the pouch, her eyes wide with curiosity. "What's that, Professor?" she asked, her voice a high-pitched squeal that seemed to echo through the room.

Lydia sighed, but before she could respond, the pouch slipped from Jenna's grasp and hit the floor with a soft thud. The seal gave way, and a cloud of pink glittery smoke erupted, enveloping the entire room. The students shrieked, and Lydia's heart skipped a beat as she realized what had just happened. The smoke smelled faintly of strawberries and vanilla, a scent that seemed to tickle her nostrils and make her head swim.

As the cloud began to dissipate, she noticed something peculiar. Each of the girls, one by one, started to transform. Their breasts ballooned to impossible sizes, pushing against their shirts like overfilled water balloons. Their asses inflated, stretching their pants until the fabric looked ready to tear. Their hair grew longer, a cascade of platinum blonde waves that flowed down their backs like a river of spun silk.

Their nails grew at an alarming rate, turning into sharp talons that clicked against the lab benches as they moved. Their faces took on a bitchy perfection, their lips curling into a perpetual snarl that seemed to dare the world to mess with them. The transformation was as mesmerizing as it was disturbing, and Lydia could do nothing but watch in shocked silence.

As the pink haze cleared, she looked down at her own body and felt a strange sensation. Her own breasts began to swell, pushing against her lab coat, and she gasped as her hips widened and her waist cinched in. Her reflection in the gleaming microscope showed a woman she hardly recognized: her once-professional attire now clung to a figure that was the epitome of a bimbo's dream. She felt lighter, more... confident, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders and replaced with a newfound sense of allure.

The giggles from her students grew louder, and she realized that they were all going through the same metamorphosis. They stumbled around the room, their eyes wide with excitement and disbelief as they examined their new figures in the glass panels of the lab cabinets. Each of them was now a mirror image of the other—platinum blondes with hourglass shapes that defied logic and gravity.

The room was filled with the sound of zippers being yanked down and buttons popping off as they struggled to free themselves from their suddenly-too-small clothing. The fabric tore away, revealing skin that gleamed with a glossy sheen under the harsh lights. The pink smoke had left a faint sparkle on their bodies, making them look as if they were dusted with the finest glitter.

Their laughter grew more manic, each giggle escalating into a full-throated cackle that echoed through the lab. The air was thick with a cocktail of the strawberry-vanilla scent and the heady perfume of their newfound sexuality. It was intoxicating, and even Lydia found herself smiling as she watched the young women prance around, their movements now more seductive than she had ever seen.

With a collective decision that seemed to resonate through the air, the group of busty bimbos made their way out of the lab and towards the university's exit. The hallways were a blur of pink smoke and glittery footsteps as they sashayed down the corridor, leaving a trail of bewildered onlookers in their wake. The transformation was complete, and the need to show off their new selves was palpable. They were drawn to the mall like moths to a flame, each step carrying them closer to a place where they could truly embrace their newfound bitchiness.

Once at the mall, they descended upon the first cosmetic counter they saw. The poor salesgirls didn't stand a chance against the onslaught of glammed-up scientists. They demanded the works: smoky eyes, lush lashes, and lips painted a shade of pink that matched the powder's explosive origin. The once-studious young women now moved with the grace of seasoned models, their hips swaying as they discussed the merits of different foundations and eyeliners.

Each bimbo picked out an outfit that screamed "look at me" from the racks of a high-end boutique. The clothes were tight and revealing, leaving little to the imagination. They paraded around in their new attire, their every move calculated to attract the maximum amount of male attention. And it worked. Heads turned, jaws dropped, and whispers followed them as they strutted down the mall's gleaming corridors.

Their transformations were complete, and they reveled in the power of their newfound sexuality. They were like a pack of lionesses on the prowl, each one more stunning than the last. Lydia felt a strange kinship with these young women she had once taught, now her sisters in glamour.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, they turned their sights to the club, a place that had once been a bastion of their youthful innocence. Now, it beckoned to them like a siren's call, promising a night of indulgence and debauchery. The bouncer's eyes widened as he took in the spectacle of six busty blondes dressed to kill, and with a nod of his head, they were granted entry without a second glance.

Inside, the bass thumped like a heartbeat, and strobe lights painted the walls in a chaotic dance of color. The air was thick with the scent of cologne and cheap perfume, a stark contrast to the delicate fragrance of strawberries and vanilla that lingered on their skin. The crowd parted for them like the Red Sea, all eyes drawn to their voluptuous figures and the aura of confidence that surrounded them like an invisible force field.

The club was a candy-coated wonderland of temptation, and they were the sweetest treat on display. The bartender, a young man with spiked hair and a smug smile, couldn't resist the allure of their new forms. He slipped them drinks, each one a little stronger than the last, and they giggled and flirted in return. Their laughter was like a siren song, drawing in a flock of eager men, all eager to taste the sweetness they exuded.

The first to approach was a businessman in a tailored suit, his eyes glazed over with a mix of lust and bewilderment. He stumbled over his words as he tried to charm them, his hand lingering a bit too long on Lydia's newly rounded hip. She felt a thrill at the touch, the fabric of her dress sticking to her skin as his hand slid away. The other girls were similarly accosted, each man's grip a little more daring than the last.

A beautiful blonde bimbo at the back of the club caught their attention, her outfit even more outrageous than their own. She beckoned them over with a wave of her hand, her nails glinting like diamonds in the disco lights. As they approached, Lydia noticed the name tag on her glittery top—it read "Barbie." The woman's smile was wide and welcoming, a knowing twinkle in her eyes that sent a shiver down Lydia's spine.

It was Anna, her friend from university who had once been a brooding goth with a penchant for dark poetry and a love for the macabre. The transformation was unmistakable yet unsettling. Anna's raven locks had been replaced with the same platinum waves as the rest of them, and her once solemn demeanor was now a caricature of cheerfulness.

"Welcome, my fellow bimbos," Anna purred, her voice now a breathy whisper that seemed to float on the air. "You're just in time for the main event."

Her words sent a ripple of excitement through the group. They huddled closer, eager to hear what she had to say. Anna leaned in, her massive breasts threatening to spill out of her tight dress as she whispered the details of their new lives. It seemed that the pink powder was not just a one-time transformation but a gateway to a world where beauty and brains were a potent cocktail of power.

Lydia felt a twinge of doubt, but it was quickly drowned out by the pulsing music and the electric energy of the club. The pink smoke had not only changed their appearances but also their personalities. They were no longer the shy, studious girls they once were. They had become creatures of the night, hungry for attention and validation from the men around them.

The night passed in a blur of flashing lights and groping hands. Each bimbo took turns disappearing into the crowded bathroom, returning with flushed cheeks and swollen lips. The scent of cheap cologne and sex hung heavy in the air, mingling with the sugary sweetness of the pink dust that still clung to them.

Lydia found herself in a dimly lit corner with a man who couldn't keep his hands off her new, voluptuous body. His touch was rough, but she didn't mind. It was as if she had been waiting for this moment her entire life. The feel of his calloused fingers on her skin sent shockwaves of pleasure through her. She leaned into his touch, her body moving instinctively to the rhythm of the music.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Jenna, who had found a partner of her own. The young man looked like he had just won the lottery as he struggled to contain his excitement, his eyes ogling her newfound assets. Jenna giggled, her voice now a sultry purr that seemed to ooze confidence and sexuality. She leaned in close to Lydia, whispering into her ear, "Let's go, I know just the place."

The group of bimbos followed Jenna, their hips swaying in unison like a line of synchronized swimmers. The music grew louder, the lights brighter, and the men more brazen. Each girl was claimed by a different suitor, and they disappeared into the throbbing mass of bodies like droplets of water in a storm. Lydia felt a strange mix of excitement and trepidation as she was led away by her chosen man.

In the cramped backseat of a sports car, Lydia's mind raced. This wasn't her usual scene—far from it. But as the man's hand found her thigh, she couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement. His touch was firm, possessive, and she found herself leaning into it. The pink dust had transformed her into someone new, someone who didn't need to think about the consequences of her actions.

The car pulled up to a sleek, modern mansion that looked like it had been plucked from the pages of a high-fashion magazine. The party inside was already in full swing, a cacophony of laughter and bass that vibrated through the walls. The air was thick with the scent of wealth and desire, and as they stepped out of the car, the other bimbos were immediately drawn to it.

They strutted up the driveway, their heels clicking like a chorus line of dominatrixes. The door swung open, revealing a grand foyer with a sweeping staircase that beckoned them to ascend into the heart of the debauchery. They were greeted by a sea of men in suits, their eyes devouring the bimbos like hungry wolves spotting fresh prey.

The mansion was a playground of opulence, each room more decadent than the last. Red velvet couches, gleaming chandeliers, and walls lined with gold-framed mirrors reflected the pink glow of their skin. It was a place where inhibitions were left at the door, and the only currency was beauty and desire.

Lydia and her bimbo entourage were led upstairs to a suite that looked like a set from a music video. A king-sized bed, big enough to accommodate their inflated forms, sat in the center, surrounded by plush pillows and silk sheets. A bottle of champagne chilled in an ice bucket, and the air was heavy with the scent of more pink dust, hinting at the night's true intentions.

The man who had claimed her wasted no time, his hands roaming her new body with a sense of entitlement that sent a shiver of excitement down her spine. His touch was rough, his intentions clear, but she found herself craving the validation it brought. The other couples paired off around the room, the sounds of passion and pleasure rising like a symphony of lust.

The bimbos were in their element, their every move calculated to ensnare the men around them. The mansion was a fortress of sin, each room a testament to the power of their newfound sexuality. They were the queens of this domain, and the men were their willing subjects.

As the night progressed, the transformations grew more pronounced. The pink dust had not only altered their physical forms but had also imbued them with an irresistible allure that seemed to corrupt everyone they touched. The men who had brought them here were now under their spell, eager to do their bidding, to give them anything they desired.

The next morning, the bimbos woke up feeling more alive than ever. They looked at themselves in the mirrors that adorned the walls of the suite, admiring their new figures and the glint of power in their eyes. The town was their oyster, and they were the pearls inside, ready to be discovered.

[thevegandarkelf]

Taken Care Of

18+, MINORS DNI

Masterlist

AO3 link

This oneshot features my OC Lydia Vector (from my story 'Finding Myself, Finding You') & Daryl Dixon (TWD) after they've officially gotten together. I was going to wait until I had posted all the chapters of it to post this, but it's getting too difficult to restrain myself. It isn't necessary to read the story beforehand, but some things from it will be referenced in this piece. If you love smut with fluff, feelsy smut (as someone on AO3 called this), and Daryl being a massive softie for his partner, then this one's for you.

Lydia/Vec/Vector (she goes by all of those) (c) me, TheVeganDarkElf

As their relationship continues to strengthen, Lydia & Daryl begin exploring things in the bedroom. After many trials and tribulations, Lydia finally feels she's ready to take things all the way.

This is my first time ever writing smut, so please go easy on me. Constructive criticism is appreciated (emphasis on constructive), but please be gentle or I'll cry.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x OC

Era: Alexandria, pre-Saviors

Word count: 7.3k

TW: referenced/mention of/allusion to sexual trauma, mention of panic attacks

CWs: swearing, smut (duh), oral sex (female receiving), p in v with protection (wrap it before you tap it my friends), gentle sex, Daryl losing his p in v virginity, dirty talk, praise kink, body worship (maybe? idk?), grinding, hand job (sort of), nipple stuff, a lil' bit of post-orgasm crying from our girl. Let me know if I forgot any!

“You’re practically drooling, Vec,” Rosita laughed, snapping her fingers in front of my face.

“Hmm?” I was only half-present in my response.

“Leave her,” Maggie giggled, “she’s off in her own little world.”

Winter had come to Alexandria, gracing our presence with its ice-cold temperatures and early sunsets. Snow hadn’t fallen yet this season, but it was certainly getting cold enough to do so. I had to break out some jeans and long sleeves, packing away my usual attire of shorts and sports bras for the next few months. Rosita, Maggie and I were sat on the front porch of Maggie & Glenn’s place. Rosita and Maggie had taken the opportunity to have some wine, saying they needed a way to warm themselves from the inside due to the cold. I skipped the alcohol, opting to warm myself with some tea instead. That and Daryl’s leather jacket. Even when he hadn’t been wearing it, his jacket still carried his warmth like it was storing it just for me.

When he was getting ready, I’d tried to convince him to put on his jacket, but he insisted I wear it, telling me he would be fine with a couple of flannels and his poncho. I believed him, as the layers combined with how warm he was all the time would surely keep him nice and toasty, but I also knew his weakness was seeing me in his clothes. That was further corroborated by how handsy he’d been that morning.

He was covering gate duty for the day, his crossbow locked and loaded in his arms, ready to take out anyone or anything that came too close. I was watching him, my mouth slightly agape, dissociating as the corners upturned into a small, delirious smile. There was nothing special or different about his appearance today, but he was looking particularly handsome.

I could’ve been ovulating, but I was down so bad for that man, I didn’t need to be ovulating to be drooling over him.

Rosita pretended to pick something up off the porch and held her hand out to me, palm up, the invisible object resting on it. “Here, I picked your jaw up off the floor for you. You’ll probably want it back. Y’know, so you can use it later.”

“Rosita, please. How many times do I have to tell you that your voice carries?” I snapped.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” she teased, chuckling softly and taking a sip of her drink.

“You’re one to talk,” I sassed, “your mind practically lives in the gutter.”

“Let her ogle her man,” Maggie retorted. She swirled her wine glass in her hand, the red liquid spiraling up around the sides and nearly spilling over the edge, before taking a sip. “How are things with you two anyway?”

“Fantastic. It’s…it’s like a dream being with him,” I gushed. My eyes fell to my notebook, and the blood was rushing to my cheeks before I had even finished my sentence.

Daryl and I had been official for a few months now, probably four if I had to guess, though no one around here religiously kept track of dates. He treated me like a queen, doting on me despite any sort of little pushback I gave. I was Miss “I’m hyper-independent, let me do it myself,” and I’d met my Mr. “I know you can, but sit down and let me.” And I won’t lie, it had me weak. He was a goddamn angel. I got to wake up next to him each morning and fall asleep next to him each night. Daryl was perfect in every way. Being with him was perfect in every day.

“Still haven’t figured out how to stop blushing, I see,” she laughed. A small smile crossed my lips, and a breathy laugh escaped my nose.

“Daryl thinks it’s cute,” I replied, craning my head in her direction, “doesn’t exactly incentivize me to want to stop.”

There was a tension that hung in the air as Maggie began to ask me her next question. “So…have you...ummm—“

That tension was quickly cut by the sharp knife that was Rosita Espinosa. “How’s the sex?”

“Rosita!” Maggie & I gasped in unison. I gently whacked her arm with my notebook.

“I am not giving you any details about that,” I huffed. My cheeks were quickly turning red once again.

“I told you she wasn’t going to share anything,” Maggie whined, leaning back to talk to Rosita behind me.

I looked back and forth between them before burying myself back in my notebook. “I can’t believe you two.”

Even if I wanted to, truthfully, there wasn’t a whole lot to share.

Our sex life was a journey for the both of us. Daryl was a virgin before we began being intimate. I had given him a crash course in sex ed prior, as the little knowledge he did have about women came from his brother. And frankly, it was horribly inaccurate. Daryl said Merle was degrading when he talked about women, only discussing them in the context of sex and how it was for him. Couldn’t say I was surprised that he never bothered to try to teach Daryl how to please a woman. That didn’t matter to me though. Not having experience in pleasing women meant I got to teach him everything from pleasure points to dirty talk to my praise kink. And Christ, he was a quick learner.

It took some time for him to get confident in the dirty talk department, but he’d quickly mastered that skill once he saw how I responded to it. I had no issues going down on him. Getting comfortable with him going down on me took a bit more work, but he was nothing short of patient and understanding. Early on in that journey, there were times where I’d ask him to talk me through what he was doing, such as telling me where he was going to place his hand before doing so. That didn’t leave any room for surprises, and since I found his voice relaxing, there was a soothing aspect to it too. At first, I was worried he might find it silly, but he never did, Not once. More than anything, he was flattered that I found his voice comforting enough that I wanted to listen to it in our most intimate moments. We’d never gone all the way, but we’d come close a few times.

It had been a few weeks since we last tried, and I’d decided today was the day I was going to tell him I wanted to try again.

I’d been hyping myself up all day, even picking out a matching bra and panty set for later to boost my confidence. If you know, you know. I so badly wanted to experience him in that way. It was almost difficult to put into words how much my body craved him, ached to feel him in the most intimate way. But my brain always had to rear its ugly head and ruin it. It was simply doing its job—trying to protect me from the trauma that lied deep within the recesses of my mind. I couldn’t be too mad at that. My body tingled with nervous energy—excited nerves, anxious nerves, anticipatory nerves—and despite the butterflies in my stomach, I had a good feeling about this one.

“I’m sorry,” Rosita apologized, “I shouldn’t have brought it up. Or at least not been so crass about it.” I peered up at her over the brim of my glasses before adjusting them on my nose.

”I’m sorry too. We just want to know you’re…being taken care of,” Maggie assured.

I chuckled softly. Being taken care of…what a cute euphemism, I thought.

“You both know I can’t stay mad at you.” I looked up and watched Daryl as I continued. “It’s nothing personal, of course. It’s just…it would feel wrong to share details. I know he doesn’t talk about me like that. It wouldn’t feel right to do it to him.”

“We won’t bring it up again,” Maggie promised. She leaned back again, craning her neck to look around me. “Right, Rosita?”

She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Right.”

“I won’t give you nitty gritty details, but I can assure you I’m being taken care of.” I smiled as Daryl turned in my direction, giving me a little nod. “That’s all you’re gonna get.”

I spent some more time with Rosita and Maggie before going home, gathering my notebook and tumbler and walking down the dirt path with an extra pep in my step. I wanted to get home before Daryl so I could get changed and spend some more time hyping myself up. Letting myself inside, I kicked my boots off and went upstairs, eager to change into the cute lingerie set I’d picked out. It was one I’d gotten months ago on a department store run, one that Daryl hadn’t seen yet. One that I’d been saving for a special occasion such as this.

I took the set out of my drawer and quickly undressed, tossing my clothes blindly behind me into some far corner of the bedroom. He could be home at any time, and I wanted to be ready, as well as be able to have some time to myself. I took one of Daryl’s black flannels and tossed it on, leaving it unbuttoned to show off my lingerie. I’d chosen a matching black set, the cups on the bra and the cheeky panties made entirely out of lace. My sternum tattoo peaked out from underneath, the blue flowers adding a pop of color to my dark attire. I adjusted my breasts in the cups, careful not to let my nails snag and tear the delicate fabric. I fidgeted with the straps to make it as comfortable as possible. I wore a 34B, so I met the criteria to join the itty bitty titty committee. My smaller chest had always been an insecurity of mine. I had a smaller frame, so my smaller breasts and butt looked proportionate on me. However, even I couldn’t escape the pre-apocalypse pressure of women’s beauty standards. Daryl didn’t care though. He didn’t care what size my itty bitty titties were or how big or small my butt was. He loved every square inch of me. Plus, he was just happy to be able to see me naked. I chuckled softly to myself as I recalled the first time Daryl saw my bare chest.

“Why ya got your eyes covered?” he’d asked as I approached him, topless and with my face buried in my hands.

“I don’t wanna see the look on your face when you don’t like what you see,” I said, my voice muffled by my hands and my cheeks quickly growing hot. I’d stopped in the hall and waited, anxious wiggling my toes as I heard him step closer. I could hear him laughing softly and feel him eyeing my bare breasts.

“Damn girl, ya got a nice rack,” he replied in an attempt to make me giggle. His hands fell to my hips and pulled my body against his before they wandered up to my hands, removing them from my eyes. I blinked them open, my baby blues meeting his for a brief moment before he kissed me, soft and tender, just like he always did. “Don’t got nothin’ to be shy ‘bout. You’re perfect.”

I fluffed my hair in the mirror, sweeping my bangs out of my eyes and running my fingers along my scalp. I smiled softly and did a few twirls, the hem of Daryl’s flannel flowing around my hips. The outfit was already boasting my confidence, and I knew Daryl was going to love it. He adored lace on me, and that combined with me wearing his shirt was going to drive him wild. I stepped around to the nightstand on my side of the bed and pulled the drawer open, checking to make sure there were still condoms inside, which there were. I rubbed my arms with my hands to try to keep warm. I could’ve put some pants on or threw a blanket around myself, but I wanted my lingerie to be on full display the second Daryl walked through the door. Plus, I’d be wrapped up in his warmth soon enough.

I was filled to the brim with nerves, both good and bad. Of course I was anxious. This would be a new step for us, a step we’d tried to make several times before. Unfortunately, my trauma always got in the way. But I was also excited. Excited to break boundaries, excited to slide into bed and be pleased by him in a new way. Excited to feel him in the way my body had been craving for months.

I heard the familiar creaking of the front door hinges, followed by the sound of Daryl’s bow clattering on the floor. I looked in the mirror and took one last deep breath before walking out. I rounded the corner from our bedroom and stepped out into the hall. The cold winter air that blew inside when he came in had quickly chilled the entire front of the house, the now icy wooden floor shocking my bare feet. I did my best to ignore the feeling.

“Hey handsome. Glad to see you home,” I called out as I made my way down the stairs. He kicked his boots off and turned around, the annoyed look on his face quickly turning into a flirty smirk as he laid his eyes on me. He folded his arms across his chest as he eyed me up and down.

“Lydia Rae, get your sweet ass over here,” he ordered. I skipped over to him, and he picked me up by the waist, spinning us around as he kissed me.

“I told you you’re not allowed to call me that,” I whined as he set me down. My arms remained draped around his neck, playing with the tag inside his shirt.

“Not unless ya’s in trouble.”

“Well what am I in trouble for?”

“For lookin’ so damn good.” His hands wandered down to my hips, his fingers fiddling with the sheer fabric of my panties. “This new?”

“Not new, no. I got this months ago. I’ve been saving it,” I explained. I dropped my eyes to the floor, wiggling my toes once again and scratching the side of my thumb with my index finger behind his head. I was already turning red. “Could we talk?”

“‘Course. What’s goin’ on?” he asked. My arms fell from around his neck to his chest, playing with the buttons on his shirt as I often did when I was nervous. “Ya doin’ okay?”

“I’m okay,” I assured. I bit at the inside of my bottom lip. I was brimming with excitement, but the anxiety had my vocal cords in a chokehold. “I, umm…” I sighed and buried my face in his chest. “Shit,” I said under my breath.

Daryl kissed the top of my head and buried his nose in my hair, snaking his arms further around my hips to pull me closer. “Ain’t a mind reader. Gotta tell me what’s goin’ on in that pretty little head o’ yours.”

“Fuck, this is harder than I thought.” I ran my hands through my hair, taking a deep breath as I did. I closed my eyes and let the words trickle off my tongue before my nerves could stop me. “I, umm…I think I wanna try again. No, sorry, not think. There’s no uncertainty. I wanna try again.”

There were a few beats of silence between that only lasted seconds, but in my mind, they lasted hours.

“Ya sure? Last time was…ya weren’t doin’ so good after that one,” he reminded.

He was right. Granted, every attempt had been similar to the last one, where I was left having a panic attack over who knows what trigger. But I’d done a lot of work on myself in the last couple of weeks, making sure there were no doubts in my mind about being ready.

“I’m sure.” I leaned my head up and kissed his cheek, which was quickly growing hot under my lips. “Very sure, baby. I’ve sat on it for weeks.” ‘Baby’ had become a pet name we only used to indicate to the other person we were in the mood & in the bedroom. 

He eyed me up and down again, his gaze lingering on the junction of my thighs. He’d seen me naked countless times now, but I still found my cheeks turning pink when he looked at me with lust in his eyes. As he closed the space between us again, he pulled my body firmly against his, encapsulating me in his warmth.

His tongue tickled my lips, silently seeking permission to enter. I parted my lips slightly, and our tongues tangled as his hands pulled at his shirt that hugged my body. I lowered my arms to allow it to fall to the floor, quickly bringing my hands back and tangling my fingers in his hair, tugging gently at his chocolate locks. My heart was pounding, the vibrations it sent through my chest radiating across my entire body. The butterflies in my stomach were working overtime. A soft moan escaped me, and he pulled away, gently nibbling my bottom lip as an amused chuckle trickled off his.

“We got condoms?”

“Already checked.”

“Then let’s get somewhere more comfortable.” He picked me up by the waist and held me close, coaxing me to wrap my legs around him. I draped my arms around his neck and continued to play with his hair, the faint scent of our coconut shampoo a sexy juxtaposition to his rugged appearance.

“Daryl Dixon, don’t you dare drop me,” I laughed as he took us upstairs.

“Ain’t ever dropped ya ‘fore, have I?”

We were hardly in the bedroom door before his lips crashed into mine again. Despite the cold, there was already a light sheen of sweat forming on his skin. Those familiar electric sparks tickled my skin, and I smiled into our kiss, remembering the first time I felt those sparks, back when we first met & I walked out of my bedroom door past him, our arms brushing ever so slightly as I did. If only me then could see us now.

He sat back on the bed, laying down and propping me on his pelvis to straddle him. I snickered as pressure built up underneath me. His erection was already begging to be freed from the confines of his pants.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing,” I giggled, trailing a finger down the buttons of his flannel, drawing little shapes and slowing down as I got lower, “you just get turned on really easily.”

“You’re one to talk,” he teased.

“I mean, look at yourself. Can you blame me?” I tried to lean down to kiss him, but he dug his work-worn fingers into the flesh of my hips to pull me back.

“Just wanna look at ya for a sec.” He held my hips in place with his firm grip, and the pink of my cheeks quickly turned to a rosy red as his cock continued to rise under me, coming in contact with my core. I bit my lip and averted my gaze. Even after all this time, it was nearly impossible to keep eye contact with Daryl when I was blushing. His eyes trailed up to my breasts, and I gathered my hair out of the way to allow him to get a better look. He was devouring every square inch of me with his eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Ya change your mind, just say the word,” he reassured. He drew little circles on the front of my hip bones with his thumbs. The tone in his voice shifted to a more serious one as his gaze met mine. “I mean it. Ain’t gonna upset me at all. Don’t want ya pushin’ yourself just so’s I can get my rocks off.”

“I know. I won’t push myself, I promise.”

He pulled me down to his level, our tongues meeting once again. My panties were already soaked, wetness seeping through and coating his jeans as I grinded against him. Hitched, grunt-like moans escaped him, which only turned me on further. Daryl knew how much I loved when he was vocal in bed.

As I continued to straddle him, his hands found my bra clasp, unhooking it with one swift motion and allowing my breasts to fall free. I pulled away just long enough to slide the dainty fabric off and blindly throw it somewhere in the room. I began working at the buttons on his shirt, caressing his chest as I traveled south.

“Shit,” he moaned as I tossed my head back and shook my hair out. He gripped my hips again and rolled us over, pushing me onto my back and pressing his weight onto me. His mouth fell to the sweet spot on my neck, first leaving open-mouthed kisses, then licking and softly nibbling. A series of moans interlaced with soft giggles rolled off my tongue.

When we first began being intimate, him putting his weight on me used to be a big trigger of mine. Now, there was a safety in being underneath him, being protected by him when I was at my most vulnerable. I loved the feeling of his weight on me, and even in the most sensual contexts, it brought back those butterflies I used to get when we were getting to know each other.

His hands kneaded my breasts, his thumbs tweaking my nipples and eliciting little gasps from me. I squeezed my eyes shut, taking in every sensory experience, small waves of pleasure beginning to wash over me. I continued to blindly work at his shirt, which was almost completely unbuttoned now. I wondered if he could feel my heartbeat with how hard and fast it was pounding.

Daryl trailed kisses down my neck to my chest, tracing little shapes with his tongue down to my breast. My head fell back on the bed, eyes squeezed shut and gritting my teeth as he flicked and sucked and licked the supple tissue.

“Goddamnit,” I groaned. I frantically tugged at his shirt, and he pulled away just long enough to rip it off and throw it over his shoulder before focusing his mouth back where it belonged.

He planted sloppy kisses along my sternum tattoo, leaving a light sheen of saliva behind, as if he was marking his territory. As he came back to kiss me, he put his weight on me again,

grinding his clothed cock on my core to the rhythm of his tongue swirling in my mouth.

I had to restrain myself from digging my nails into his back, as I worried the sensation might be too smilier to what caused his scars. I gripped onto the bedsheets for dear life, balling it in my fists with such force, I was sure my nails would tear right through them. The friction of his jeans against my clit was euphoric.

“Oh…God…fuck, yes.”

He chuckled and dropped his head to my neck, his soft lips and gruff voice tickling my ear like a feather as he talked. “Ya like that?”

“God yes,” I replied through gritted teeth, “don’t stop.”

He was rock hard, his erection pleading to be freed from its prison with each pass over my most sensitive area. He was practically throbbing in his jeans as he continued to grind into me, and feeling him twitch, knowing I was the one making him feel this good, only brought me closer to release.

“Shit.” His strained groaning in my ear sent tingles through my core.

“Ok…ok, that’s enough.” I tapped on his shoulder, indicating for him to stop. He did so immediately, panting in an attempt to catch his breath. As much as I was enjoying the feeling, I didn’t want to come just yet.

Daryl brushed some strands of hair out of my eyes and kissed my cheek. “Ya doin’ alright?” Even when he was in the throes of pleasure, Daryl always checked in with me throughout our intimate escapades, making sure I was comfortable.

“I’m great.” I lightly panted and nodded. “But you know what would make me feel even better?”

“What’s that?”

“If you put that skilled tongue of yours to use elsewhere.” The sexiest smirk I’d ever seen crossed his lips as blood rushed to my cheeks. Even after many sessions of mattress action, I was still timid in asking for what I wanted.

“Think that can be arranged.”

He kissed down my body, incorporating more of his tongue the lower he got. Every muscle in my body was clenched, and I fought to keep myself still. Stopping just above my panties, he slid the delicate fabric down my hips and off my legs, letting them naturally fall off my ankles. Kneeling at the edge of the bed, he wrapped his arms around my legs and pulled me to him as he settled into his favorite spot.

He planted soft kisses along my slit, teasing and taunting me by licking and dipping the tip of his tongue in my entrance. My head was back on the bed, my eyes already beginning to roll back in my skull, but I could feel him staring up at me from between my legs, his eyes glossed over with lust and passion. The way Daryl looked at me, kissed me, touched me, was something akin to worship.

“You’re so beautiful. Love seein’ ya like this, gettin’ all worked up just for me.” His sultry Southern accent was dirty talk all on its own, and combined with words of praise made me tingle from head to toe. He left a few more long, teasing kisses before slipping his tongue between my folds of aching flesh.

He was slow at first, taunting me just the way I liked as he repeatedly flicked my clit. As he picked up speed, I reached for his head, tangling my fingers in his hair and rocking my pelvis in motion with his fluid tongue as he brought me closer and closer to the peak of pleasure. I became so lost in the throes of lust that I was struggling to gain control of myself, bucking and shaking and squeezing my thighs together. His moans and grunts sent vibrations across my core, the sounds that dripped off his lips evidence that he, too, was in ecstasy. This was just as much for him as it was for me. My fingers in his hair, being surrounded by my warmth, the intoxicating taste of me coating his tongue…this was his paradise.

“You’re shakin’, baby.” His hands gently pressed against my knees, coaxing them apart. “Gotta keep your legs open for me.”

Fuck, I’ve taught him well, I thought.

Shockwaves of pleasure radiated through every cell of my body. The only sounds echoing off the walls were my mix of luscious moans and delirious giggles. I used to be self-conscious about how loud I was the bedroom, but Daryl had assured me on numerous occasions of how hot he thought it was, how they were sounds often on repeat in his dreams.

“I’m close,” I said, words coming out broken though breathy moans, “so close, baby.”

Daryl took that as his cue to pick up speed, his magical tongue rapidly encircling my most sensitive area and devouring me like I was his last goddamn meal. Every centimeter of my skin was burning with pure ecstasy as the metaphorical cord in my center grew more taut with each pass of his tongue. I instinctively bucked into him, gently tugging on his hair and eliciting more deep grunts and groans from him, and my eyes rolled back into my head as the suction on my swollen clit pushed me over the edge.

“Ah…ah—fuck!” My cries were followed by my signature string of giggles, the telltale sign that I had climaxed. Daryl plunged his tongue in my entrance, yearning to feel my walls twitch around him as I rode out my high.

“That’s my good girl,” he hummed, leaving one last long, tender kiss between my legs.

As my body came down from the peak of pleasure, he crawled back onto me, leaving kisses along my jawline. I was all delirious smiles as the kisses trailed to the sensitive spot under my ear, all the while repeating how much he loved me. No man had ever cared about my pleasure in the way Daryl had. He always made sure to get me off first, and often, more than once.

“Ya still doin’ alright?” he asked, running a hand through my hair and lightly massaging my scalp with his fingers.

“Oh, I’m fantastic,” I replied, giggles still intertwined with my words. His signature little grin crossed his lips as he kissed me again, slipping his tongue in to allow me to taste myself on him.

“Ya wanna keep goin’?”

“Yeah.” I hoped my nod and tone of voice would mask the anxiety creeping up in my chest. Alas, it did not. This man was somehow attuned to my every thought, reading me like a damn book no matter how hard I tried to keep a poker face.

“What’s goin’ on?” The tone of voice softened, and I could tell he was starting to get worried. This was typically the point where I would start having a panic attack, and he was bracing himself to jump into action.

I bit the inside of my bottom lip and nodded again, dropping my gaze. “Mhm. Just a little nervous is all.”

“We can stop,” he reassured, “like I said, ain’t gonna upset me.”

“I wanna keep going. I’m alright, I promise. Just first-time butterflies is all. Those’ll be around until…y’know, it’s not the first time anymore.” I brushed strands of hair out of his eyes, tucking them behind his ear as I brought my gaze back to his. The safety that lied within those baby blue eyes soothed me instantly. “I’m sure you’ve got some of those too, right?”

His cheeks turned a faint shade of pink. “Maybe, yeah.” He dropped his gaze for a moment before bringing it back to mine, biting his lip. “Was worried ya might…I dunno. Just didn’t want ya worryin’ ‘bout me. Wanted ya to focus on yourself.”

“Aww, baby,” I cooed, taking his face in my hands and tenderly caressing his cheekbones with my thumbs, “it’s alright to be nervous. We’re doing something new for the first time. It’s gonna be a little nerve-wracking for both of us.” I kissed the tip of his nose and gave him a soft, reassuring smile. “Do you wanna keep going?”

He adjusted himself to straddle me, my wetness further soaking his jeans. He left a few more tender, open-mouthed kisses on the sweet spot on my neck before sitting up, tossing his head back and shaking out his chocolate locks.

“Sure do.”

I bit my bottom lip as I unbuckled his belt, sliding it off and tossing it down beside me, the buckle clattering on the floor. I rubbed him over his jeans, lingering and swirling my fingers over his swollen tip. I licked my lips in anticipation, my core tingling and aching to feel every inch of him. His breathing picked up, small grunts and groans trickling off his lips, one of the sweetest sounds I’d ever heard. I paused to unbutton and unzip his jeans, his erection breaking free the moment it had even a hint of wiggle room.

I pulled him from his boxers and stroked him. The bulging veins on his member pulsated under my grip, and he was so rigid, you would’ve thought he was made of stone. A small bit of precum started to leak out, which I eagerly swiped up with my finger, maintaining eye contact with him as I licked it off my hand before continuing. He tossed his head back again, his mouth falling open as I drew circles with my thumb over his sensitive red tip. 

“Christ, woman.” He removed my hand from himself, kissing the back of it and placing it on his chest. His heart was pounding, his ribcage the only barrier keeping it from bursting from his body. “Keep touchin’ me like that, ain’t gon’ last much longer.”

Daryl climbed off of me and dropped the rest of his clothes to the floor. I watched as he retrieved a condom from the nightstand drawer, carefully tearing it open so as to not rip the rubber. I pulled myself up and adjusted, propping my head onto the pillows at the head of the bed. I watched with hungry eyes as he slid the condom down his length. I was craving him, aching, needing to feel him fill me in the most intimate way possible. Though there was still a small presence of nerves, the butterflies in my stomach were beginning to settle. I was ready.

“Ya comfortable?” he asked as he propped his arms up on either side of me and settled between my legs.

“Very,” I responded, “are you?”

“Mhm.” He dropped his head back into the crook of my neck, lips grazing the helix of my ear as his gravely voice whispered erotic promises to me. “Wanna look at ya while it’s happenin’. See how good I’m makin’ ya feel.” I dropped my gaze and snickered as the blood rushed to my cheeks. Only Daryl was capable of making me giggle and blush like a schoolgirl.

His cock twitched on its own accord, grazing my clit as it did and sending little shockwaves through my center. “Ya sure you’re good?”

“I’m great, I promise,” I assured. I ran my hands through his hair and down his neck around to his chest, his muscles flexing as I caressed him.

“Just got one last question.”

The blush on my cheeks returned again. “What’s that?” I wondered. Like I didn’t know exactly what he was about to ask me.

“Can I fuck you?”

“Christ, yes.”

He took his time entering me, sliding in slowly to soak in every second of the feeling. My mouth fell open, and I looked down between us for a moment to watch him slip inside me. His cock slowly sinking further into my entrance was a beautiful sight.

The face he made when he first slid in…I’d give anything to see that face again, to capture a still of it and it imprint it into my memory forever.

“Shit, ya feel good,” he moaned, his head falling into the crook of my neck. 

“Kinda…tilt your pelvis…” I instructed, placing my hands on his hips to help guide his adjustment, “to get—oh, there you go.” His pubic bone put the ideal amount of pressure on my clit as he thrusted. “Nice and easy.”

“How’s that feel?”

“So good,” I replied, words spilling out me between moans as we kissed, “you feel so good.”

I was aching for him to return every time he pulled out. His tongue was magic, but his cock was otherworldly. He was the perfect size, comfortably filling every square inch of me and bottoming out with each thrust. It was like he was crafted just for me, and I was crafted just for him.

My eyes fluttered closed.

“Fuck, baby.” The words trickled off my lips like an erotic prayer.

“You’re so sexy.” He dropped his forehead to mine. “I love ya so much.”

I echoed his adoration, the words coming out between huffs and puffs. “I love you too…so much…you can…go faster…if you want…”

I opened my eyes in time to see him smirk, and I gasped at the pleasure that rolled through me as he picked up speed. “That what ya want?”

“Mhm.” After a few quick thrusts, he slowed his pace again, this time pumping in and out even slower than when he started.

“Ya know I need to hear ya say it,” he reminded. When it came to consent, a nod or an “mhm” or moan in response wasn’t good enough for Daryl. He needed verbal confirmation every single time, and to me, it was one of the hottest things about him.

“Yes,” I practically begged, “I…” I averted his gaze and bit my lip, my cheeks growing hot as I blushed the hardest I had so far. “I want it faster.”

The sinful sounds of skin-on-skin and salacious moans entangled as he repeatedly thrusted deep into my core. My breasts bobbed as we rocked back and forth, the squeaking of the bed becoming the harmony complimenting the melody of our bodies. Despite my eyes being closed, I could feel his on me, watching as my face warped and contorted with each wave of euphoria he sent between my legs. His moans were almost animalistic in nature, and his body was rigid, his face turning red as his breathing became more rapid. He was desperate for release, and it was evident that he had needed me just as much as I needed him. The enticing sounds slipping off his tongue were sounds I often played on repeat in my head when he was gone, my dreams recollections of our past intimate endeavors. I wrapped my legs around him, my heels digging into the small of his back, allowing for him to hit my G-spot at the perfect angle.

“Ugh, fuck, I’m gonna come.”

“Wanna feel it,” Daryl growled, hardly able to form a complete sentence as his tongue followed the curve of my helix, “wanna feel ya twitchin’ ‘round my cock.” I could tell he was close too, using every fiber of his being to hold himself back until I could get off first.

“Mmm…fuck…oh God.” Small initial shockwaves of pleasure began to roll through me, subtle and almost muted at first, letting me know what was waiting for me once I peaked.

“That’s it.” His voice was a sexy dichotomy of gravely and silky smooth as he nibbled at the sensitive spot below my ear. “Ya gonna be a good girl ’n scream my name?”

That alone almost sent me over the edge.

All I could do was nod in response, my eyes squeezed shut and moaning sweet nothings directly into his ear. My legs were beginning to shake, and I knew it was only going to be a few more strokes before ecstasy took over. I was moments from coming undone.

“Mmm…oh…oh, Daryl!”

I clung to him for dear life as I came, my body trembling and writhing underneath him. My fingers dug into his back muscles, my face pressed into the crook of his neck, practically gasping for air as orgasmic bliss nearly took my breath away. I bucked into him instinctively, demanding to feel continued pressure on my clit as I rode out the most intensive waves of pleasure yet. My walls clenching around him, along with my signature string of lewd giggles, were the catalyst to his release.

“Aah! Shit!” Strained moans and gasps came out through gritted teeth as his forehead fell to mine. I gasped at the feeling of him pulsating inside me as he emptied into the condom. He continued to frantically thrust, prolonging both my pleasure and his, before relaxing in my arms, the happy hormones coursing through him bringing a smile to his face. He trailed kisses along my jawline, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

Every muscle in my body felt like jelly. My limp legs slid off onto the bed, and my head fell to the pillow, eyes rolling back. I stared up at the ceiling, taking deep breaths and listening to my heart pounding in my chest. My ears felt full, like when the air pressure changes on a plane. Every cell in my body was singing his praises, and I was seeing stars.

He pulled out once he went limp inside me, rolling over to remove the condom, tying it off and letting it drop to the floor. He grabbed the covers and pulled them up over us, coming back and pulling me close to him. He’d rolled onto his side, propping himself on one arm and leaning over in my line of sight, running his other hand through my hair.

“Hi beautiful,” he practically cooed, kissing my cheek. A silly, delirious smile broke out on my lips.

“I think I just saw God,” I laughed, eliciting an amused chuckle from Daryl. As I panted, my gaze met his, and he kissed me again, tenderly, just like he always did. Even in the naughtiest contexts, this man never made me feel anything short of loved and adored.

“Ya know, I’ve tried my damndest to recreate that sexy little giggle in my head when I’s on the road, but ain’t nothin’ like hearin’ it from the source.” My cheeks began to turn rosy red at the thought of Daryl thinking about me to relieve himself when he was away for too long. “How ya feelin’?”

With those three little words, a myriad of post-coitus emotions coursed through me. Pride, joy, appreciation, and love, just to name a few, hit me like a train and sent me careening into a fit of tears. I was immediately overwhelmed, the feeling building in my chest overflowing as tears streamed down my face and soaked the sheets below me. Even though they were happy feelings, there were a lot of them, more than my body was able to handle in my current state.

“Hey, you’re ok.” He leaned over me, wiping tears off my cheeks and wrapping his other arm underneath me. “What’s wrong?”

The tone of his voice had dropped, and he looked sad, like he felt awful, like he thought he’d done something wrong. The worry radiating off of him was palpable, and I could tell that he thought I was spiraling into a panic attack. I gave him a big, stupid grin, kissing all over his face to reassure him that these were, in fact, happy tears.

“Nothing’s wrong, my love,” I promised, holding his face in my hands and stroking his cheeks with my thumbs, kissing the tip of his nose, “I’m just…overwhelmed, but with good feelings.” I blinked back more tears and took another deep breath. “I did it. I’m so proud of myself. And it was…you were…incredible. First time having sex that was so good, I cried after.”

“That good, huh?” he smirked. He adjusted his position over me, puffing his chest out a bit as he did. Clearly, I’d boosted his ego.

“Mhm. Really good,” I reiterated, biting the inside of my bottom lip as a faint blush of pink returned to my cheeks once again. “How are you feeling? How was your first…time getting your dick wet?”

“Amazin’. I mean, you were amazin’,” he replied, “happy ya said somethin’ when I got home. Ya’s lookin’ so good, I almost lost it.” His fingers trailed down my side, circling over the tattoo on the front of my right hip. “Gotta start dressin’ like that more often.”

I looked up at him, my baby blues locking with his as I gave him a soft smile. Every ounce of love I had for the beautiful man in front of me fought to break free from my chest as my heart swelled in my ribcage. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

He chuckled as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and kissed me. “Takin’ care of…’t’s cute.”

Taglist: @raddydaddydude @lovenormandixon

Divider found on Google via searching for stock images

[rosiebeetle]

Can I request a fluffy Beej x reader? I can’t think of any specifics other than career woman reader (gender neutral works too)

I'm gonna be so real w u idk what career woman rlly means but I hope I got it right!! Using no names in this was kinda hard tbh 😭😭 but I hope u like it! And I hope beej isnt to cc I haven't written non domesticated beej in a while..

She felt like her eyes were getting heavier by the second. She was starting to regret agreeing to run the store for the maitlands, running a business was harder than she thought. Who knew there were so many different kinds of screws?? Coffee stopped working ages ago but she had to finish up making supply orders.

The laptops blue light burned and she could feel her vision basically getting worse as time went by. Maybe closing her eyes for a moment wouldn't be so bad.. Just a few seconds.

An hour later she was woken up by a cold hand on her shoulder. “WHAT I'M UP-” she yelled, wiping the drool off her face and eyes darting around the room until she heard snickering from behind her. She turned the chair and saw beej laying down in the air snickering at her.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Asshole” she muttered, turning back to her work. She was about to delete the long paragraph of E's she had accidentally typed until she got spun right back around.

“You've been working all day” Beetlejuice whined like a child. “You didn't even come eat dinner when Darla-” “Delia” she corrected. “Right right Delilah called us down.”

“I'm busy on Fridays you know this by now beej” she tried to turn her chair back around but his grip stopped her.

“And I'm bored on Fridays! Let's go watch a movie, maybe terrorize some teenagers that are smoking at the park” he grinned, shaking the chair slightly.

“Go ask Lydia to hang out with you, I'm busy” she crossed her arms, glaring up at him.

“Lydia's with prunes and burps” he stuck out his tongue making a fake gag noise.

“Prudence and bertha.” She corrected him again. “Go ask Adam or barbara if they need anything then”

“The last time I helped them with something the stove blew up” he looked down at her, she was still in her work clothes from the shop. Snapping his fingers she was changed into a long sleeves sleeping shirt with skulls on it and fuzzy sleeping pants with bats and pumpkins. “I wanna watch the new terrifier and you are gonna watch it with me” he grinned.

“For the last ti- HEY!” He had picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. “Beetlejuice I need to finish up the supply order!”

“Watch it with the name babes and you have all weekend to do that! Your fighting a losing battle right now” he carried her down the stairs and plopped her down on the couch. He dug through his pockets and pulled out some Reece's pieces popcorn and a CD of terrifier 3.

“How the hell did you even get that? It's barely been out in theaters.” by the time she was on the couch she accepted her fate and just decided to indulge in some relaxation.

“I'm dead and I got sick ass powers, your smart you should know this by now” she narrowed his eyes. “You stole it didn't you”

He grinned wide and nodded. “sold like 12 of them on ebay the highest bid is at 1,000” he stuck out his tongue slightly as he snapped and everything poofed into place with a light green smoke. The movie was starting, beej was pressed against her and he already was stuffing his face with popcorn. The lights were off but there was a weird orange light coming from somewhere. She didn't bother looking because her eyes didn't feel strained for the first time in hours.

“if I puke your dealing with it” he hummed in response and wrapped a arm around her shoulders, nails gently scratching. That Dickhead was trying to put her to sleep! It obviously wasn't gonna work..

Her eyes started to feel heavy. She forced them wide as she stared at the tv but then a hand started scratching at her scalp and she was slowly getting laid down, head resting on beetlejuice's thigh. Maybe a few minutes of sleep wouldn't hurt. Before she let her eyes shut she felt a kiss being pressed to her head and a soft but gruff “I love you” being spoken before beej cackling at a woman getting stabbed- or bit? She couldn't see. She let her eyes close and the warmth of beej relax her as she drifted off.

[specialagentlokitty]

Teen wolf x reader - family isn’t blood

Would I be able to request a teen wolf imagine where reader is an orphan who is in the pack, and constantly trying to prove themselves worthy to the pack, and the pack (more so Alison and Lydia if that’s ok?) helping reader see that they are worthy and have a family with the pack and worrying about them being so reckless, please??? - Anon💜

You weren’t sure how long it had been, you started your research after the pack meeting the night before, now the sunlight was breaking through your windows.

Your mind was begging for your to stop, to get some rest, but you ignored it, still flicking through hooks and webpages you had found.

“Looks like someone’s been busy.”

Looking up from your desk, you smiled at Alison and waved her into your room, gesturing for her to take a seat anywhere she wanted.

“Yeah, I’ve found a bit but not much, though these books look promising.”

You pointed to the large pile of old looking books next to you before turning around to fully face her.

“What’s up anyways?” You asked.

“Nothing, I woke up not long ago and saw you were awake.” She smiled.

You hummed and nodded your head, looking at the window before turning back to her.

“Is your dad awake?”

“Yeah, but he left awhile ago, left a note.”

Again you nodded and went back to what you were doing which made Alison frown a little as she looked at you.

It was easy to see you hadn’t slept, your bed was still made, and she knew you made it every morning, you were still wearing the same clothes from last night, and there was a number of snacks and drinks scattered across your desk.

She also recalled something in a text her dad had sent her about your light being on whenever he walked past your room a few times last night.

“(Y/N)?”

You stopped again and turned around to face her, titling your head a little as you waited for her to carry on.

“Have you slept?”

“No, I wasn’t tired last night.”

“That’s not healthy (Y/N).” She scolded lightly.

Again you just shrugged and turned back around, and she sighed a little as she shook her head at you.

She grabbed her phone from her pocket and sent the pack a text, saying you hadn’t slept.

They kept a log of things you did, reckless things, that to anyone else would’ve just seen like normal teenager things to do, but they all knew it was more than that.

Last week you nearly broke your arm helping Stiles, and if it wasn’t for the fact Scott, Stiles and Chris had dragged you to Malissa, you wouldn’t have bothered to get it checked out.

Setting her phone down, she watched you for a few moments before walking over and placing her hand over the book you were reading.

Looking up, you rose a brow at Alison.

“Come on, let’s at least get breakfast.”

You thought for a second.

“Yeah, I can go for food. Where to?”

“That cafe you like?” Alison offered.

You beamed happily at that and she left so you could shower and change before you guys made your way to the cafe.

Stiles, Scott and Issac were there waiting and you slid into the booth next to the two werewolves.

“Where’s Lydia?” Stiles asked.

“Said she’d be here in a few.” You replied.

You didn’t have school for a while yet, so you thought inviting everyone to breakfast before going to classes would be nice.

And it was, you all talked and joked like normal teenagers, then you all headed to the school were you had to spend the day suffering in class.

You could barely keep yourself awake, and by lunch time everyone else had noticed this as well.

“Just go home.” Scott said gently.

“Yeah, I’ll bring your work by later, I’m sure coach won’t care.” Issac nodded.

You waved the pair off.

“It’s fine, nothing serious.” You yawned.

“You’re basically falling asleep in your lunch, go home.” Stiles said.

You shook your head at him.

“No, it’s fine.”

“You’re exhausted, you’re overworking yourself (Y/N), this isn’t good. You’re going to make yourself sick, or burnout.” Lydia scolded.

You shrugged a little as you nibbled on a bit of your lunch, gazing out the window at some birds that were flying around.

“So what? Doesn’t really matter.” You replied.

“It does, you’re worrying everyone.” Alison said.

“Who’s their to worry? Clearly not my family, plus with the parent teacher conference coming up I’d much rather just stay focused, you guys are all going to be busy that night and we’ve got a deadline for the night after.”

You pushed your lunch away and stood up.

“Anyways, gotta run, need to ask Peter and Derek some questions, tell coach I’m sick or whatever he won’t even notice I’m gone.”

With that, you left and they all shared a look of wordy as they watched you leave the building.

You drove to Derek’s place and shot him a text saying you were coming up before you made your way up to the loft.

Letting yourself in, you spotted the pair around the desk in the middle of the room and you walked over, taking a seat on the edge of it.

“And to what do we owe the pleasure?” Peter smirked.

“Just got some questions about some stuff I read last night if you guys got time?”

“Sure, but first things first we need to speak with you.” Derek said.

You sighed, rolling your eyes at him.

“You guys aren’t my parents, don’t scold me like I’m some kid okay? I can take care of myself, now, will you listen to what I found or not?”

“Only if you tell us why you’re being so reckless with your well-being.” Peter said.

You scoffed a little bit and stood up, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked at the two older werewolves.

“It’s none of your business, and who are you to judge my choices anyways? You’re a murderous psychopath and Derek is on the run from like every cop between here and freaking narnia.”

“We’re just worried.” Derek sighed.

“Well I don’t need you to worry about me, now can we please get down to it.” You snapped.

Finally the two agreed, and you ran everything you had found by them, asking them a few questions you thought might help your scavenger hunt.

After a few hours you had more information and you finally left to go back to your temporary home with Alison and her father.

Walking in, you made your way to your room but stopped when you saw Alison and Lydia sat on your bed.

“What?”

“We just want to talk.” Lydia said gently.

“Well I don’t want to talk, I’m busy.”

You sat down and you desk and narrowed down your piles of books into just a few.

“Fine, just listen. We’re all worried about you (Y/N), okay? You act like it’s you against the world, like the world is out to get you and you need to prove something to everyone.” Alison said.

You tried your best to ignore them.

“The truth is, no one is out to get you okay? We just want to help you, we want you to take care of yourself. And we know you’re not used to people being like this towards you, and we’re sorry about that, and that you had to go through that, but we mean it.”

You froze.

“You’re not my family…” you grumbled.

“We might not be your biological family, but family is much more than blood. You’re part of the pack (Y/N), and this pack is family.” Lydia said softly.

You slowly turned around to face them, and the pair of them smiled at you.

“We are your family, and we’re always going to be your family, okay?” Lydia asked.

You stared at them both for a moment.

“Why?”

“Because we love you moron, everyone loves you, even Peter even though he’s a hardass. Now will you please get some sleep, we can do whatever research it is you’re doing.” Alison said.

You sighed, and finally nodded your head.

You were exhausted and you really wanted to sleep, so you filled them in on what it is they were looking for.

While Alison took your spot at your desk, Lydia made sure you actually got into your bed, and she sat next to you as you laid down staring at the ceiling.

You reached out and took her hand, mumbling a small thanks as you quickly drifted to sleep

[buckybarnesss]

The more I think about it, the more I am increasingly charmed by the idea of Derek finding lil baby Eli on the nemeton stump and and being like, "Well, I'm clearly the only person responsible enough to raise this baby" and just adopting Eli and then everyone throws a "So You Found A Baby" party for him.

I also am in love with the idea that Stiles buys little baby clothes and it's, like, a little pair of jeans and a plaid shirt, and Peter is fucking horrified in the corner, drinking a glass of wine, wondering why he's been cursed to witness so much flannel.

the idea of the nemeton gifting derek a baby is incredibly charming and fairy tale like. the nemeton benevolently wanting to apologize to derek like "sorry about all the shit that happened to you that was sort of my fault. here's a cute baby xoxoxox"

i also love the idea of eli imprinting on stiles like a duckling and just becoming his little shadow when he's around which is both terrifying and insanely attractive to derek. the sheriff thinks it's hilarious and is more than happy to babysit. stiles becoming really involved with eli is [chef's kiss].

lydia being a doting fairy godmother because someone has to have taste (not you, peter) and she's done the research to help improve eli's cognitive development.

malia being the fun kind of aunt who helps eli commit baby crimes. she'd encourage independence and play with him because lbr she's not nurturing exactly and derek doesn't trust her to babysit for extended periods but malia would be fun.

liam has no idea what to do with a child. don't even ask. he's just a tall toddler himself. he's the one to be like "mood" when eli cries.

scott is the one who carries all sorts of cool bandaids. the ones that have batman and paw patrol and disney characters. his mother was a nurse damn it and he's a vet. scott is a patient person and has a calm bedside manner. scott mccall would coo at babies and play peek a boo in a grocery store line. because fuck you jeff davis scott is a softie and would still talk to people and make sure derek was okay at minimum.

peter being peter about it. you know he'd watch over that kid like a mother hen and pretend he wasn't. derek would have mixed feelings about this. peter would also try to get rid of the plaid that has entered eli's wardrobe. it's his chosen battle.

[ssleeping-in-a-coffin]

I want to introduce you to... Lydia! Ta-da!

Drawing the female character model turned out to be much more difficult than I thought. But for the first time, in my opinion, it turned out quite decent.

So, perhaps I can start with the fact that a very small number of people know about the series "Hotel Transylvania" and that Drac has a sister. Here she is in the original, by the way:

What have I changed/added/removed?

First of all, it's her hair; I never liked her hairstyle with the tiara...? I don't know, I couldn't find an explanation for what's on her head, even on the internet... Hair braided into a bun was the best I could offer. (￣ω￣)

I chose the clothes based on her character. A long skirt, corset, blouse - all strict and beautiful. She has no connection to the hotel, as she doesn't live there, so she has no reason to wear anything with its logo.

The staff. I have a theory that Lydia had problems with magic concentration from birth, so she simply can't cast spells with her hands like others can. And the staff just helps her solve this problem. Well, as you can see, I replaced the staff with an umbrella, which serves the same purpose.

She doesn't wear a cloak, or wears it only in rare cases.

Her character hasn't undergone any major changes, probably... In the eyes of society, she appears as a heartless scoundrel who would sell her brother for a single corn cob (well, I suppose that's true). However, she sincerely worries about him in her own way. After Martha's death, she volunteered to sit with Mavis without Drac's request, until he settled some matters.

I can suggest that Lydia is knowledgeable about gemstones, art, and astrology.

There is a lower bite, but you can't see it until she starts smiling. Lydia is obviously complexed because of it, so she prefers not to show bright emotions.

She has a pet - a chicken (I decided to keep this detail from the series). It's not intelligent, unlike the original, and doesn't carry any special value, but Lydia loves it for some reason. Once, Drac's chef almost roasted the poor animal, after which she stopped carrying it around with her to the hotel. (￣ ￣|||)

Well, that's all I wanted to say, bye-bye!

[monstercampus]

SORRY I FORGOT ONE THING

I kept meaning to send this ask but I wasn't sure if I already had and had just forgotten, but you mentioned that Lydia had made some enemies after "what happened with her and Jude" ... 👀 What did happen exactly? 👀 Or is that character lore not unlocked yet 🤭

lore! lore! lore!

Lidya & Jude - Origin Stories

(cws: bullying, suicidal ideation, murder, character death, mild sexual implication, unholy world lore)

Lidya never really had friends before she went to MC--as a succubus of her pedigree she had never spent time in the world of humans, nor had she really left the Underworld at all. When she started attending (encouraged by her dear old uncle Lucifer) she had such a bad attitude and a terrible reputation off the bat that nobody would be caught dead hanging around her. She'd show up in class, hang out behind the counter at the arcade, and lock herself in her dorm until the cycle repeated. Day in and out, never changing her routine and constantly harbouring a deep, lingering resentment towards the monsters that would make fun of her clothes and her makeup and everything else about her. She'd scroll past photos and videos people would take of her in class with cruel captions of all kinds, until eventually she just ended up smashing it and started flipping through comic books instead. "Rage Demon" painted on her bedroom door that was meant to hurt, but she ended up turning the insult into embroidery on her t-shirts and jewelery she crafted in Silver & Finery class.

That was before she met him. Although the culture of the campus has been prized for generations, the bullying situation hasn't been the greatest--Judas was no exception, although the two of them only knew of each other when he wandered into the arcade for the first time.

Jude was, in some ways, the complete opposite of Lidya. When they met he was all smiles all the time, laughing and joking and teasing her in that affectionate way when they'd only known each other a couple minutes. He'd been the closest she'd ever gotten to a human, because he wasn't human anymore, but was a long time ago. He told her stories of his flaming red hair and piercing, steely eyes and the sword he carried with a golden handle, a human who was a hero long, long ago, reduced to something lesser now. She always thought they were bullshit but they still made her smile, and so he would come day after day and interrupt her routine just because he felt like it. They'd have fierce competitions for hours on end and after just a few weeks of friendship, they'd put their hands on every single cabinet multiple times over. They'd disagree and argue and scream at the top of their lungs but they would never be serious--sometimes it would blow over in minutes, sometimes it would just be to scare people away from bothering them. But they knew each other inside and out and it would make their lives so much harder from then on.

Although he loved to boast his strength and his valour with a sword and called himself a knight, Jude knew he would never live long enough to graduate. As a former fount of lichen power that had now been drained back into its master, Judas' body had started degrading and the slope of his health was only getting steeper. His classmates and other students would prey on him just as they did Lidya, mocking his terrible attendance and the gaunt look in his eyes as the telltale signs of a cheap junkie; little did they know that he was dying, and that every breath became a mountain he was growing further and further from climbing. He'd gotten so good at masking his tiredness, depression, and fear, but it wouldn't be long before Lidya would notice just how sick he was and that he wasn't long for this world.

And how ironic! Because as willing as he'd once been to end this wretchedly unassuming existence he had lived, Jude's last year of life had been the most fulfilling of any he'd lived before. He had a friend whom he loved more dearly than family, more than even a lover, yet it was the sickest he'd ever been and the most painful days he survived. She would play him her angry, violent, rumbly music that blew out his eardrums, and he would read her those long, stale, sappy fantasy poems and prose until she fell asleep, and neither would be nearly as happy alone anymore. One could not be found without the other. They were inseparable, and swore to be so in death as well as life.

But even as a denizen of the Underworld, Lidya had no control over the strings of fate. The promises she made to him that she would keep his soul safe when he passed were destined to be broken. He was, after all, a servant in service of a lich--whether by his choice or not, he would pay the toll of highest necromancy magic the Underworld offers: being fed to Chaos and sent into the throes of darkest oblivion forever.

One could imagine how poorly that went for the Fated Ones themselves, laughing in the face of her frenzied plea to let innocent Judas free. Lidya could have passed for the once-freed Chaos himself on that day as she razed the Fates' dwelling in a blinded rage, violently tearing each of their ancient selves apart in response to their callous disregard for his tender victimhood. He would have accepted that fate just to reassure her regardless of his own terror of his soul being chewed into a void, yet instead he would be greeted by his closest friend half-dead on his doorstep but victorious. Clutching the precious treasure she had ripped from the ring of the eldest fate; a pearl of life now empty in death, a priceless soul orb.

Anyone who has even the slightest knowledge of demonry and soul collection knows of the elusive soul orb. Perhaps the only way one could house a soul free from influences both holy and unholy, the soul orb seals and protects the life stored inside it eternally, if and until it is shattered by enough force to move mountains. Scholars often consider the pearl that sprung Eden as the very first of this creation, or at very least the legend of it, but few have ever encountered one--much less one of the pure and unshattered variety, suitable for housing a chosen spirit. Perhaps the one Lidya fought for was the only one remaining of such purity. It could have forever been priceless in the hands of the right buyer, placed in the perfect museum to teach and inspire the masses.

But instead, Lidya offered it to her best friend on his deathbed, and in a moment of weakness and selfish fear Judas accepted the gift. In a contract bound by most unholy tenets, Lidya......"extracted" his soul, in the way that succubi do, and interred his spirit forever in the purest form of magic known to the modern and ancient world. Thereby royally pissing off each and every scholar, suitor, noble, and legend in both the Holy Lands and especially the Unholy ones, every finger pointed at the rebellious error of demon inheritance to Lucifer's throne. Lidya's sacrifice of one of the Underworld's most precious artifacts, not to mention the killing of the few ancient gods that remained since the old age, all in the name of a worthless surface monster would ensure she would never outlive the ire and violence pitted against her by all her godly acquaintances and relatives.

But was it worth it? Of course. Worth every moment of agony and every eon she has yet to suffer for her crimes. Worth each and every glare in the royal halls and on campus grounds, worth the venom spat from her kin and the whispers between her classmates as they gossip about her betrayal--not just for the artifact, but for the soul she clearly manipulated that poor, sick monster into handing over who she was just stringing along. Definitely worth the days and nights she spent locked up in the arcade's back room, her blood pumping with excess caffeine as she worked her fingers bloody to construct a proper body for Jude's new chapter of life. For hours he sat as nothing but a misty, warm-to-the-touch orb perched on a pillow off her bed, his voice a whisper she leaned in to listen to as he would give her tips on what to add. How to angle her brush to paint those gorgeous, flowing scenes down the sides of the cabinet. The colour of his hair in the pixels. The gleam off his sword as it shone in synthetic light. Lidya worked tirelessly and in weeks it was finished; The Adventures of Jude she wanted to call it, but with only a dabble of paint left she could only spell out "JUDAS" in those big, blocky letters. But he liked it. He loved it. It was his dream and it had all come true.

And that was all she ever really wanted. As she slotted Jude's orb into that safe, protective casing inside the machine she built for him, booted him up, and watched as his pixelated self came into his own, she could finally breath a sigh of relief. To build a world where he could live his dream every day, unburdened, free from the binds of body and soul, was worth every drop of blood spilled and every black mark on her permanent record without a shadow of a doubt.

[klbwriting]

Combining Two Worlds

Chapter 12: Truth or Dare

Fandom: DCEU

Pairing: Ormxfemale!Reader

Warnings: some suggestive language

Summary: Orm and Arthur take Ludo out for a bachelor party while Mera and Y/N host Lydia for a girls' night in

Note: it is so hard for me to find good GIFs from the 2nd movie, like yes I love all the shirtless ones but still, I need more!

Hestia and Syfin left for Xebel and it was like Ludo and Lydia were lost.  They sat at the lunch table the next day, quiet, not even looking at each other.  Y/N finally got tired of the silence and the awkward staring and sighed. 

               “Are you excited for the party?” she asked Lydia, smiling at the girl.  Lydia looked at her finally, clearly trying to figure out the game they were all playing.  “Its not going to be fancy or anything, I’m honestly not a fancy person.  I thought maybe we would play a few games, there’s so many Atlantian games I haven’t played.  Maybe I’ll teach you two some of the surface world’s games, we have one called truth or dare, very popular.”  Orm smiled, seeing what she was trying to do.  Arthur clapped a hand on Ludo’s back. 

               “You my friend are in for a night of complete debauchery,” he said.  Orm cocked an eyebrow, looking at his brother.  “O we are going to drink some of that terrible fermented seaweed crap you guys’ drink, play some cards, go find an actual mermaid.”  Ludo looked both intrigued and terrified. 

               “He’s lost his mind,” Mera said, laughing. 

               “How many do I have to tell you, Ariel is not real,” Orm groaned.  Arthur shook his head undeterred. 

               “I don’t know, up until like six years ago Atlantis wasn’t real,” Arthur said.  “I gotta say my chances are good to find her and then well, Mera will have competition.” 

               “O will I now?” she asked.  Arthur smirked and shrugged, moving to his wife, kissing her head. 

               “This is going to be fun.”

               Y/N had requested everyone dress for comfort, but it seemed that Lydia didn’t exactly know what that meant, arriving dressed for an actual party.  Mera had prepared for this, bringing extra clothes for her. 

               “Lydia, you look so good!” Y/N said as the other girl sat down in her new outfit.  “Tell me Lydia, what games do you like?”

               “It’s been a long time since I was asked to play a real game,” she said.  “Normally the games we play are…just to win, not for fun.”  Mera nodded.

               “After Atlanna was exiled that is what Orvax did to Orm and me, we played games of battle, strategy, nothing that was just for enjoyment,” she said.  Y/N shook her head.

               “Both of you, have such screwed up childhoods.  Dear God, ok, then we are just playing some good old-fashioned truth or dare,” Y/N said.  “All fun, all silly, no question is off limits. Of course the dares can’t be dangerous because well, I will throw a trident through someone who tries to make me do something to endanger Velka.”

               “Velka?” Lydia asked.  Y/N smiled and patted her stomach.  “What about the other one?” 

               “Other one?” Y/N asked, confused.  Lydia nodded.  “It’s not…twins?”

               “When we were exiled, we lived in a settlement and I often helped with the midwives when I was old enough and my parents weren’t around,” she said.  “I know when a woman is carrying twins and you, are having twins.”  Y/N let out a breath. 

               “Well then, guess I’ll have to think of another name,” she said, before laughing happily.  Mera was still weary of Lydia, watching every move the woman made, but so far, she didn’t see any malice or deception.  Lydia seemed to be relaxing and genuinely interested in Y/N.  Mera just hoped it wasn’t because she wanted to betray her.   

               “Alright, Mera, truth or dare?” Y/N asked.  Mera had only seen this game played in movies and was worried about either option.  “Come on, I’m nice, I’m not going to embarrass you.”

               “Fine, dare,” she said.  Y/N smiled and looked around, hearing the men’s voices going by the room.

               “I dare you to shoot a water cannon at Arthur when he passes,” she said.  Mera laughed and got up, going to the doorway, and opening it.  They said goodbye to the guys as they walked by and Mera shot a water sprout right at Arthur, sending him toppling for a moment before he turned and smirked at her.

               “Don’t worry baby we’ll get rough in bed tonight!” he called back, making Orm groan and Mera blush. 

               “O, that’s going to be a question for truth later,” Y/N said.  They ladies went back to the room they were in and sat once again.  “Ok Mera, now you get to pick someone to ask.”  Mera looked at Lydia, who started looking very nervous.

               “Y/N,” she said, turning back to her friend.  “Truth or dare?”

               “Truth,” Y/N answered.  Mera thought for a moment.

               “Does Orm have any weird habits?  I never got that close to him when we were betrothed to know,” she asked.  Lydia leaned in, ready to hear something useful. 

               “I mean, he talks in his sleep, a lot,” she said.  “Constantly dreams about being attacked by sea worms.”  Lydia laughed with them this time, seeming to relax more.  “Doesn’t everyone have that one weird dream though?  I used to have a dream about a giant hat that I would get trapped in somehow.” 

               “Mine was always running into a blob fish without warning, in the dark,” Mera said. 

               “My nightmares were always that someone would hurt my brother,” Lydia said.  Y/N and Mera looked at her, looking worried.

               “Who would hurt your brother?” Y/N asked.  Lydia bit her lip.  “Lydia, I know that you don’t like me, but I don’t want to be enemies, at all.”  She sighed and looked so exhausted. 

               “I am so tired of this game,” she said.  “Not…not this game we’re playing, this is fun, but of what my parents’ want.  I don’t want Orm, in fact, after we were released, I met someone that I care about deeply already, she lives in the city, she’s not noble but she’s wonderful.  I’m sorry about everything I’ve done, and I hated every minute of it.”

               “What do your parents want?” Mera asked. 

               “They want to be on the throne, they want revenge against Orm and his family.  Orvax sent us away because they were really trying to kill Atlanna and Orm, they are monsters.  My brother is just like them, I just want out,” she said.  “They want me to marry Orm, get close enough to Arthur and Mera to stage some kind of accident for their family.  Orm will ascend the throne and I will be queen and when I have an heir, I will kill Orm.  That is the entire plot, they have been planning it for years.  In fact, when we arrived and found out about you and then your baby’s, my parents nearly murdered you themselves, but they held back, don’t like to get their hands dirty.  I was supposed to do that, to poison you so you would at least lose the babies, but I fought to just try and seduce Orm away from you.  But he loves you so much, the devotion he has to you is inspiring.  Then it was to get you to leave, which we did, and get rid of the prince.  I’m sorry Mera, Ludo, he knows all these poisons, he listens to the servants, he found your stash of snacks for Tom and well.  I’m sorry” Lydia finished and looked down to her hands.  Y/N moved over and sat beside the woman, wrapping an arm around her.  Mera watched closely, trying to see a lie in Lydia’s words, but couldn’t find any.  She was either a very good liar or she was being honest. 

               “Would Ludo try to hurt Arthur and Orm tonight?” Y/N asked.  Lydia shrugged.

               “I don’t know, he didn’t seem too excited to go to this little party so I don’t think so, unless he could separate them somehow…” she shrugged again, clearly at a loss.  She didn’t understand her brother and his motives, nor why he wanted so badly to be like his parents.

               “We should go, make sure that they are safe,” Mera said.  They were just getting to the garage for a vehicle when Arthur came back, alone.  “Where’s Orm?”

               “There was an explosion at the club, we got separated, he’s not here?” Arthur said.  Y/N shook her head.  “Dammit…”

               “This has Ludo written all over it,” Lydia said.  Y/N looked at her.  “He will hold Orm hostage now, without our parents he doesn’t know how to handle this delicately, only with brute force. He will ask for the throne in exchange for Orm’s life.” 

               “Where would he go?” Arthur asked.  Lydia shrugged; she didn’t know what her brother did when they were released. 

               “He just talked about going to place he knew they wouldn’t like half-breeds or their allies.”

               “Wherever he is, he better be ready,” Y/N said.  “He has fucked with the wrong half-breed.”

[phantomraeken]

Random Teen Wolf headcanons / thoughts

I imagine Lydia gets stared at a lot and Malia and Kira get stared at because they walk around with her. Malia doesn't really care but Kira does. She gets hella uncomfortable and its pretty easy to see. Theo obviously picks up on it and will switch clothes with Kira. Man doesn't give a shit what she's wearing. As long as she's comfortable he's happy.

Also with Liam, when people comment on how hes " not a real guy " or how feminine he looks Kira and Malia will dress up in the most masculine thing they own and Theo will dress up in something very feminine just to make him feel better.

All the boys carry pads / tampons around. Even Jackson and Corey even though they're the less likely for any girl to go up too. It helps seeing sometimes Malia forgets she's not a coyote and that she actually has a period. Sometimes Lydia has to ask if she's on it and / or close to it. Liam always gets embarrassed when he asks about it but he's immediately reassured that some men get perios.

Due to the collective trauma of both packs they all know what triggers one another and make sure to avoid it. Theo hates being snuck up on, he's never explained why, he just fucking hates it. When someone walks towards him they make as much noise as possible to make sure he knows they're there. Liam flinches easily and gets really emotional when the person who made him flinch gets concerned so everyone started hiding their concern and would apologize. Malia hates kids getting attached to her. Everyone just avoids kids when Malia is around. It doesn't help they remind her too much of her family.

On the note of the last thing when someone has a panic attack they always keep track of what helps one another. It helps to make aure there isnt a mutual panic between people. This also creates a more calming environment

When anyone gets over stimulated, especially by public places they've created like a plan of how to get out of situations people don't wanna be in and it works very well.

There is rarely a time you'll see anyone sleeping alone if they're around one another. Constant cuddles. No matter what.

[bloodredx]

Day 7: Hatred

The chase had lasted well into the night, but now it was over. Her mother, cornered, back against the wall, stones cracked and worn by the weather and harshness of time. A trail of blood leading right to the spot, granting a clear indication of what was spent to reach this point. Serena knew what needed to be done, there was no doubt, no hesitation lingering. She drew her sword, braced herself, and aimed the tip true.

“W-wait!” Lydia held her hand up, a final attempt to stay the inevitable. “I’m your mother! You-“

The animalistic snarl that left Serena’s throat echoed off the cold grey stones. “Mother!? You think by virtue of birth that I owe you mercy?” She spit in her face, the clotting blood growing hard on the older woman’s cheek with the freezing air. “Mothers love their children, want the best for them. If nothing else just are there to protect them. You-“ Serena closed the gap between them, her blade now hovering inches away from her heart. “Are nothing. You actively hated me. You wanted me dead from the day I entered your life. Now that I’m useful to you-“

“No!” The queen’s hand wrapped around the blade, slicing her palm open. “It-it’s Ferronous custom, it-“

With a sickening crunch, the sword pressed through skin and tissues, piercing the heart. “I’ve had enough of your excuses.” Serena’s voice was barely audible over the winds whipping around, her eyes burning red as the black veins that marked her as a beast snaked across her skin. With teeth bared, fangs hanging long over her cracked lips, she twisted the blade eliciting a scream from her victim. “You alone will bear the hatred you gave me.”

Blood flowed, some on the ground, some from her mother’s lips, but most fell back into Serena, traveling through her sword and snaking back into the veins that wrapped around the handle, the veins she was cursed to bear. Before her eyes, the woman who made her, who forced her to be this way, slowly began to crumble into dust. Chunks rolled off, blending into the stones and snow covering thick around, leaving only clothes behind. With blood leaking from her eyes, Serena knelt low and sifted through the ash and lost fabric and plucked the only firm items within: two perfect pearlescent fangs. Sliding them between her fingers, Serena dissolved her sword back to blood, which splattered against the white of the snow and ash beneath her. She closed her eyes as she turned to leave, and whispered words so soft only the gods could have heard. “You may have born hatred, mother, but I must carry it with me.”

(OC-tober prompts by @oc-tober2023 can be found here.)

[sleekervae]

The Neighbour [4.5]

Masterlist

A/N: Y'all are angels and I appreciate you putting up with my dry spells. This piece is gonna' be a little shorter than what I would like but we're rolling towards a nice wrap up. Your patience is greatly appreciated, as always!

Warnings: family drama, the brothers getting into trouble, as usual

--

Eva hated long silences, especially awkward ones. Her father sat across from her and her siblings, sunken eyes averted to the table cloth as he'd let her words sink in.

"Are you sure, Eva?" Ivan asked, his voice tapering on a whisper.

The youngest sibling nodded, "Theo told me everything,"

Magda piped in, "She's got somebody new, Dad. She's gonna do to them what she did to us,"

"She's fucked," Greg added.

Their father let out a heavy sigh, "She's still your mother," seemed to be his best reasoning, "You can't just turn yours backs on her right now,"

Magda scoffed back, "And how many times has Mommy Dearest turned her back on us? I barely got so much as a phone call when Arleth was born!" she pointed to Greg, "Bet she doesn't know about Greg being gay! Or Eva's rockstar boyfriend!"

"Or your cancer scare," Eva added, her frustration reaching its boiling point, "Dad, I don't understand how you could still be in her corner? She left you! She left us all behind! And now she's bored in her new family so she moved on to the next thing,"

"And if she's going to keep this bullshit up, then Eva's not going to give her a kidney," Greg said, equally as disgusted as his sisters.

Fear flickered in their father's eyes, his gaze remained fixed on the table cloth, struggling to find the words to refute their argument. He wanted to cry about Eva's selfishness, but his rational side knew his hypocrisy would show no matter what.

"You're punishing her for something out of her control," he huffed.

Eva's frustration grew, her voice trembling as she tried to make sense of her father's enduring devotion.

"She has always been in control, Dad!" she exclaimed, "Would you listen to yourself? She doesn't care about you like this! Why are you still defending her?"

It was only then he met her gaze, the weight of his heartache showing through. It always had, it had aged their father significantly and it saddened the siblings greatly. They loved their father, but they could all agree that he was weak when it came to his devotion for his ex wife.

"She was a part of my life for twenty-five years," he muttered, his tone heavy in anguish, "She may not love me the way I wish she would, but she's still a part of my family. That means I had to find a way to carry the love we had and continue living mine without her,"

Greg shook his head, deflated, "You're still holding the door open hoping she comes home, but she's not, Dad. Lydia is laid up in a hospital bed with tubes up her nose, crying victim while fooling around on the guy she left you for,"

Eva's heart ached with the truth in her brother's words, comparable with the anguish for their dad's. This wasn't an easy decision for her, either, but Eva was never one for playing along with what was expected of her. She would be doing not only a disservice to herself, but to her family and their half brother.

"I'm not giving Mom my kidney," it felt weird to call her by that title, but it seemed to be the only way to drive home the fact that she was serious to her dad, "I still love her, but I'm not going to enable this delusion any longer,"

Remington had his chin in his palm, uneasiness swirling in his gut as he stared hard at the menacing cat. Pluto was hobbling around, still as curious as ever as he sniffed around the house, the only difference now was he had a bright blue cast around his leg. He wasn't even upset over what he had to pay at the vet, he was fretting over how to explain all of this to Eva.

"It's not that bad," Emerson noted, looking up from his sketchbook, "Should we sign it?"

"Can you sign a cat's cast? Or would it be too delicate?" Remington replied.

"It's a cast," he pointed out, "They didn't bind him tissue paper,"

On that note, Sebastian came stumbling into their kitchen, a cloth bag stock full of groceries in his arms. He dropped them onto the kitchen island with a heavy thud, glaring at his youngest brother.

"You know -- when you guys offered to have Thanksgiving here, I thought that meant you'd help me unload the car, at least," he grumbled.

Emerson rolled his eyes, "We're making sure the cat can walk," he replied.

Sebastian scoffed, "For the six hundred bucks we paid, he better be able to walk," he rounded the couch to find Remington, still hunched over as he watched Pluto, "Have you told Eva, yet?"

The middle brother shook his head, "She told me she'd call later, which means I have a few hours to come up with a viable story,"

"Would you calm down, please?" Sebastian took a seat beside him, "She's gonna understand Pluto was an accident!"

"I know, I know," Remington huffed, "I'm still nervous, alright?"

"Well, how about you get nervous about stuffing a turkey with me, hm?" he stood up and started for the door again, "C'mon, guys! Mom's coming with the turkey pans!"

Emerson glowered back, "Thanksgiving isn't even until Sunday, why are we prepping everything now?" he asked.

"Because we've never actually had a full, formal Thanksgiving in our own home before, and we gotta' prep that shit," Remington replied, following Sebastian, "It's kinda special, you know?"

With another eye roll, Emerson closed his notebook and stood up, "Alright, alright, I'm coming,"

The three brothers exited the door and started for Sebastian's open car, the trunk filled with more bags of groceries and tools they'd need for cooking. Remington made sure to close the door behind him, should Pluto get anymore wily ideas.

"What day is Eva coming back, anyway?" Sebastian asked, lugging another cloth bag into Remington's arms.

"Probably Tuesday," he replied.

"What about the surgery?" Emerson asked.

"She's not doing it," Remington replied simply.

Emerson stood stunned for a moment, missing his cue as Sebastian tried to hand him a flat of eggs, "Emerson!" he faltered as he nearly dropped them.

"Wait," he smacked Remington's arm, "She's not doing the surgery? Since when?"

"She texted me this morning," he replied.

Sebastian cocked a brow, "What about her mom, then? What's she supposed to do?" he asked.

"I don't know," he shook his head, "Something went down, obviously. I'll get the story when she calls me," he started back for the house.

"Shit," Emerson huffed, "Good for her, though. I told her to stand her ground,"

"I've given it some thought, actually," Sebastian admitted, "If it was Dad, I wouldn't give up a piece for him,"

"Glad we can agree," Emerson nodded.

Remington reached for the door handle and pushed, surprised however when he found the door wouldn't budge. He wrenched the knob, pushed and pulled, there was no give.

"What the fuck?" he exclaimed.

"What happened?" Sebastian called from the car.

He wrenched the knob again, turning to his brothers exasperated, "The door's locked!"

Emerson dropped the eggs back into the trunk, coming to his brother's aid, "No way," he too tried the knob, pushed and pulled, rammed his shoulder, and nothing was working, "Yeah, we're locked out,"

Sebastian wrangled for his keys out of his pocket -- of course he had his own key the his brothers' house -- and came over. He inserted the key into the lock and twisted, though he was surprised to find the knob was unlocked.

"How can we be locked out if the latch isn't even locked?" he twisted the key again, the clicking echoing to make his point.

Remington felt a chill go down his spine, looking up at the house with worry. His close encounter from the other night whisked through his head, but he thought better than to bring it up.

"Holy shit," Emerson gaped, "How do we get back in?"

"Wanna ask the cat?" Sebastian huffed, trying to ram his shoulder into the door.

Remington relented, putting down his grocery bag and started for the backyard, "I'll go through the window in the back," he decided.

The back patio was locked shut, the exception to the open screen window to filter in some fresh air. Remington popped the screen out and climbed into the living room, careful not to knock over any furniture or spook the pets inside. He stopped suddenly when he found Pluto sitting at his feet, staring at him with his big yellow eyes.

Remington simpered, carefully picking up the tabby and cuddling him into his shoulder, without knocking his cast.

"Pluto, did you lock the door on us?" he awed, starting down the hall, "Such a bad kitty. What's your mother gonna' say when she comes back and I report to her all the trouble you've gotten into?"

He approached the front door, perplexed as he found indeed the lock wasn't turned. With Pluto slung over his shoulder, he wrenched the knob and the door opened with no stalling, on the other side his brothers, relieved.

"Was it locked?" Sebastian asked, picking up and carting in the groceries.

"No, it wasn't," Remington replied frankly, "That's fucking weird,"

Emerson smirked, the egg flat cradled in his arms as he passed him, "Maybe it was your ghost playing a prank?"

"Alright wise guy," Remington slammed the door again, "I'll wake you up at two AM next time and you can be on ghost watch with me,"

Sebastian simply shook his head, "The two of you are gonna' be ghosts if you don't help me," he warned.

Remington pouted back, "You gotta' get through Pluto first," he patted the cat's bum to make his point. Pluto's only response was a yawn.

Greg ran to the door before the bell even finished tolling, revealing Julian and Theo on the other side. Julian was just shaking out his umbrella, the rain continuing to thunder down in the streets.

"Weather's gone biblical, I swear," the older man shook his head. Theo kept his head down as he kicked his shoes off, glancing through the curtain of his hair to pick out Eva's silhouette in the kitchen.

"Thanks for coming," Ivan helped Greg take their coats. Eva meanwhile stayed in the kitchen, Magda was at the table nursing a cup of lukewarm tea and taking a well earned break while Arleth was down for her nap.

Eva was staring at the names on her phone, Remington's was just screaming for her to hit call and hear his voice, his scratchy chuckle or whatever stupid jokes he could come up with to make her feel better. She wished she could have the time to just transport herself out of this headspace, put herself back within reach of him and her kitty, she missed them both terribly.

"We had to after the phone call," she heard Julian say, her curiosity now peaked as she looked up. Theo was approaching in a small shuffle, looking nervously between her and Magda. Eva smiled sympathetically.

"Hey, you want some tea?" she offered.

Magda began to laugh, "You're offering a twelve-year-old boy tea?" she chuckled.

Eva shrugged back, "Well, I don't know. We have it ready!"

Theo cracked a shy smile, "Sure, I'll take some," he said.

"There's sugar on the table," Magda directed, her interest peaked too, "What phone call is your dad talking about?"

He looked to her sheepishly, then to Eva, a silent wonder if it was safe for him to answer. Eva was equally curious, nodding encouragingly as she poured him his own mug. Theo sighed.

"The hospital called us --" he began, however, their father's echoing cry took them all by surprise.

"Are you kidding me?" he nearly roared.

Greg entered the kitchen at that, his expression dazed as though he was in a stupor. His sisters and half-brother stared at him.

"What's wrong?" Eva asked.

That's when Theo spilled the beans, "They canceled your transfer," he told her.

On the one hand, Eva was filled with relief, a heavy weight lifting off of her chest. On the other hand...

"... Was I gonna' get a phone call about this?" she gaped.

"She's not a match?" Magda asked, her excitement and elation teetering in her own expression.

"Nope," Greg answered precariously, his tone heavy, "Somebody else is, though,"

Eva was in no mood for his long, dramatic silence, " -- Who?"

Before Greg could answer, sure enough, her cell phone began to ring. Her chest tightened when she saw the hospital name flash across the screen, nevertheless, curiosity gnawing away at her as she picked up the call.

[maria021015]

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 23 AHEAD!

At the sound of footsteps, Zaida turned with her muscles tensed, ready for another fight only to drop her guard when she saw it was Allison dressed in her black combat clothes and carrying her crossbow with her, aimed right at Zaida. “Oh, thank God it’s just you.” She laughed and waited for the girl to lower her weapon and explain what was going on with the hunters storming the place. Except Allison didn’t change her stance.

“Have you seen Derek?” The girl asked Zaida, but there was something off about the darkness in her eyes and the stiffness in her features that was unsettling.

“Yeah, the Kanima got to him - got to pretty much all of us - but don’t worry, he’s healing. Jackson was distracted by you guys arriving, so he should still be okay.” She answered. “Perfect timing, by the way.”

“Where is he?” Allison coldly ignored everything else that Zaida said, hyperfocused on the location of the alpha.

“Why? What’s going on with you, Ali? You totally disappeared from Lydia’s party.” Zaida’s brows furrowed in her confusion. Something was off.

“Tell me where he is!” Allison snapped, her finger twitching over the trigger of her weapon, which was still aimed at Zaida’s chest.

“Or what? You’re gonna shoot me?” The shorter brunette arched a brow jokingly until Allison’s lack of a reaction alerted her to the fact that what she had said was not far from the truth at all. “You’re taking the piss, right? You’re not actually going to shoot me…? Ali, what do you want with Derek?”

“If you aren’t going to tell me then just stop wasting my time and get out of my way.” Allison’s tone was as cold and unyielding as an iceberg.

“You’re gonna kill him, aren’t you?” Zaida came to the only possible conclusion for the huntress’ attitude and stood her ground. “No, I’m not going to let you do that.”

Allison tried to walk past her, but Zaida stepped directly into her path. The girl only tried to dodge around to the other side, but Zaida was just as fast to follow and block her once again. The muscles in Allison’s jaw clenched as her anger sparked. “If you don’t get out of my way, I’m going to have to make you.” She warned with a flash of apprehension behind her dark doe eyes. “Please don’t make me do this.”

“Ali, you might be furious with him right now - and I have no idea why - but you’ll regret it once your head clears. I’m not gonna let you live with that.” Zaida refused to move, knowing that Allison wouldn’t go through with her threats.

The crossbow shifted, lowering, and Zaida smiled, but in a split second her expression twisted into a scream of pain as Allison pulled the trigger and sent an arrow sinking into her thigh, right beside the half-healed crescent wounds of Derek’s claws just below the hem of her party dress. “You shot me!” Zaida gasped and stared at the girl, absolutely flabbergasted. “You actually fucking shot me, you bitch! What the hell?!”

“You’ll heal,” Allison sent her a half-shrug and walked around nonchalantly as Zaida sagged against the wall, her free hand clutching at her bleeding leg.

“What in the fiery pits of Tartarus has cursed this day?” Zaida sobbed to herself, tears rolling down her cheeks. In the span of an hour she’d been held hostage, paralysed, betrayed by her own flesh and blood - again - and shot by one of her best friends with a damn crossbow!

As the screech of the Kanima echoed from the direction Allison had run off to, Zaida staggered the opposite way, hissing in pain with each motion but still trying to find where Scott and Stiles had gone. She didn’t have to hobble about on her injured leg for long before she came across Stiles, dragging his own immobile form across the floor towards the holding cells, using only the strength of his arms to crawl forward. When the boy’s eyes landed on her they widened in horror, immediately sweeping to the bolt buried within her thigh.

“What happened?” He questioned in alarm, hating his inability to get up and run to help her.

“It’s a long story, and we need to find Scott now.” Her words came out in a huff between her ragged breathing.

“He left to look for you,” Stiles explained, craning his neck to look up at her from the ground. The sounds of crashing and screeching were now accompanied by the roars of wolves.

“Well I think he found someone else instead,” Zaida commented, grunting as she slid down the wall, leaving her leg straight and propping it outwards whilst she lowered herself to sit on the floor. “I need to get this out so I can heal, but…I can’t do it by myself.”

“I am really not the person to be asking for assistance with something like that.” Stiles wrinkled his nose in disgust at the oozing wound, managing to regain enough motion to haul himself into a sitting position beside her. His legs were now working up to his knees, and most of his upper body was functional.

“It’s not like I have a lot of options right now.” Her words dripped with sarcasm and the pain in her wince filled Stiles with enough determination that he reached out to grip the shaft of the arrow in his fist, the other hand bracing against her cold, blood-soaked skin. Normally something like this would make him faint, and he could feel the lightheadedness seeping in, the corners of his vision going dark and blurry. Just looking at Zaida’s face - completely drained of colour and twisted into a grimace - forced him to push through it and count.

“Is that for me, or you?” She joked, but he ignored her as he finished on ‘three’ and tugged the weapon out of Zaida’s flesh with all the strength and speed he could muster. She cried out and bit down on her bottom lip to smother the sound, drawing blood that glistened on her burgundy lipstick. When it was finally done she collapsed against his shoulder, closing her eyes to rest as the exhaustion of the night finally caught up to her. Using her powers, healing Derek’s claw marks, losing all that blood…It had taken everything she had out of her, and she still needed to finish healing this new gaping hole in her leg. Stiles tugged his flannel jacket off himself and bundled it up, pressing the wad of fabric against her thigh to staunch the bleeding. “I think…I just need a minute, and I’ll be good to go.” She mumbled, giving into that comfortable hazy feeling as it completely took over and the world around her faded away, leaving only the warmth of Stiles' body against her cheek.

When Zaida regained consciousness, she was lying in the back of Stiles’ Jeep across the row of seats, the boy’s blood-stained flannel wrapped around her leg, and Sheriff Stilinski’s heavy uniform jacket covering her bare legs like a blanket. Her tiny little black dress didn’t exactly leave much room for preserving her dignity. It was well into the early hours of the morning, judging by the dawn cracking just over the horizon, sending rays of warm pink light through the windows to illuminate her vision of Stiles in the driver’s seat, waiting for her to wake up and keeping watch over the car park. Zaida pushed herself into a seated position, the worn leather groaning beneath her ensnaring Stiles’ attention and causing the boy to whip his head towards her with wild amber eyes roaming her face to check if she was okay.

“You should be resting.” He warned her, but she ignored his words and pulled back the flannel to see smooth skin beneath, abandoning the fabric on the floor now that it was no longer needed.

“Sorry about your shirt.” She apologised groggily, but he brushed it off. “What did I miss?”

“After you passed out Scott managed to find us and help me get you into the car before anyone could notice you were hurt. Then we went back inside for our parents. Turns out, while we were otherwise occupied the Kanima attacked and Derek and Scott were forced to fight it in front of Melissa, so she saw everything and now she knows.” Stiles sighed heavily as if letting the weight of the information off his chest. “Scott took his mom home to try and help her come to terms with everything, and Dad was none the wiser. Matt and the Kanima escaped, and the hunters all cleared out pretty quickly. Your brother came by not too long ago and reported a crime scene. He said he got locked in an office and while he was climbing out of the window he saw Matt making a run for it and followed. By the time he got to him Matt was already dead - drowned in the lake under the wharf. He and my dad are just filling out the paperwork to shut the case, and I thought you might want to wait to see that Xander’s okay.”

“No.” Zaida’s heart leapt in her chest as the events of the night all came flooding to the forefront of her mind. “No, I can’t see him. We have to go. Stiles, please just drive. I don’t care where, just go.”

“Oh-” Stiles jumped at the urgency in her tone, not waiting to ask questions as he started the engine and pulled out of his parking spot. “Okay, I’ll take you to the apartment?”

“Not there!” She exclaimed, pulling her seatbelt and clicking it into position as the car pulled out onto the road. She tried to think of a place to direct him to, but she couldn’t go to Lydia’s - what with the party being shut down and the girl likely already being in trouble with her Mom because of it - and she certainly couldn’t go to Allison’s, which left… “Can I stay with you? I normally wouldn’t ask, it’s just…I have nowhere else to go.”

“Zay, there’s no way I’m leaving you where you’re not comfortable staying.” Stiles scoffed at the fact she thought she even had to ask. “Despite all his complaining, my dad loves you, and after tonight I’m sure he’ll understand you sleeping over.”

“Thank you,” She relaxed into the back seat, some of her panic mellowing out. She stared out the window and watched as the glowing street lights flew past them.

“Have you heard anything from Allison since her disappearance act at Lydia’s?” Stiles questioned casually and Zaida’s muscles stiffened at the sound of the girl’s name.

“Allison was there tonight.” She stated, her throat dry and voice rough. “She’s the one who shot me.”

“She what?!” The car suddenly jerked to the left as Stiles looked over his shoulder at her, swerving unintentionally and then correcting his fault.

“She was looking for Derek with literal murder in her eyes and she told me to move, but I didn’t. I didn’t think she’d actually…” Zaida trailed off, finding it a bit too raw and painful to talk about at the moment.

“Was she the one who locked Xander in that office?” Stiles tried to piece together the missing information, guessing entirely incorrectly.

“I’m the one who locked Xander in there. I froze the door shut.” She swallowed effortfully, trying to wet her throat. “He’s a hunter Stiles. He’s with the Argents. He knew this whole time - about werewolves, the Kanima, what I am, what happened to our parents…He’s always known, and he never told me. He was never going to, and he still won’t. I just…can’t look at him right now. I can’t be around him. I don’t even recognise my own brother anymore. I don’t know what to do.”

Stiles didn’t know what to say to that as he pulled into the driveway of his house and parked the Jeep. He and Zaida were both silent as they entered the house. Stiles retrieved Zaida a spare pair of grey sweatpants and a t-shirt, leaving the girl to shower off the blood. When she emerged she found him downstairs, watching Star Wars episode two on the living room couch. She joined him wordlessly, and instead of protesting when she leaned her head against his shoulder as she half-expected him to, he brought his arm around her shoulders and rested his own head atop hers. Needless to say, neither of them slept that night. How could anything go back to normal after this?

[m0us3rat]

“are you really sure about this place?” stephen asked skeptically, looking at the sign from inside the car. rex sat at the wheel, lydia in the passenger’s seat. matthew and stephen sat in the back, leaning to the middle to look at the motel.

CLOWN MOTEL, with multiple letters dark

“i mean, sure. there’s nothing else around,” rex replied, shrugging a little.

“rex, babe, i love you, but surely there’s another place,” lydia said, trying to make sense of the barely illuminated sign.

“do you want to drive?”

everyone in the car deflected the responsibility.

“it’s past midnight, let’s just stay here. rex is paying, though,” matthew decided, getting his bag from the floorboard.

everyone in the car agreed tiredly. rex stuck their middle fingers at their passengers as they got out and got their bag from lydia. “fuck all y’all!” they yelled.

at the front stand, the woman booking their rooms was clearly in her 50’s and a seasoned smoker. her blonde hair was fading under the flickering lights.

“we only got one room in this place with two beds. y’all okay with bunking up?” she asked in a croaky voice.

rex looked at stephen and matthew. they raised their eyebrows.

stephen and matthew looked at each other. they shrugged at each other and nodded.

“we’ll take it,” they said, voice worn from the drive. they handed their card to the woman and the quartet went to the room.

in the pathetic room, there were two beds and a small bathroom. the wallpaper was once pink and purple stripes, now just yellowed with age and grey from dust. the group agreed silently to keep their shoes on when they walked on the carpet. the two beds had yellow bedsheets on them with two pillows each. the room contained a multitude of clown pictures and paintings, all framed on the walls or on the nightstand between the two beds.

rex and lydia set their bags down on one of the beds, claiming it as theirs. “you two sure you want to bed together?” lydia asked as she took down her low pigtails.

“yeah, yeah, it’s no problem,” stephen said, waving his hand as he set down the bag. “if y’all are okay with it, i’m gonna head to the latrine and get changed.”

the trio bid him farewell as he went into the small room.

“rex, you’ve gotten us into some strange situations, but this is next level,” matthew said, looking at the large clown painting above his bed.

rex ran a tired hand through their curls. they clicked their tongue and nodded. “this one is a lot more…original than expected,” they agreed.

“i’ll say,” matthew replied, turning his gaze to yet another clown painting.

stephen walked out of the bathroom with a metallica shirt on with basketball shorts. his low-top converse remained on his feet. “y’all just guess what’s in that bathroom.”

“a clown painting?” the whole room replied.

“damn right! this place is givin’ me bad energy,” he said as he sat down on the bed.

matthew gestured for lydia to go on to the bathroom. lydia nodded and carried her backpack into the small room and clicked the lock.

“so, when are we thinking we’ll head out tomorrow?” rex asked, trying to make conversation.

“what time is it now?” matthew asked as he worked on unbuttoning his overshirt.

“12:47,” rex replied, holding their phone screen up for matthew.

matthew and stephen groaned. “when do we have to be gone?” matthew followed up.

“10.”

“so…9?” stephen asked, untying his shoes once he sat on the bed.

rex rubbed their face. “i guess. we all cool with traveling in our sleep clothes?”

matthew and stephen nodded.

“good. we can leave at 8 and grab breakfast some place,” rex said as their head darted to where lydia was walking out of the bathroom. her hair was down and her makeup was taken off. she wore the same paramore shirt with a pair of blue leggings with her hi-top converse.

“rex, i got a bone to pick with you,” she said. “this motherfucking place doesn’t have hot water,” she vented as she sat on the bed. “the bathroom is green. neon green with purple trim.” her nose was crinkled.

matthew walked in the bathroom.

“jesus,” they said, smiling a little. “this place is batshit.”

“you can say that again,” lydia said as she laid on the bed. “i hope g-d knows he is my only god because i am not getting in this carpet and saying the shema.”

“i’m gonna say it on the bed,” rex said with a shrug.

“want a kosher cookie?” she replied jokingly.

rex shrugged again. matthew came out of the bathroom in a blue shirt with matching plaid pajama bottoms. of course, he had a pair of slip-on sneakers on with the outfit.

rex walked into the bathroom last while the rest of the party got settled into their beds.

“rex’ll get the lights,” stephen said as he got into his bed. matthew got in beside him.

“you sure this is fine?”

stephen shrugged. “why wouldn’t it be? i don’t care.”

matthew shrugged and pulled the cover over himself. lydia sat up when rex walked into the room, wearing their radiohead shirt with black sweatpants. they turned out the bright light and got into bed, taking off their combat boots.

the two got on their knees and said the shema before getting in the covers.

“i hate this place and i’m considering leaving you over this,” lydia whispered.

“don’t blame you. have a nice life,” rex replied, kissing lydia on the end of her nose.

the next morning, the party of four was more than happy to rush out of the room. once they all had on their shoes and checked that they had all their clothes and phones and chargers, they checked out and piled back into stephen’s ford explorer.

lydia was brushing through her hair while rex was pulling out of the parking lot. rex was muttering the morning shema as they drove, yawning when they were done. the car was silent otherwise.

“what did we think of the clown motel?” rex asked, knowing the answer.

“i’m just impressed i didn’t get killed. it’s touch and go for a black gay man,” matthew replied, not looking up from his phone.

a look of realization washed over stephen’s face. “that’s why you kept asking if it was fine for you to share a bed with me! i completely forgot about that. whatever, it doesn’t matter, i’m bi,” he said.

“you’re WHAT?” the entire car yelled as rex stopped abruptly at a red light.

@outcastkingdom

[stephtuckerauthor]

They were panting by the time they reached the edge of the riverbank, their clothes clinging to their bodies as sweat poured from them. With her hands on her knees, she bent forward and tried as best she could to get her breathing under control before they continued. 

“We’re going circles,” she gasped, wiping the back of her hand across her soaked forehead. “We need to cross it.” 

“No!” he shouted, his stubbornness tugging at her last nerve; he was being a fool considering the situation they were in. “You’ve heard the stories, Lyds! Even if we try to cross it, we’ll never make it to the other side!” 

“We’re not gonna have a chance to even try at this rate!” she hissed back, their heads snapping back as the bushes and trees rustled behind them, an ominous growl coming from the overgrowth; they thought they’d have more time. Grabbing his hand, she pulled him towards the river. “C’mon, Bill! We’ve got no time!” 

The fear and adrenaline forced him to obey, Lydia tentatively placing the toe of her boot on the large stone before them. Satisfied it was sturdy enough to carry their weight, she crossed as quickly as she could, keeping her arms out beside her to keep balance. Bill followed suit quickly, the monster behind them getting closer by the second and he wasn’t about to hang around and get caught.  

The space between the walls was narrow and stifling. Tree limbs arched above them as they tiptoed along the stepping stones, unwilling to touch the inky black water below them. They’d heard the stories since they were small, their mother and father drilling into them the dangers of entering these woods alone; they knew what lived in the depths below them. All they had to do was make it to the other side without disturbing the surface and they would be fine. But how were they supposed to do that when they were being chased by that creature?! 

In the darkness shrouding them, they couldn’t see the water-soaked stone before them. The moment Lydia’s boot touched the surface of it, she fell with a shriek, disappearing below the water in an instant. 

“Lyds!” Bill cried, desperate to save her but terrified to jump in after her. It only took a moment or so for her to resurface, gasping for air and floundering in terror. “Lyds, grab my hand!” 

Keeping as steady as he were able, Bill crouched down and reached for his sister, the girl grabbing it tightly and almost pulling him in after. Bill watched in alarm as the water behind her began to ripple and he was sure he’d seen a fin disappear into the water. Not that, he thought, heaving Lydia to him with all his strength. Anything but that!  

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind did the wolf-man emerge from the brush, bounding right to the edge of the water but not daring to touch the stones and cross to them. He howled with rage, snapping in their direction and pacing back and forth. It horrified Bill that the monster was too scared of the thing below to come toward them and claim his prize. 

Suddenly, Lydia was pulled under once more and Bill tumbled in after her, sheer panic coursing through him as he tried desperately to break the surface. The water was black and he could see nothing. He shouted for Lydia but received no answer, only a lungful of disgusting water. He was coughing harshly as he resurfaced, breathing down lungfuls of air as he swam back to stone; had the stones seemed so far away before? 

He kicked his legs behind him but the cold was making his limbs stiff and tired. Long fingers wrapped around his ankle and he screamed, swallowing water as he was pulled below again. There was an odd, ethereal glow around the creature as he stared, motionless and wide-eyed. She smiled at him and pulled him closer, the boy too entranced by her magical appearance that he did not see her true, horrifying form. To him, the mermaid was perfection, beauty in its truest form. In reality, the being was hideous, long fangs pierced holes in its flesh and its upper body was twisted and deformed, its scales cracked and broken.  

Bill could not see the way she unhinged her jaw as he was lured towards her, her clawed fingers grabbing their way up his body until they were clinging to his upper arms. It was only when her fangs tore a chunk from his neck did he see it for what it was, a silent scream leaving him as she ate away at him, piece by piece, Lydia’s ravaged form floating behind her. 

They should have never gone into the woods alone… 

Xena’s Share Day

this one is for my lovely horror writers :) show me something scary. make me shiver and cringe! i wanna be unsettled!

*this is a horror prompt, so there may be difficult subjects included in shared snippets. read at your own discretion.

[militaryinclusivityresearch]

Over 200 Years of Service: The History of Women in the U.S. Military

From the battlefields of the American Revolution to the deserts of Kuwait, women have been serving in the military in one form or another for more than 200 years. They have had to overcome decades of obstacles to get to where they are today: serving in greater numbers, in combat roles and in leadership positions all around the world.

Here is a look at the history of women in the military, how their roles have changed over the years and how the USO has supported them since our founding as an organization in 1941.

Revolutionary War

Although women were not always permitted to enlist in the U.S. Armed Forces, many still found ways to serve their nation.

During the Revolutionary War, as colonial militias armed themselves and joined George Washington’s Continental Army, many of these soldiers’ wives, sisters, daughters and mothers went with them. These women traveled alongside the Continental Army, where they boosted morale as well as mended clothes, tended to wounds, foraged for food, cooked and cleaned both laundry and cannons.

Photo credit Library of Congress

After her husband was killed in battle, Margaret Corbin continued to fight from his post at Fort Washington.

Some women found ways to join the fight for independence. Margaret Corbin, for example, disguised herself as a man and traveled with her husband to the front lines of the Battle of Fort Washington, where she helped him load his cannon. When her husband was shot by enemy fire, Corbin carried on fighting, even after being shot three times. She was given a military pension in acknowledgment of her efforts, and years after her death was reburied at West Point with full military honors. Similarly, Deborah Sampson fought disguised as a man for years before her true sex was revealed. Other women, such as Lydia Darragh, also supported the war effort by spying on behalf of the Patriots.

However, women’s roles in the military became even more crucial during the Civil War, as their support expanded.

Civil War

During the Civil War, nearly 20,000 women lent their skills and efforts in everything from growing crops to feed Union troops to cooking in Army camps. Other tasks included sewing, laundering uniforms and blankets and organizing donations through door-to-door fundraising campaigns.

Photo credit U.S. Army Heritage and Education Center

Nurse Annie Bell with patients after the Battle of Nashville during the Civil War, circa 1864.

Notably, it was during the Civil War that women began to serve as nurses on a much larger and more official scale. Approximately 3,000 women served as nurses for the Union Army during the war. Legendary nurse and founder of the Red Cross Clara Barton even received a special “military pass” that permitted her to travel directly onto the battlefield, where she drove her medical wagons straight into the fray to tend to wounded soldiers. Fellow trailblazer Dorothea Dix was even appointed superintendent of the United States Army Nurses for the Union Army, leading her own “army of nurses” over the course of the war. Dix is remembered for pushing for high standards of behavior and training among her nurses, as well as providing ample opportunities for female nurses working in support of the military.

Meanwhile, some women even marched on the battlefields. Historians estimate that about 1,000 women disguised themselves as men and fought on both sides of the Civil War.

World War I

The 20th century changed everything for women in the military.

At the onset of the United States’ entry into World War I in April 1917, the U.S. Army Nurse Corps (ANC) – formally established in 1901 – had only officially been in existence for less than 20 years, and only had 403 nurses in its active-duty ranks. By June 1918, just over a year later, there were more than 3,000 American nurses deployed to British-operated hospitals in France. These nurses often worked in dangerous conditions near the front lines, caring for service members and civilians alike, and ensuring the health and safety of Allied troops.

Photo credit Library of Congress

American nurses care for injured soldiers in France in 1918.

However, WWI is also notable because it was the first time women – who did not yet have the right to vote – were allowed to openly serve in the U.S. military.

With large numbers of American men being sent to war overseas, the Armed Forces – and the U.S. Navy in particular – needed stateside replacements for the roles that were left behind. After finding a loophole in a naval act that would allow women to serve in non-commissioned officer and non-combat roles, the Navy enlisted its first “yeomanettes.” Around 12,000 women served in the rank of yeoman, mostly working clerical duties, as well as telephone and radio operators and translators.

Photo credit National World War I Museum and Memorial

Telephone operators – also known as “Hello Girls” – in the U.S. Signal Corps Female Telephone Operators Unit are pictured here working 3 kilometers from the trenches in France. Helmets and gas masks can be seen in their bags on the backs of their chairs.

Meanwhile, the U.S. Army Signal Corps enlisted women to work as telephone and switchboard operators. These women – nicknamed the “Hello Girls” – often worked very close to the front lines in France. They would not be recognized for their high-pressure work or their status as veterans until decades later, in 1979.

Then, only a few years after the War to End All Wars, World War II broke out and women’s roles continued to evolve with the rest of society.

World War II

WWII created an unprecedented need for service members. As more than 16 million Americans stepped up to serve on the front lines – the majority of those being men – the U.S. military was left with many non-combat roles that needed to be filled. So, the women of the United States stepped up too, and for the first time in history, all branches of the military enlisted women in their ranks.

Army: The Army formed the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps (WAACs), which was later renamed and restructured to form the active duty Women’s Army Corps (WACS). The branch also formed the Army’s Women Airforce Service Pilots (WASPS).

Navy: The Navy formed the Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service (WAVES).

Marine Corps: The Marines enlisted women in the Marine Corps Women’s Reserve.

Coast Guard: The Coast Guard formed the Women’s Reserve (SPARS), which stood for the Coast Guard motto, Semper Paratus – “Always Ready.”

In total, nearly 350,000 American women served in uniform during World War II.

These women took on non-combat roles in order to free up more men to fight. They continued to work clerical jobs as they did during World War I, but they also drove vehicles, repaired airplanes, worked in laboratories and cryptology, served as radio and telephone operators, rigged parachutes, test-flew planes and even trained their male counterparts in air combat tactics.

Photo credit U.S. Air Force

WACS at Bolling Field use a theodolite to obtain data on upper air flow of a balloon.

Women also served as nurses. 57,000 served in the Army Nurse Corps and 11,000 in the Navy Nurse Corps – and these roles were not without risk. Many of these women worked right on the front lines and came under enemy fire, and some even won combat decorations. Army Col. Ruby Bradley, a nurse in the U.S. Army Nurse Corps, was kept prisoner at an internment camp in the Philippines for 37 months, during which she remained steadfast in her calling as a nurse. She performed 230 major surgeries and delivered 13 babies during her time as a prisoner of war (POW), even under harsh conditions. In total, 432 women were killed in the line of service during World War II and 88 were taken as POWs.

Photo credit U.S. Army

In England in early 1945, WACS Maj. Charity E. Adams and Capt. Abbie N. Campbell inspect the first contingent of Black members of the Women’s Army Corps assigned to overseas service.

True to societal norms at the time, all branches emphasized the expectation of femininity within the ranks of women in the military throughout the war. Uniforms included skirts, not slacks, and nail polish, makeup and feminine hairstyles were not only allowed, but encouraged. But beyond this focus on femininity, these women were finally recognized as vital, enlisted members of the Armed Forces.

Photo credit National Archives and Records Administration

Two members of the Navy’s WAVES work on the engine of a North American T-6 Texan plane at Naval Air Station in Jacksonville, Fla. in 1943.

They risked their lives and were integral to American success in the war, and through it all, they faced challenges in navigating their new roles and overcoming discrimination in a male-dominated arena. After the war, many of these women would return home, hoping to continue their military career, only to find themselves pushed out of their roles so that the men returning from war could have them. Some women would struggle for decades to obtain veteran status or benefits for their service during WWII.

But because of their perseverance and dedication to service throughout the war, they helped pave the way for women in the military who would come after them.

Korean War

In 1948, three years after the end of World War II, President Harry S. Truman signed the Women’s Armed Services Integration Act into law, officially allowing women to serve as full, permanent members of all branches of the Armed Forces.

However, this was not a guarantee of equal opportunity. The act actually restricted the number of women who could serve to only 2% of each branch, and also limited how many women could become officers. Additionally, female service members could be automatically discharged if they became pregnant, and they were unable to command men or serve in combat positions.

But regardless of the obstacles that remained in female service members’ paths, the Women’s Armed Services Integration Act was still a step toward progress for women in the military. One month after the act’s passing, President Truman issued the Integration of the Armed Forces executive order, desegregating the military and ensuring that Black women could now serve equally in all branches of the military as well.

Photo credit National Archives and Records Administration

Medical personnel – including Army nurses – of the 8225th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital (MASH) with a H-13 helicopter in Korea in 1951.

And serve they did. Just two years later, the Korean War broke out, and 120,000 women would go on to serve in active duty positions from 1950-1953. Although they could not serve in combat, they undertook new roles such as military police officers or engineers.

Military nurses would also continue to play a critical role during this time. Mobile Army Surgical Hospitals (MASH) were heavily used during the Korean War, providing fully functioning hospitals in combat zones, where many nurses worked.

Just a few years later in the Vietnam War, these nurses would be called to the front lines once again.

Vietnam War

Approximately 11,000 women were stationed in Vietnam during the nearly 20-year war, and 90% of them were nurses in the Army, Navy and Air Force. Notably, most volunteered to go.

Photo credit U.S. Navy

U.S. Navy nurse Lt. Cmdr. Joan Brouilette checks the condition of a service member as she makes her daily rounds of the intensive care ward at the United States Naval Support Activity Hospital in Da Nang, South Vietnam in 1968.

During the Vietnam War, other female service members worked as air traffic controllers, intelligence officers and clerks – both at home and in Vietnam. In 1967, President Lyndon B. Johnson opened promotions for women to general and flag ranks and in 1972, women were allowed to command units that included men.

Photo credit Department of Defense (DoD)

In 1967, President Lyndon B. Johnson opened promotions to women to general and flag ranks.

The U.S.’ involvement in the Vietnam War came to a close in 1973 and two years later, the Pentagon announced that pregnant women could remain in the military.

The 80s, 90s and Today

At the end of the 20th century and the beginning of the 21st, there were a lot of “firsts” for women in the military: the first woman to become a Navy fighter pilot; the first female four-star general in the Army; and the first female rescue swimmer in the Coast Guard, among others.

Photo credit U.S. Naval History and Heritage Command

Cmdr. Rosemary B. Mariner, pictured in her A-7E at Naval Air Station, Lemoore, Calif. Mariner was one of the first six women to become a Naval aviator, and the first woman to command a naval aviation squadron.

There was even the first Silver Star awarded to a female soldier since World War II. Army Sgt. Leigh Ann Hester was awarded the military medal in recognition of her brave actions during an enemy ambush on her supply convoy in Iraq in 2005. She is also the first woman to ever receive the Silver Star for direct combat action.

Army Sgt. Leigh Ann Hester after receiving her Silver Star medal during a military awards ceremony at Camp Liberty, Iraq, in June 2005. | Photo credit U.S. Army/Spc. Jeremy D. Crisp

But it was not just the “firsts” that were impressive in these more recent years.

As more women broke through barriers and established themselves as capable service members working in defense of the nation, the list of “firsts” slowly became less noteworthy in comparison to the sheer number of women serving, as well as their significant contributions to their respective branches.

In the Gulf War, from just 1990-1991, more than 40,000 women deployed to combat zones, although they still could not technically serve in direct combat roles or assignments.

In 1994, President Bill Clinton rescinded the “Risk Rule,” essentially allowing women to serve in all positions in the military except for direct ground combat roles. This allowed for many more women to still engage in combat as aviators, sailors, Air Force personnel and other roles.

Photo credit U.S. Army/Staff Sgt. Steve Cortez

U.S. Army Chief of Staff Gen. Mark A. Milley congratulates Capt. Kristen Griest and U.S. Army Ranger School Class 08-15 during graduation at Fort Benning, Georgia on Aug. 21, 2015. Griest and class member 1st Lt. Shaye Haver became the first female graduates of the school.

Then, in 2013, then-Defense Secretary Leon Panetta announced that the ban on women in combat would be lifted entirely, and that female service members would be allowed to serve in direct ground combat roles. In 2015, this was put into action. This historic change opened up hundreds of thousands of jobs for women in the military and essentially ensured that as long as female service members completed the necessary training and requirements, they could now serve in almost any role in the U.S. Armed Forces.

U.S. Marine Corps Female Engagement Team members clear a hallway during military operations in urban terrain training in the United Arab Emirates (UAE) in January 2021. The team is comprised of all-female volunteers who work specifically with women and partnered forces to build trust and beneficial relationships while respecting cultural boundaries and customs. | Photo credit U.S. Marine Corps/Lance Cpl. Andrew Skiver

Since the opening of combat positions to women, several female service members have trained to step into these new roles. Over the past seven years, 100 women have graduated from the Army’s Ranger School and others have successfully completed Navy SEAL officer assessment and selection, proving their capabilities in even the most rigorous and challenging of assignments.

Women continue to make history in the military today, pushing boundaries and taking on more roles – and more prestigious roles – than ever before. More than 300,000 women have served in Iraq and Afghanistan since 9/11, more than 9,000 have earned Combat Action Badges and today, women make up 16% of our nation’s Armed Forces, serving in every branch of the U.S. military.

USO Support of Women in the Military

The USO has supported women in the military since our organization was first founded in 1941 and women first began serving in the Armed Forces.

The first USO centers of World War II initially included separate, private rooms within the centers for female service members only, so that the WACs, WAVES and SPARs (as they were referred to in their respective branches) could have a place of respite all to themselves. Eventually, the USO opened USO Service Women’s Clubs, which were built entirely for female service members and included special programming for women.

Photo credit USO Photo

Female service members in a USO lounge in Iowa in 1942.

Following the end of World War II, the U.S. military – and the USO – was forever changed. Women were now a crucial part of the nation’s Armed Forces, which meant that they were also a core part of the military community that the USO supports.

In the decades since, women have fought for the right to serve while pregnant, hold pilot roles, lead majority-male units, fight in combat and much, much more. Today, women serve in more roles – and in more prestigious roles – than ever before, and the USO is there at every step of their service journey.

From being there as a place to rest at the airport before they fly to basic training; to handing them a USO Care Package filled with female-specific hygiene items when they deploy overseas; to hosting a women’s-only event on the front lines of the Middle East; to inviting them to a USO Special Delivery baby shower when they are far from their support networks; to offering them a way to connect with their kids back home through the USO Reading Program; to helping them discover their next step as they leave the military with the USO Pathfinder® Transition Program, women in the military can always turn to the USO.

DeSimone, Danielle. “Over 200 Years of Service: The History of Women in the U.S. Military.” United Service Organizations, The USO, 28 Feb. 2023, https://www.uso.org/stories/3005-over-200-years-of-service-the-history-of-women-in-the-us-military.