#macy's haul | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

upsidedownwithsteve · 7 months

Text

A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [4.3K] 18+

THE TIMELINE

“All I want is nothing more, to hear you knocking at my door. ‘Cause if I could see your face once more, I could die as a happy man I'm sure. When you said your last goodbye, I died a little bit inside. I lay in tears in bed all night, alone without you by my side. But if you loved me, why did you leave me?”

- All I Want by Kodaline

III. LONG ISLAND, NEW YORK: 1922

Opening the side door to the manor was easy when everyone else was occupied in the foyer.

The whole house was still alive despite the early morning hour, the air still smelling of the fireworks that lingered, gunpowder and spilled champagne. There was broken glass in the kitchen, from cocktail saucers or the smashed chandelier in the hallway, Steve wasn’t sure. But it crunched under his leather shoes as he snuck into the dark scullery, empty of the help and the silver platters of food they’d spent the day making.

He could see the silhouette through the frosted glass, impatiently waiting as he fumbled with the brass lock, the vibrations of the trombones and sax from the floor above making the handle buzz in his fist.

Steve barely got a chance to look at you before you had flung yourself at him, arms around his neck and chests colliding. He laughed, a small catch in his throat leaving him breathless for a second, your enthusiasm contagious. You still smelled like work, like cigar smoke and other peoples perfume, expensive cologne and top shelf sherry. It clung to your beaded dress, to your skin and Steve liked these nights, he liked the challenge of making you his again, even when you really weren’t supposed to be.

“They’re still going?” You asked, your words muffled against his chest. You’d get lipstick on his white shirt but neither of you cared. Steve had learnt long ago how to hide it from the maids.

He hummed in confirmation, any words he wanted to say stolen by your lips, your hands climbing up past his neck and into his hair. You tugged at it, ruining the style, hating when he slicked it back for the sake of the parties you were never allowed to attend.

It was a ferocious kiss, the kind that smudged your lipstick onto his mouth, the kind that told him you wanted to claim what you could of him in the short time you were able. Steve groaned, responding in kind, his arms winding around your waist to haul you even closer to him, his lips parting for your tongue.

It never grew old, it never waned - this feeling. Every kiss like the first, every time like nothing he’d ever felt before, never like anyone else. Your touch sent something through his bones, a deep kind of love that felt older and stronger and more powerful than the earth itself. He saw you one day in the city, under the bright lights that lit up Times Square and something told him that you were made for him.

Not a voice, just a feeling, one that his friends scoffed at because you weren’t from any kind of money that his family would accept and your dress didn’t come from Macy’s. But you’d turned and caught his eye, lips painted the prettiest red, eyes all bright like you felt the same when you looked at him. Days had turned to weeks and first dates had turned into nights in his locked bedroom and he still remembered the first time you pressed your ruby lips to the side of his throat and told him you were sure the gods themselves created him for you.

You kissed him now like you were remembering those words, your small hands diving into the already open collar of his white shirt, his black tie slipping from his neckline and you kissed that same spot, two moles that you claimed were somehow yours. They seemed to burn when you touched them, every pass of your lips and tongue making him feel weaker and weaker. And when you bit down a little, teeth grazing, Steve didn’t even notice the rain that had started to fall outside.

He felt feverish with you, greedy and desperate and never able to get enough. The brass band that his mother had hired for the evening started up another song, the China plates in the pantry cabinets rattling from the dancing feet above. He was on borrowed time, he knew that. So he let his tongue lick over your own once, twice, three times more before he pulled away, just enough to get his words out. You were as breathless as he was, too pretty in the dim light with your perfectly done make up, the pearls around your neck that no one knew came from him. Your dress made you glitter and from the faded lipstick around your mouth, Steve knew the majority was stamped on his own lips, his neck, his jaw.

The idea of it made him hold you tighter.

Thunder rumbled, a storm moving in over the lake outside the manor, the small yacht that was docked by the boathouse dipping with the current.

“Let’s go,” he murmured, kissing at the corner of your mouth between words. “Before they need to come for more champagne.”

So you let him pull you out of the kitchen, despite how well you knew the house you were never supposed to be invited into. Steve took your hand and led you like a secret, peering around corners before running past open doors, each room bigger than the last. The manor was all cherry oak floorboards and velvet drapes. There were chaise lounges in every bay window, baby grand pianos under crystal chandeliers and Steve’s father made sure the golden bar carts were always stocked and kept in every room.

The party was still thrumming in the largest lounge, where the hired band stood on the curved stairs and people danced on the tables. The glass doors were opened to the pool, a bright blue rectangle in the otherwise dark night and flecks of gold confetti lay atop the water, never sinking, looking like real life magic.

People spilled from everywhere, women shoeless and men missing their dinner jackets, hand in hand with girls that weren’t their wives and some of the richest of them showed their greed with a scantily clad dancer on each arm.

A door opened to the right, a server who was working well past his paid hours, still in his suit and carrying a large tray of champagne saucers, his expression bored. Steve grabbed you before the man could spot you both, tugging you behind a marble bust of a Grecian goddess, a piece of art that should’ve been in a museum.

The vacant eyes and kind smile of Aphrodite stared back at you both, seemingly amused at your lover's embrace, the one you had to hide.

“We’re not going to make it upstairs,” you whispered. It was too easy for Steve to let your touch linger on his waist, fingers tracing his belt, greedy and searching beneath his crumpled shirt for the feel of his warm skin. He needed you yesterday. He needed you always. “They’ll see us before we reach your room.”

Steve winced, knowing you were right. He could hear his mother from the lounge, singing too loudly, calling for another glass, her laughter making his jaw tense. “Library,” he said, nodding towards the door across the hall. “C’mon.”

You both made a run for it when the hallway seemed clear, the party goers too drunk to make out your faces, to recognise the girl that wasn’t supposed to be here, who certainly wasn’t supposed to be hand in hand with the man that wasn’t meant to be hers.

Steve closed the door with a soft click, turning the brass key in the lock just to make sure. The music was duller from behind the thick oak, the shelves and forest green curtains that draped along the walls. The library smelled like rich wood and old cigar smoke, older books and leather. It was stuffed with wingback armchairs, low lights from behind emerald glass lamp shades and dark, dark wood. A large fireplace took centre stage in the middle of the room, family photos and golden candlesticks along the mantle, the clock huge gilded mirror above it showing you and Steve standing together.

Outside the stained glass window, lightning flashed in the distance, the lake turning white, just for a second.

You didn’t have time to worry about the storm, nor think too hard about its sudden appearance. They’d always scared you, the too loud sounds, the crashes that seemed to vibrate in your bones, the lightning that always appeared way too close. Steve moved to stand behind you, his hand coming to smooth the collar of your dress away from your neck so he could dip his head down to kiss your skin.

His lips were a warm trail over your throat, his nose pressed underneath your jaw and you felt his smile when you tipped your head for him, granting him access. His hands, always so big and wide, spanned the sides of your waist, the beads and crystals that hung from your dress singing a soft song at his touch.

“Missed you,” he breathed, running the tip of his nose underneath your ear. He sucked at your throat, biting softly and you could only watch in awe as you stood in front of the mirror. “I missed you so much, honey.”

You knew why you hadn’t gotten to see him in so long. Eight whole days of being apart, seeing him in the city when he took his car to work, always flanked by business partners or his father. Worse still, you saw him one Saturday morning with his mother, another woman on his arm, a stiff smile on his lips as they entered a tea house. You knew the woman’s name, you just didn’t like to say it. His future wife, although Steve liked to remind you that they weren’t yet even engaged. But his mother was sure of it, the agreement made like a business deal because her father was head of the bank and Steve’s mother liked money.

A loveless marriage, set up for wealth, for survival, for good genes and even better business opportunities. But you saw the way the other woman looked at Steve, blown out curls and peach coloured lips always smiling up at him, ready to give him children and more.

A housewife. Ready made and picture perfect. The very thing that you were not.

“I missed you too,” you whispered back, unable to help it the way your voice cracked because long gone was the idea that you could pretend this wasn’t anything more than a fling.

You ached without the man. The longer you were apart the harder it became, a pain growing between your chest like an open wound that was pulled too tight. And now, as his hands trailed your hips and his lips found your jaw, you could feel it knitting itself closed, a pretty, red string tying the cut closed.

You’d seen the other woman, you knew what was meant to happen. You knew you’d lose him, eventually. That he’d no longer be yours. He’d have a ring on his finger and children with someone else and live in a house even bigger than this one and you’d never, ever be snuck in through a back door again.

It didn’t seem fair. It didn’t seem right. There was nothing in the world that you’d ever felt that was yours. No real money, different jobs for different months, an apartment above a bookstore in Brooklyn that you had to share with three other girls and even the dress you wore was borrowed.

But Steve? Steve Harrington?

It felt like someone created him just for you. Carved from marble, drawn on a canvas and brought to life, a man beyond perfect. Because he had his flaws - just like so many others that you’d dated - but you accepted his with more love than you’d ever felt before. The world seemed to still when you were with him, the entire planet slowing on its axis just so you could savour his touch a little longer.

You lay in his bed, in his arms, wrapped in his expensive cologne and cotton sheets and you knew.

You knew.

You knew that there was no way there was anyone else in this world that you were supposed to be with. His hand fit in yours too well, his lips slotting between your own like they were made from the same thing.

From a time before, when someone or something decided to create the Earth and built you both from the same bone.

Steve spoke into the crook of your neck, his finger spanning wide as his hands travelled over the front of you, feeling every curve, the softness of your stomach, the beads of your pretty dress, the dip of your waist. “You know, sometimes I think it would hurt less to drown in the lake than go without you,” he whispered, eyes closed as if at confession, murmuring his sins and secrets into your skin.

He kissed your throat again, revelling in the way your head fell back to top against his shoulder. Your eyes shut, your lips parted, your body trusting him to hold you up. “That’s awfully melodramatic,” you said airily.

Steve hummed, the ghost of his smile on your jaw. “Isn’t it? But it’s true. I’ve missed you more than I can understand.” He nudged you forward then, took the zipper at your shoulder blades between his fingers and tugged. “I needed you in my bed, in my sheets. They don’t smell like you anymore.”

You bit your lip, refusing to give into the questions that were bitter tasting and stuck in your throat: “has she been in them? Do they smell of her? Does she know about me?”

Because Steve pulled fully at your zipper and you shrugged your shoulders, letting the dress fall to the wooden floorboards, you turned in his arms and saw his eyes. Full of love, sadness, complete adoration and something else that you’d never seen in another man’s before. You were almost naked before him, blush pink undergarments made of silk and lace taught across your skin, silken thigh highs held up by suspenders, all costing an entire paycheck.

Steve wasn’t even looking at them, not yet. His hands went to your face, fingers cupping your jaw so gently that you even thought to yourself, that you might just break. It felt like it. His thumbs smoothed away the worry etched on your skin, frown lines disappearing under his touch and when he breathed out, you breathed in.

Sometimes you wondered if you shared the same heart.

“I love you,” he told you, his forehead pressed to yours.

You nodded, a tear slipping down one cheek and Steve kissed it away. “I love you, too.”

“Desperately,” Steve reminded you, bringing his mouth to yours. His kiss was feverish, pulling away too quickly before descending on you again, lips parted, tongue swiping across your own. “Insanely,” he groaned.

Your back hit a bookshelf as you tugged his shirt out of his trousers, the linen crumpling in your hands, a button hitting the floor when you became too impatient. Your fingertips traced the red lipstick marks on his neck, the ones that had smudged onto his clavicle and it was everything you needed to see and more.

A brand, hardly permanent, but yours nonetheless. If not just for tonight.

“I need you,” you told him, your skin on fire as his hand found your thigh. He pushed you into the spines of the books, cold leather on your skin as he hitched your leg to his hip and rolled his own against you. “Steve.”

“I know,” he murmured and his voice was hoarse, weak sounding. “I know, honey,” Steve assured you.

His belt rattled as it fell apart in your hands, the buckle cool to the touch and before you could push your hand into his underwear, Steve spun you both. You found yourself against one of the armchairs, tweed and plush, Steve kissing you from shoulder to shoulder as he stood behind you and coaxed your hands onto the back of it.

“Hold on,” he told you and you nodded, eyes half opened from the anticipation. You heard his zip, the slick sound of him stroking himself and you keened, impatient. Steve tutted and just as your eyes slipped shut, his fingers were under your chin, his bare chest curving along your back. “Eyes open, sweetheart. Look up. Watch yourself.”

Staring straight ahead, you saw how he’d positioned you both. In front of the fireplace, where the huge mirror hung above. You could see yourself, a scandalous sight, half naked and dripping in expensive lace, one strap of your brassiere falling from a shoulder. Smudged lipstick, darkened eyes and the most handsome man in Long Island draped over your frame.

Steve was pressed against your ass, his cock waiting hot and hard against your lower back as he moulded himself to your body. He was kissing your shoulder, mouth open and his jaw and neck decorated in your lipstick. His hair was already a mess, his white shirt hanging open and his hands wandering up your bare stomach to cup your breasts, finding your nipples through the silk almost too easily.

His eyes, half lidded and heavy with lust, found yours in the reflection of the mirror.

It was sinful.

“Watch what I do to you,” he said.

So you did.

You let the man push a knee between yours, spreading your legs for him so he could work his fingers into your underwear. You shivered as he talked you through it, telling you how wet you were, how good he knew you tasted. How he could spend days and nights and entire weeks between your thighs, how we wished he could have you on his tongue. Two fingers, achingly and annoyingly gentle, rubbed circles to your clit as he spoke, his eyes on your own the entire time and you felt too hot under his stare, his smile that grew when you gasped and whined.

He reared back when he pushed a finger into you, his other hand braced against the small of your back and he urged you to please him in a voice that sounded like sex itself. Steve was choked, his words tight in his throat and they came out in a rasp, pleading as he fucked two thick fingers in and out of your cunt.

“Let me see you,” he begged, his eyes taking down your frame and he groaned, almost too loud, when you dragged the cups of your bra down. Your tits were pushed against the back of the chair, moving with each motion his fingers made inside of you, the slow rock that had begun as Steve rolled his cock against your ass.

“Beautiful,” he told you, and he sounded like he was kneeling at an altar, talking to a god. “You’re so beautiful. You’re mine—”

“Inside me,” you interrupted. You were close to tears, your eyes glassy, everything too much. You felt as if you’d die if you didn’t have him closer. “Steve, I need you— I need you inside me.”

Outside, rain slammed against the large window, the lake nothing but a grey-blue blue behind the streaked glass. The wind howled and if you’d cared to listen, you would’ve heard the faint shrieks and laughs of the party-goers as they fought against the wind, trying to close the patio doors. Thunder cracked above the house, as if disagreeing, as if fighting back.

You didn’t hear any of it over the sound of Steve moaning in your ear as he slipped his cock against your folds, the head nudging once, twice at your clit before he pushed his hips back and slid into you. He fell forward, feeling like a man who’d been broken down and fixed again, his head on your shoulder as he wound his arms around your waist. You were held, truly held against him, feeling full and loved and adored as he whispered every sweet word he knew into your skin.

The two of you stayed like that for minutes, maybe a few longer than you realised, before it became too much. You whined, a needy sound that made Steve’s cock twitch inside of you and then you were being hauled up with him. The two of you standing behind the chair, your back to his chest and as the thunder grew louder and the windows rattled, you both gave in.

Your hands found home in Steve’s hair, reaching up and back to ground him to you, one of his hands moving your knee up to rest on the chair, opening you for him. Your pretty pink underwear was stretched out, allowing room for his cock to slip into you further. It was a dirty grind, you barely pushing your hips back as Steve snapped his into your own, his hand on your neck as he kept you facing forward, your eyes locked on each other.

His kisses became more lips than teeth, biting at your jaw, your earlobe, his fingers only leaving your throat to play with your bouncing tits, pinching at your nipples until you clenched around him. It was raw, dirty, watching each other in the mirror like that, seeing how wet you were with your legs spread open, Steve’s cock shining from you in the low light as it disappeared inside of you over and over and over again.

“Could stay like this,” Steve gasped, fucking you faster now. The sight of your body slack against his had him reeling, your perfume on his skin, your lipstick on his throat. “Could stay like this forever, could hold you forever, want you forever—”

His words were cut short as you came suddenly, clenching around him with a cry, your eyes shut tight in bliss and your head thrown back on his shoulder. You tugged at his hair, pulling him down, silently begging for a kiss that he gave you, a slow, deep push of his mouth to your own and he came with a wrecked noise when you breathed his name against his parted lips.

Steve had barely softened inside of you when he spoke. “Run away with me.”

You weren’t sure you heard him above the harsh breaths leaving both your lips, chest heaving and body’s lax against each other. His lips traced the line of your jaw, his mouth finding the corner of your own, he kissed you, once, twice, three times, his arms pulling you into his embrace and you could smell his cologne, the remnants of cigar smoke, sex and you.

“Run away with me,” he whispered again. “Let’s just go, we can— we can leave. Tonight.”

“Steve—” your voice was already pained and you slipped from his arms, fixing the lace until your skin was covered, watching as Steve tucked himself back into his dress pants. He left his shirt open as you searched the floor for your dress, his lips twisted with the rejection he knew that would come. “You know we can’t—”

“I want to spend forever with you,” he said and you knew he meant it.

Maybe the sky did too, because the rain fell heavier and lightning flashed across the lake, turning the world ultraviolet, just for a second.

“We can’t,” you said sadly, your voice a whisper. The words cracked in your mouth. “You’re not mine to keep.”

Steve watched you drag your dress up your legs, the unshed tears glittering in the corners of your eyes. His breath left him in a heavy gasp, like someone had punched him in the chest.

“But I am,” he told you, his chest heaving, burning. He blinked, eyes stinging, his vision blurring. The sky above the house cracked. “I am yours.”

It hurt to say it but you shook your head and spoke anyway, your eyes fixed on the way your lips had left tattoos on Steve’s skin. You were all over him still, even separated by five feet. And still— “you’re Nancy’s.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “You’re Nancy Wheeler’s and she is yours and that’s— that’s how it’s meant to be.”

Steve shook his head, moving forward with his shirt still hanging open, his hair curling across his forehead and his hands caught your own. “No. No, no, no—” he look pained, fingers reaching up to brush across your damp cheek and you should’ve pulled away. But you couldn’t. “No. That’s not— it’s not like that. You know this.”

Steve bent, lips finding the corner of your mouth as you moved out of guilt, his touch chasing you. He made a noise of protest, ducking his head closer until he could steal a kiss and you bent to his will, lips yielding under his own he tasted like you, like sex and like home, like something you felt you’d know your entire life and maybe the one before too.

“Run away with me,” he murmured into the kiss, forehead touching yours. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know that he was crying, his voice wet, cracking like the clouds outside and when lightning struck the dock on the bay, he pulled you closer. “We’ll find somewhere else for us. Another town, another country. Another home, another life.”

You kissed him then, stole the words from his lips and swallowed them, kept them locked somewhere close to your heart and you knew you had to hold onto them. For as long as you could. Forever, if you had to.

“Maybe,” you started, voice hitching, “—maybe we weren’t supposed to have this life.”

Steve groaned, a soft sound of agony, of protest. The storm was passing, the party louder than before. He hated how this felt like a goodbye.

“Maybe, we just need to promise that we’ll find each other in the next one.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve Harrington fanfiction #steve Harrington oneshot

589 notes · View notes

h0rror-m0viesx · 8 days

Text

Byłem dzisiaj na zakupach i macie taki mini haul (czy jak to się nazywa xd)

135 notes · View notes

oneforthemunny · 11 months

Text

candy caned |dom!eddie munson x sub!reader|

prompt: you’re desperate to make eddie’s trailer more festive for the holidays. you bring over decorations, but eddie is only interested in one- a long, plastic candy cane.

apart of the twelve days of dom!eddie's christmas

contains: smut. 18+. dom/sub themes, hints at brat tamer/brat themes. spanking with implements (candy cane lol). role play-ish?? not really established but kinda alluded to it a little. aftercare. minors dni, read at your own discretion.

A cloud of smoke left Eddie’s lips, corners of his mouth pulling up into a half lipped smirk. Your car propelled over the gravel of the trailer park’s makeshift road, a playful beep of your horn. Eddie gave a small laugh, the air in front of him clouding at the contrast. He could hear the droning of George Michael’s Last Christmas, muffled from your car stereo but a reminder of why you were here.

Eddie bummed the cigarette when you turned off the ignition, the radio silencing but that didn’t stop you. “Last Christmas, I gave you my heeearrrttt.” Your door swung open, voice trilling out into the quiet, rainy park. Eddie grinned, shoving his hands in his utility jacket, starting down the groaning steps of his trailer.

“But the very next day,” You wiggled your brows at Eddie playfully, a toothy grin on your face that made his chest fill with a surge of heat. “C’mon, Ed, you know it!” You pouted playfully.

“Yeah, I do. Everyone on planet fuckin’ Earth knows it.” Eddie snorted, heavy work boots nudging your own Sorels. His hands found your cheek, pressing a soft, full lipped kiss to your warm skin. The nicotine on his breath made your head spin, melting into his touch.

Eddie’s lips quirked, fighting back a smile. “Still not singing it, though.” He muttered, fingers squishing your cheeks together playfully, pivoting towards your trunk.

The huff you gave did make him grin. “Such a Scrooge.” You clicked your tongue in disapproval. “No holiday spirit at all.”

Eddie waited by the trunk, eyes shining in amusement while you unlocked your trunk. His eyes widened, gaping at you in disbelief. “You’re shitting me.”

“What?” You frowned, reaching for the bundle of lights, tangled from the half-hearted place in your apartment’s pitiful storage.

“Baby,” Eddie blinked, positively confounded. When you’d suggested bringing some decorations over, he expected a few knick-knacks, maybe a tiny tree. Not the trunk full of Christmas decor, looking like something straight out of a Macy’s display window he’d pass in the city.

“There’s… This is a lot.” Eddie tried not to sound as horrified as he felt.

You frowned at him over your shoulder, hauling the tote bag with your Zellers Christmas Village in it over your arm. “You said you didn’t have anything.”

“I don’t.” Eddie nodded, scanning over the tubs- tubs, plural- of ornaments. “But-But you didn’t have to bring all of this. What about your place?”

You rolled your eyes lightly. “I barely stay there.” It was true, you’d slowly migrated into Eddie’s space over the months, staying more and more. “And you have more space. More decorating room.” The smile you gave him was bright, dazzling and excited.

Eddie’s was… less enthusiastic, a mix between a grimace and dread. Still, he grabbed the box of stacked ornaments, the glass rattling as he walked up the stairs, following your giddy steps into the trailer.

“No! Not so close to the edge!” You shrieked, Eddie nearly dropping the snowman figurine in his hand.

He’d been a good sport, he really had. Eddie didn’t complain when you handed him the tangled lights. He kept his snarky comments to himself when you had him fluff out the tree branches to the plastic tree. He’d come close to snapping when you busted out the Elvis Christmas album, but he didn’t- he tuned it out, focused on anything else.

The trailer was transformed, a Christmas wonderland, complete with the final touches of the snowmen and Santas on the window ledge. You pushed the snowman back, tilting it to your satisfaction, nodding with approval.

Eddie let you. The two of you had established a ‘system’- he’d put it out, and you went behind him and fixed it how you wanted it. “What about these, baby?” Eddie hummed, picking up the bundle of plastic, long candy canes. “These go on the tree?”

“No,” You shook your head, placing the last figurine on the window. “They go outside. We can do them when it’s not raining.”

Eddie turned the candy canes around in his hand, thin and spindly, intertwined plastic red and white that were long. He pulled one out by the hook, shaking it gently- testing it. Eddie brought it down, the swoosh whistling just barely over the music from his boombox.

“Don’t break them.” You frowned, twisting an ornament so it faced forward. “Just put them to the side. We can do them tomorrow if you want.”

Eddie stayed quiet, brows pinched together, tongue rolling over the inside of his cheek. You paused, watching him carefully as he studied the cane.

“You know what?” Eddie hummed, his eyes still on the red and white cane in his hand. “I think I have an idea.”

“What?” You looked at him, scanning the room for any spare place for the decoration.

“I can think of something better to do with this.” Eddie’s lips curled, intriguingly dark. “It would really get me in this whole most wonderful time of the year mood.” His tone animated, dark and mocking the way it was when he played DND with his friends, when they were about to be presented with a dangerous risk of a choice. It made your heart skip.

“What?” You repeated, brow quipping, waving your hand for him to continue.

Eddie’s eyes lit up, twinkling with excitement under the glow of the colorful strands on the tree. He lifted the cane, cutting it through the air with a satisfied swish!, holding your gaze with a darkened look of desire.

Your tummy flipped, heat rushing through your core, thighs pressing together at the insinuation.

Eddie lifted a brow. “Think you need it. Probably on the naughty list. Aren’t ya, baby?” He purred, spinning the cane in his hand. You squirmed under his gaze, fidgeting with the sleeves of your sweater.

“‘M not.” You shuddered, shrinking under Eddie’s greedy gaze. “I’ve been very good this year.”

Eddie sucked in a dramatic breath through his teeth, stalking towards you until he was towering over you. “Hmm, that’s not what I heard, sweetheart.” Eddie muttered, nose nearly touching yours.

Your knees tightened, wobbling with excitement. “Good news is,” Eddie started, letting the candy cane slide through his hands, brushing over your own. “It’s not too late. Can correct you now. Teach you a lesson and make sure you’ll be extra good.”

This wasn’t exactly what you were expecting after decorating. You had hoped the decor would maybe bring some holiday spirit to Eddie, and in a way… it did?

“I want to be a good girl.” You squeaked, tiny and breathy tone that had Eddie’s cock twitching in his jeans.

“Yeah? I can tell.” Eddie nodded, hands clamping around the plastic decoration. “I can make sure you are.” Eddie’s hand reached for your jaw, fingers splaying over your cheeks, pulling your gaze to him. “You just gotta ask me.”

You whimpered behind closed lips, the throb between your legs growing and growing. Eddie tilted his head, curls silhouetted by the tree’s lights. He looked nearly angelic, so pretty- it was so deceiving.

“C’mon,” Eddie rasped, thumb stroking over your cheekbone delicately. “Ask me to help you be a good girl.”

You squirmed in his touch, eyes casting down. His hand caught your jaw quickly, pulling your gaze to him. “Please…” You swallowed, heart thumping from the thrill of anticipation. “Please, help me be a good girl? I wanna be a good girl.”

Eddie smiled, satisfied. A gentle, affectionate squeeze to your cheeks. “Alright, I’ll help you.” He nodded, stepping back from you. His arms crossed over his chest, candy cane in his left hand, dangling loosely in his grasp.

“Strip for me.” Eddie nodded, tongue running down his cheek, taking in your frame. Your red sweater, cropped and positively festive.

Your hands quaked with anticipation, unbuttoning your jeans carefully, shoving them so they pooled at your sock clad feet. Eddie watched you, leaning cooly against the couch, eyes roaming your frame until you were just in a high cut, cotton thong and lacy bra- his favorite. He had helped you pick it out, snuck in the dressing room when the snobby lingerie store manager stepped away so you could model it for him.

You looked at him, arms down by your sides, the way he’d taught you to. Eddie lifted a brow, head bobbing at you. “C’mon, keep going.”

“All of it?” You whined. “Eddie, can I keep my panties on please? You know I hate the cane-”

“-All of it.” Eddie snapped firmly. “You wanna be good? You’re not acting like you wanna be good. Still acting like a brat. Still acting like a naughty girl.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, lip jutting out in a pout that had Eddie’s abs clenching at the throb in his cock. You knew what you were doing, giving him your most pitiful, pouty look to drive Eddie wild. It was working.

Eddie’s brow lifted, a final warning that he was done arguing, eyes flicking down to your panties, heart skipping when your fingers hooked around them, pulling them slowly down your legs.

Your hands found your sides again, palms twitching with excitement, smoothing down the top of your bare thighs. Eddie waited until your eyes lifted to his, holding your gaze for just a touch too long- long enough to have you squirming with anticipation.

“Bend over the couch for me. Hands in front.” Eddie nodded, his voice dropping into that dark rasp it always did when he’d step into this domineering role with you.

The faded green carpet lacked it’s usual softness, coated with glitter from the decor and you hadn’t got a chance to vacuum yet. The usual crocheted blanket was folded over the arm of the couch, a reindeer throw pillow next to it. You set the pillow in front of you, so you’d have something to grab onto, bending over the arm of the couch.

Your eyes stayed forward, Eddie’s hum of approval muffled out by his heavy soled footsteps moving closer to you. “Hm, how many strokes does a naughty girl deserve?” Eddie sighed animatedly. He was putting on a show for you, for him too.

“What do you think?” Eddie tapped the side of your hip lightly with the cane, dragging the cool plastic over your ass.

You shuddered, the hook of the candy cane ghosting over the crack of your cheeks. “I don’t know, sir.” You grit, eyes closing, fighting the quake in your voice. “Three?”

“Three?” Eddie scoffed, halting his movements, the hook side of the cane pressed against the fatty flesh under your ass. “Try again, sweetheart.”

“I don’t know.” You whined, toes wiggling into the carpet. You were throbbing, dizzy with the desire for Eddie to touch you, spank you, fuck you- do something to you.

“Hm, better watch it, naughty girl.” Eddie hissed, eyes narrowed in on your ass. He pressed the cane up, lifting your cheek so he could sneak a peek at your puffy lips, already slick with your own arousal. “Can see why you got on the naughty list. Little bratty thing, aren’t ya?”

“‘M not.” You pouted, chin dropping into your outstretched arms.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s true.” Eddie tsked, the cane moving closer and closer to your pussy. “And I think you should get a stroke for every month you were naughty this year. Twelve.”

You squirmed, hips wiggling and rocking in place. Eddie grinned, smoothing a hand over your spine. You jumped, relaxing under the familiar touch. “How’s that sound?” Eddie muttered, tapping your shoulder blade gently.

You turned back, chin hooking on your shoulder to meet his gaze. “Twelve?” Eddie asked, his hand still rubbing over your spine soothingly, like he did every night to lull you to sleep.

It made your heart swell with a warmth that had your cheeks burning with tingly heat. “Yeah.” You whispered, squeaking at the small squeeze Eddie gave your hip.

Eddie’s hand rubbed back down your spine, setting the candy cane on your upturned ass, shedding his sweatshirt slowly. “Think you’ll remember to be good this year after this?” Eddie questioned, tossing his sweatshirt on the chair behind him.

“Yes, sir.”

“You know what happens next year if you’re not good, right? If you’re on the naughty list again?” Eddie grabbed the cane slowly, dragging it over your ass and thighs.

“No, sir, I don’t.” You choked out, clenching the pillow in front of you.

“You get double.” Eddie said surely, bringing the cane down behind you. You felt the air on your skin, knees tightening with expectancy, the lingering threat looming closer and closer. “After that, I’ll just have to come down here every month. Cane you and make sure you get a monthly reminder to be good.”

You whined behind closed lips, hips lifting at the threat. Eddie grinned, lining the candy cane up to your ass. “And believe me, if I have to come down every month, take time outta my schedule to teach you a lesson, I won’t be as nice as this. You better consider yourself lucky this time. Better learn from it.”

“I will.” You panted, arms shaking from how hard you were clenching them. “I’ll be good from now on. I promise.” You sounded so sweet. Tone so airy and pouty and adorable, that tone that made Eddie’s vision blurry with desire.

“Good.” Eddie nodded, tapping the cane against your ass. “I’ll make sure of it. Count ‘em out for me, baby.”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in through your nose. The cane pulled back, a whoosh! filling the air before it was snapping into your skin, a biting sting from the plastic spreading in a line across your cheeks. Your hips jumped, a tiny huff of a whine leaving your lips at the shock. It wasn’t nearly as unpleasant as the wooden cane Eddie used in the past, but still uncomfortable.

“One,” You breathed out through gritted teeth.

Eddie lined up the cane again, higher this time, before it was pulled back and sailing onto your bare skin, harder. Hard enough to have your head snapping up, toes bouncing off the carpet.

“Two!” You squeaked, Eddie’s hand on the small of your spine to steady you.

He watched you carefully. If this was the normal cane, you’d be crying by now- sniffly in the least. He lined it up lower, where your ass met your thighs. He lifted his hand, bringing the cane down with the type of strength he used with his hard soled slipper, hard and quick, pulling the sound he was looking for right out of you.

The yowl, punched straight out of your core, back arching and hips wiggling away. “Ow! Ow! Three!” You hissed, a white knuckled grip on the pillow. Your nose burned, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes now, the sting was searing now, leaving a sizzling sting that had you bouncing from foot to foot.

Eddie smirked in satisfaction, stilling you again with his hand firm on your lower back. “You learning your lesson?” Eddie grunted, the candy cane falling back down again, that white line imprinting your skin before disappearing, your cry following like clockwork.

“Yes!” You whined, and the petulant, bratty foot stomp that followed had Eddie’s cock lurching. “Four!”

“You’re gonna be really good this year, aren’t ya?” Eddie growled.

Swish!

“Yes! I’ll be good! I’ll be good!” You groaned, a watery, pathetic wail. “Five!” You bounced from toe to toe over the couch, hips shaking like you could possibly shake the sting out that way. The ache between your legs was blinding, rivaling the sting growing furiously on your backside.

Another stroke came before you were ready, quicker than the last time but just as unforgivingly searing. You cried out, a bubbling sob that tore from your throat. “You gonna make me do this again? Gonna be on the naughty list again?”

“Noooo,” You cried out. Your face rubbed against your arms, snotty cries from a burning nose and throat that you tried to soothe.

“What number was that?” Eddie tapped the cane lightly against you.

“Six.” You muttered, so pitifully sweet it made Eddie’s heart burst. The sniffle that followed was even more piteous, wet and snotty and somehow still bratty.

“Hm, ‘s not lookin’ great, baby.” Eddie teased, the cane snapping against your sore skin. “Already forgettin’.”

“Se-even.” You sobbed, head pressed into your arms, slack over the couch.

Eddie was nearly drooling, watching the way your hips rocked onto the arm of the couch for friction, catching glimpses of your pussy.

“You wanna be on the nice list.” Eddie nodded, striping you again right across the middle of your ass.

“Eight.”

“You know what nice girls get?” Eddie pressed, watching your shoulders shudder before he caned you, higher this time.

“No!” You hissed, knees buckling and legs quaking after the hit. “Nine.”

“Good girls who are on the nice list,” Eddie leaned forward, hovering over your squirming frame. “Get their pussies eaten out.” You whimpered, hips grinding down harder on the arm of the couch. “They get my tongue used on them as a reward for being so good.”

“Please, Ed, please.” You babbled, throbbing, needy, and your mind already numbed with the overwhelming sensation of pleasure and pain. “Please.”

“Nuh-uh-uh.” Eddie tsked, shaking his head at you. “You haven’t been good.” His hand rubbed over the hot skin of your ass, tickling just above your hidden pussy, grinning at the whine you gave. You stomped, huffing into the couch. There she was, the little brat he loved to play with.

“If you were good,” Eddie grunted, swinging the cane back and forward into your burning skin. You wailed, hand slapping into the couch, clawing at the cushion to keep yourself from reaching back. “You’d get eaten out.”

“T-Ten.” You whimpered, a pouty sound. Eddie could practically see your face- brows creased in a frown, lip jutted, tear stained cheeks and a runny nose.

“I’d use my tongue on you,” Eddie purred. You whined, nasally and desperate, hips swiveling down for friction. “I’d make you cum over and over and over.”

You gasped when the cane cut into your ass with an unforgiving snap, an inflamed imprint left in its wake. “Eleven.”

“I’d even let you sit on my face so you could grind down just like that.” Eddie teased, tapping your rocking hips with the cane lightly. “Let you do that on my face instead of on the couch, rubbing your pussy all over my couch like that when you’re getting spanked. Seems awfully naughty, if you ask me.” He tutted.

Your toes curled, his words were cruel, teasing, made your body burn with embarrassed heat- yet you were so close.

“I don’t think you’re gonna be very good this year. Don’t know if I believe you.” Eddie shook his head. “You’re supposed to be getting punished, not enjoying this.”

“I-I’m not.” You panted, shaking your head furiously.

“You’re not?” Eddie scoffed, setting the cane to rest on your ass. His hand dipped between your thighs, fingertips sliding through your sopping folds easily, smirking at the gasp that tore from your throat.

Eddie’s finger sunk into your soaking hole, pumping in and out at an agonizingly slow pace that had your head lifting, eyes pinched in pleasure. You were close, he could feel it, feel it in the way you clenched and strangled around his finger. He pulled away just as quickly as he put them in, your eyes flying open at the loss.

“What-”

“Look at this,” Eddie commanded, his fingers coated with your sticky arousal, pointer and middle finger spreading, webs of your slick forming with ever widening of his fingers. “You think someone not enjoying this would have that? Hm? Look at it.”

Your cheeks were scorching with heat, lifting your gaze shyly to his dangling fingers in front of your face, shaking your head lightly.

Eddie hummed in satisfaction, pulling his hand back, wiping your release over your burning ass. You yelped, jumping at the burn of his touch on your sore skin. Eddie’s lips curled, grabbing the candy cane off your hips.

“Last one.” Eddie muttered, lining the festive decoration up against your skin, tapping gently. “You ready, baby?”

“‘M ready.” You sighed, cheek pressed into your outstretched arms.

Eddie was sure he was about to bust at the sight of you- glassy eyed, sniffling lightly, whimpering with every roll of your hips. Oh, it was too fuckin’ much.

Eddie brought the cane down hard- hard enough he thought it might snap in half. The final blow that had you gasping, a strangled whine huffing out of your chest in a gasping heave before your body tensed, quivering at the sensation the impact left.

“T-Twelve.” You whimpered, cheek pressed against your arm, so spacy in ecstasy you were dribbling out of the corner of your mouth.

Your ass was stinging with that itchy, red-hot irritation that had you desperate to rub it out, only you knew it would only make the ache worse. You were throbbing between the legs, slick and frustrated, desperate for him to touch you.

Eddie’s hand skated in a feather light touch over your ass, passing so delicately over each of your lips, coated with your own slickness. “You learned your lesson?” Eddie hummed, swallowing the spit that filled his mouth at the sight of you, presented so perfectly over the arm of the couch for him- for him to fuck you.

“Ready to be a good girl? Be on the nice list?” His hand didn’t stop, sliding down the inside of your thigh, pushing lightly so you’d spread your legs.

“Yeah,” You sighed, airy and a little pouty, cheek still pressed to the couch pillow.

“Yeah? Look at me, baby.” Eddie patted your thigh gently, hovering over you.

You blinked, looking up at him with sweet, glassy, rounded eyes. “You alright?” Eddie asked, scanning your features carefully, testing the waters of where you were.

“Yeah.” You hummed, lip jutting ever so lightly. “I’ll be good now.”

“I know you will.” Eddie nodded. “Are you alright? You with me, baby?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, shimmying your body so it contorted and angled towards him. “I’m ready to be good, so you can fuck me now.” The bluntness of your words mixed with the light, breathy tone, so deceivingly sweet- it made Eddie’s head spin.

“Yeah?” He grinned, dimples creasing. “I was gettin’ to that, baby.”

“You can get to it now.” You hummed, slipping out of that hazy fog that he always got you in, back into your bratty ways. Eddie’s lips twitched, biting back a smirk. “‘M ready for it. I’ll be really good this year.”

“Alright, you earned it, I guess.” Eddie teased, pulling you by the small of your waist back up the arm of the couch. “How you want me, babe? This good?”

“Yeah, just let me-” You snatched the pillow in front of you, pushing it under your chest. “Ready.”

“You sure are, holy shit.” Eddie muttered, eyes glued to your parted thighs, your sopping cunt making his head reel at the sight. “You gonna be a good girl? Be my good girl?”

“Yes,” You whine, hips wiggling back further to him. “I’ll be good, so good, please.”

Eddie slipped two fingers into your sopping hole, pumping in and out just as slow as before. Your toes curled, body jolting with that euphoric, white hot bolts of pleasure. A small whine, quiet but pathetically desperate slipped from your lips.

Another whine followed, huffier this time, more demanding. “Alright, alright, I gotcha.” Eddie gritted, pumping his shaft slowly, smearing his own pre-leakages over his head, down his shaft. “I gotcha. Relax, baby.”

Your vision blurred at the feeling of him pushing into you, that achingly familiar stretch, your walls tightening with every slow roll of his hips further and further into you. Your ass was raw with the still fresh strokes of the cane, Eddie’s hips and groin snapping into the irritated skin with a purposeful punch of his cock inside of you.

Tears brimmed your eyes, of pleasure or pain or both, you weren’t really sure. The sensation was enough to have you mindless, cheek smushed into the couch cushion, whimpering. “Fuck, you gonna be my good girl? Be my-my nice girl?” Eddie hissed, eyes half-lidded, hypnotized by the sight of your pussy swallowing his cock with every roll of his hips.

“Yeah.” You whined, a ghosting of a whimper tailing on your words.

“Yeah.” Eddie grunted in a mocking tone, fingers sinking into the fat of your hips. “Holy fuck, you feel so fuckin’ good. You know that? ‘Course you know that. This feel good? Am I makin’ you feel good, baby?” His hand fell on your ass, a stinging hand print left in its wake on your already sensitive skin.

You yelped, head snapping up at the impact, red manicured nails curling around the needlepoint pillow, grappling at the loopy stitches while Eddie plowed into you from the back. Fingers bruising your hips and waist from the way Eddie was using your body to fuck himself, until he finally halted, heavy breathing gasps of pleasure. He pulled out, a thick stream of his own release drooling out of you and towards the faded floral upholstery.

Somehow, the lights on the trees and strung along the walls seemed brighter now, with you curled into his neck. Eddie blew the smoke away from you, towards the chilly night air that crept in from the open window.

“I think I kinda get it.” Eddie muttered, a hand rubbing down your back soothingly, pulling you out of your post orgasm hazy state. You hummed, nuzzling into his chest, curling into his body for warmth from the breeze that swept in. “Get why you like all this stuff.”

You lifted your gaze, eyes still glowing with the remnants of emotion, but rounding in the sweetest way. “Yeah? You gettin’ in the spirit, Munson?” You giggled softly.

Eddie snorted lightly, rolling the cigarette between his pointer and thumb over the ashtray. “Maybe.” He shrugged. “You lettin’ me spank you with a candy cane really got me in the spirit, babe.” You laughed, head dropping to his shoulder, eyes batting up at his.

The candy canes lined the path to Eddie’s trailer the next day. You helped him put them out in the freezing cold, occasionally rubbing your tender ass when he’d swish the decoration playfully, eyes dark and dazzling at you. One lone candy cane stayed inside, hanging on Eddie’s bedroom door knob to make it look more festive, or so he said.

902 notes · View notes

lumeltime · 4 months

Text

Get to know Mel 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

₊˚‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵˚₊

Witam Was serdecznie na moim blogu!

Jestem Mel, bądź bardziej moja ksywka to Mel. Bardzo chętnie was wszystkich poznam, śmiało możecie pisać jak macie chęci się poznać. Jako iż w poście nie mam opcji dialogu z wami to opowiem wam o sobie jak i o tym blogu. 𓂂໒ ݂. .଼ྀི𑁨ׁ♡

₊˚‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵˚₊

Jak już mówiłam jestem Mel, i zmagam się z ëd. Ænâ została u mnie zdiagnozowana podczas pobytu na oddziale otwartym. Postanowiłam założyć bloga, który będzie opowiadał o tym jak faktycznie ta ch0r0ba zmienia wasze życie, być może parę osób zniechęcę w "wchodzenie" w ten zamknięty świat. Zdaję sobie sprawę, że muszę się liczyć z faktem, że mimo moich dobrych intencji dalej jest to promowanie i wiele osób mogę zachęcić, długo podejmowałam tą decyzję i uznałam, że mimo wszystko spróbuję oraz będę się udzielać. Jeżeli będę pisała coś romantyzującego ëd błagam was poinformujcie mnie o tym! Jestem osobą z chorą i czasami tracę moją kontrolę nad racjonalnym myśleniem i odpowiednim zachowaniem. Nie tylko Æn jest moim problemem (wszystko jest zdiagnozowane przez profesjonalistów proszę nie sugerujcie się testami z google, jeżeli wasz wynik wyszedł niepokojąco wysoki skontaktujcie się z doświadczoną osobą!) choruję na depresję i zespół lęku napadowego. Biorę bardzo dużo leków przez, które trudno jest mi się skupić, jeżeli nagle moja przemowa zgubi wątek nie dziwcie się! Mimo trudności jestem bardzo kreatywną i poetycką osobą. Widzę świat z pozytywnych stron kiedy myśli odpuszczają. Mam dużo wam do opowiedzenia i zobrazowania dziecinnego postrzegania świata. Jestem bardzo dobrym obserwatorem i chce wam przekazać "mój świat", chociaż na chwilę kiedy będziecie czytać moje posty.

₊˚‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵˚₊

Ten blog jak mówię powstał aby pokazać wam wszystkim Æn z tej prawdziwej strony. Jest też wyrzutem moich emocji i posłuży mi jako pamiętnik. Mało kto teraz pisze pamiętniki, bo po co? Według mnie są bardzo ważne, zostawiają wam ślad po waszych przeżyciach. Są fajną pamiątką zawsze możecie wrócić do jakiegoś dnia. Też od momentu kiedy zaczęłam je pisać czuję bardziej, że żyje bardziej zapamiętuje co w swoim życiu przeżyłam, co czułam, co wykonałam i osiągnęłam. Swój prywatny pamiętnik pisze nieustannie od roku, służył mi on bardzo często w terapii, terapeuci i psycholodzy często czytali go w ośrodku podczas terapii, nieraz wyłapywali przez styl pisania w jakim stanie się znajduje. Czy wy będziecie mogli to zaobserwować? Myślę, że jeżeli będziecie śledzili mnie przez pewien czas zauważycie pewien schemat pisma.

Waga 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

₊˚‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵˚₊

ʚ Hw: 70 ɞ

ʚ Sw: 67 ɞ

ʚ Cw: 57.0 ɞ

ʚ Gw1: 55 ɞ

ʚ Gw2: 50 ɞ

ʚ Gw3: 47 ɞ

ʚ Ugw: 44 ɞ

ʚ Wzrost: 162cm ɞ

ʚ BMI: 21.7 ɞ

ʚ Schudłæm: 10 ɞ

ʚ Do Gw1 zostało: 2 ɞ

ʚ Do Ugw zostało: 13 ɞ

67 ⟢ 66 ⟢ 65 ⟢ 64 ⟢ 63 ⟢ 62 ⟢ 61 ⟢ 60 ⟢ 59 ⟢ 58 ⟢ 57 ⟢ 56 ⟢ 55 ⟢ 54 ⟢ 53 ⟢ 52 ⟢ 51 ⟢ 50 ⟢ 49 ⟢ 48 ⟢ 47 ⟢ 46 ⟢ 45 ⟢ 44

₊˚‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵˚₊

Co mam do zaoferowania? 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

₊˚‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵˚₊

౨ৎ Dziennik

౨ৎ Przepisy

౨ৎ Tipy

౨ৎ Różne informacje na temat dbania o swój wygląd

౨ৎ Moje wiersze

౨ৎ Cytaty

౨ৎ haule

I wiele innych!

₊˚‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵˚₊

To co? Rozgościsz się u mnie? Będę na ciebie wyczekiwać!

74 notes · View notes

dawkacynizmu · 1 month

Text

wtorek 27/08

☪︎ podsumowanie

zjedzone — 950 kcal

na telefonie bo mi sie ladowarka od tabletu zjebala wiec sory za bledy nie mam tu autokorekty

zrobiłam wczoraj pewne combo, do takiej maseczki (NAJLEPSZA!) dodałam kilka kropel olejku z drzewa herbacianego. poczułam pierw takie nieprzyjemne uczucie na twarzy, bałam się ze mi wysuszy twarz...ale po chwili zrobiło się ono takie kojące, jak ją zmyłam to miałam takie uczucie głębokiego odświeżenia, rano za to bardzo wyciszoną cerę 🫶🏼 wraca do dobrego stanu po sporym wysypie.

zwlekłam się dzisiaj szybko z łóżka bo miałam listę rzeczy do zrobienia dosyć długą — zaczynała się posprzątaniem takich dwóch szafek u mnie w pokoju których nie tykałam odkąd tam stoją...chowałam tam też papierki po napadach których wstydziłam się wynieść i wyrzucić, większość regularnie wyrzucałam ale i tak znalazłam jeden po princessie 🤡 nieprzyjemne flashbacki. były tam zeszyty jeszcze z podstawówki z których powyrywałam czyste strony i spakowałam do teczki by mieć na kartkówki, moje stare okulary, jakaś jednorazówka, karty, flet?? większość do wyjebania. moja mama jak zobaczyła że to sprzątam to kazała mi zrobić to samo w pokoju brata, już mi się nie chciało więc powiedziałam że jutro. żeby nie było, w szafkach w pokoju brata są głównie moje rzeczy xD ze szkoły, jakieś bloki, brokaty, resztki farb.

wciągnęłam się dzisiaj w oglądanie serii back to school oraz szkolnych vlogów (omijałam haule zakupowe bo jakoś nie jara mnie oglądanie osób zamawiających 83829292 paczek z marek typu dior i komentarzy pod tym "omg girl you're so reletable!!" w ogóle ciężko jest znaleźć kanał z fajnymi vlogami większość skupia się na ładnych rzeczach a prowadzące opowiadają tylko co kupiły komentując krótkim "omg so cute" macie może do polecenia jakieś takie ciekawsze?? kurde jaki długi nawias wróćcie wzrokiem do początku akapitu aby się połapać w reszcie zdania) na youtubie najlepiej z jesieni, połowie dnia siedzialam na pinterescie scrollując zdjęcia dziewczyn siedzących pod kocami z herbatą, uczących się przy świeczkach. te pierwsze dwa miesiące szkoły są tak przyjemme. niepokoi mnie mój możliwy plan lekcji, mam nadzieję ze będą spoko godziny i nie będę wracać do domu o 17 codziennie xD

oglądałam też sporo contentu związanego z meal preapem, fajne inspiracje znalazłam. wiem że dla większości społeczności powrót do szkoły oznacza nie jedzenie nic tam, więcej fastów i restykcji, dla mnie akurat jest to okazja by jeść zdrowiej bez podjadania. niestety nie będę mogła raczyć się dłużej poranną owsianką, ale kocham ją już tak mocno że przerzucę ją sobie na kolację. do szkoły spoko opcją wydają mi się jogurty pitne typu skyr na dobicie białka, do tego coś jeszcze najpiewniej kanapka z warzywami xD jedzenie tego samego każdego dnia mi się nie nudzi więc tak zapewne będzie to wyglądać.

po południu czytałam lalkę, poszłam na spacer i zrobiłam szybko trening żeby mieć wolny wieczór bo jadę zaraz do tej koleżanki z którą gadałam o diecie lwa (wspominałam kilka postów temu) nie na noc, po prostu moja siostra jedzie w tamtą okolicę i zaproponowała podrzucić mnie na kilka godzin. sporo z nią pisałam po naszym spotkaniu sprzed kilku dni, relacja trochę odżyła.

ogarnęłam że nie napisałam ani słowa o tym co jadłam i w ogóle taki ten post o dupie maryny trochę, wybaczcie xD jakoś mało o żarciu dziś myślałam

#chce byc idealna #chude jest piękne #chudosc #odchudzanie #nie chce jesc #podsumowamie #kartka z pamietnika

27 notes · View notes

st4rv1ng-f41ry · 4 months

Text

Macie haul co kupilam w sklepie bo ostatnio mam za duzo na glowie zeby wstawiac codziennie

#blogi motylkowe #bede motylkiem #motylki any #thinspø #chce byc lekka jak motylek #chude jest piękne #chude uda #chudzinka #chudzinki #pragnę chudości

35 notes · View notes

chthonicgodling · 17 days

Text

THE NEXT ELYSIUM DRAMA UPDATE, starring Tory & EeL:::

“I think… when you panic, your habit is to push people away. Abandon ship. […] You should talk to someone about it.” “I’ve already been thoroughly hauled through the therapy wringer here, lest you forget the forced cascade down memory lane when I first crashed into your company.” “Not thoroughly enough, apparently.”

Boy if that isn’t the understatement of the year🥴

[you are: one • two • three • four • five • six • seven • eight • nine • ten • eleven • here • thirteen • fourteen (the end!) ]

Here we have The continuation of Loki’s reunion with Toryyy back at the palace, featuring a small sliver of a Canon Convo that’s been chopped to highlight just this specific part because AUGHHHHHHH. Above^ lines are also completely Canon and from that same convo later on but were cut for time from these drawings (along with much more to this chat that, SOBS, i LOVED, but I want to move onnnnn)

Recap: the world of TaKi Fuego IS Loki sandwiched between Maci & Tory in an unexpected clingy situationship culminating in a babyyyy which was jarringly perfect until EeL’s neuroses made him EXPLODE IT. but he’s back now! With Tory marching his ass to the couch so they can talk about what the FUCK just happened.

Once again rounds of applause and TEARS for @fenixethekid, my beloved RP partner & Elysium’s better half, who’s handling Tory & all dialogue in the orange bubbles. Tory continues to be one of the few people who can slip through EeL’s one million defenses, and indeed with him crumpled in his arms (AND HEAVILY HORMONAL LMAO???) we are witness to a rare moment of sincerity, a glimpse inside Loki’s quietly spiralling anxieties and insecurities,,

(Hitting you over the head with a hammer……maybe one specific hammer) HUH WHAT AN INTERESTING WORD CHOICE CHOKED OUT THROUGH TEARS, UHHHHH—

Anyway he’s clearly fine and doesn’t need therapy at all Tory, what are you talking about. 🙄 Well we’ll see who ends up winning that argument at a later date.

I JUST HAVE ONE MORE UPDATE FROM THIS STORYLINE WHICH IS ALMOST DONE BEING DRAWN AS WE SPEAK SO!! STAY TUNED STAY TUNEEEDDD‼️

of course Drama Updates will continue on but. can we pleeeease move past these singular TWO WEEKS and get to THE REST OF THE WHOLE SUMMER UHH,

EeL/greens are mine & Tory/oranges belong to Fenixe! AHH

#long post //#LOVE OVE LOVE THIS ONE AAUGGHHH #ELYSIUM COMICS #ELYSIUM DRAMA UPDATE #MY ART #TAKI FUEGO

9 notes · View notes

humansofnewyork · 2 years

Photo

(5/15) “It was never supposed to happen. It was summertime. He was tan. He was only forty-six. He had a heart attack at work. The policemen on our doorstep said by the time they got to him, it was too late. I’d never even been to a funeral before. First funeral I ever went to, and it’s for my own father. That was when real life started happening. My mother went to work. She got two jobs: one at the Board of Education, and another at a dentist’s office. I was the oldest son, so I figured I should take over something. To help mom figure out this road. I landed on three things: driving people everywhere, fixing things around the house, and Christmas. I wanted to do it bigger than ever. We’d never had outdoor decorations before, so I went to the discount store and got some outdoor decorations: toy soldiers for the front steps. A star for the porch. Big, chunky lights for the front gates. I hauled the boxes out of the basement and filled our living room with the usual tchotchkes. Then up went the banner, with all the pictures from Macy’s. There’s a couple photos where it’s just me and my mom. My brothers were getting a little old for it. But every year, when she asked if we were going to see Santa, I’d say: ‘Yes. Yes we are.’ Grown woman. Husband dead. And she would still speak to this man like he was real: ‘Santa, it’s been such a tough year. But we’re so happy to see you.’ I’m smiling in the photos. But things got pretty dark for me after my father’s death. I tried to keep doing magic, but my heart wasn’t in it anymore. The last show I did was at a big camp. The kids were talking through the whole show. I couldn’t amaze them. At one point I was making a ball float in the air, and this little girl yelled out: ‘You suck.’ All the kids started laughing. I said: ‘Please take a seat. That’s not very nice.’ And this girl, all of eleven years old, screamed something so graphic that it sunk into my soul. I packed up my things and walked off the stage. I’m hysterical crying. The camp director is begging me to go back out there, but I couldn’t do it. I decided right then to put the magic away. I thought that maybe children are different now. Maybe the wonder is gone for good.”

245 notes · View notes

myemuisemo · 5 months

Text

As part 9 of The Sign of the Four in "Letters from Watson" opens, I am immediately fond of Mrs. Forrester, the employer of the awesome and adorable Mary Morstan. Her reaction to Watson's news about the case, during his polite afternoon call is what charms me.

“It is a romance!” cried Mrs. Forrester. “An injured lady, half a million in treasure, a black cannibal, and a wooden-legged ruffian. They take the place of the conventional dragon or wicked earl.”

She's genre-savvy! I'm imagining a charming rowhouse, but Camberwell, like the Brixton/Kennington setting of A Study in Scarlet, is in a part of Lambeth that's seen a lot of reconstruction as housing projects. (I am distracted by the presence of a Korean fried chicken takeaway on Camberwell New Road. Sweet-and-spicy chicken sounds really good right now.)

Miss Morstan is, of course, a better person than anyone else in the room.

“It is for Mr. Thaddeus Sholto that I am anxious,” she said. “Nothing else is of any consequence; but I think that he has behaved most kindly and honorably throughout. It is our duty to clear him of this dreadful and unfounded charge.”

His family has done her a great deal of harm, out of selfish motives, and he's been set up as ridiculous in the audience's eyes -- yet her thought is for his being treated fairly by the law regarding his brother's murder.

Organized, practical, difficult-to-frighten, compassionate Miss Morstan may be intended as a model of Victorian womanhood, but she's in no way a delicate blossom. I adore her.

Meanwhile, Holmes is off in search of a steam launch. It belatedly occurred to me that I have no idea what a steam launch is, other than something boat-like. It turns out to be a medium/small boat with a smoke stack, a cabin for its workings, and an awning if there's anything that benefits from shelter. Thames Steamers are historic passenger steam launches, so they're painted up smartly -- but ordinary steam launches hauling this-and-that were a feature of the Thames from 1815 or so. After railroad service started, the proportion of passengers versus cargo shifted in the direction of cargo.

Holmes' "rude sailor dress" features a "pea-jacket," later more commonly called a "pea coat." The pea coat, a heavy wool double-breasted jacket that ends at about crotch-length, was a standard part of naval attire in Europe and the U.S. from the 18th century until very recently. It also had a huge fashion moment in the 1960s, thanks in part to the Beatles. Fashion-focused people wax rhapsodic about pea coats. Macy's has one in stock, appropriately made by Nautica. (Not a rec, not an affiliate, just looking for a harmless example.)

Then Holmes... then Holmes... *giggles*... puts my face in my hands to stop giggling... Holmes then... looks up spirit gum and grease paint, as I don't think you can get either off without some sort of agent like baby oil... aw, who the heck cares, Holmes fools Watson and Athelney Jones. The great detective has a sense of humor!

(I recently watched the entire run of The Pretender and am working on season 3 of White Collar -- so I am inclined to let things go for the sake of a charming con man working for justice. Which Holmes is. Jones is wrong. Holmes would never have joined the police. Too limiting. Had his sense of justice not led him into consulting, he would have been a con man.)

The meal Holmes promises his guests is another interesting combination of high and low. There will be oysters, which were so common and cheap that they are roughly equivalent to chicken wings today. The brace of grouse -- a bird that's hunted but not farmed -- suggests Holmes has a friend in the countryside or access to a butcher who does. And the "something a little choice in white wine" is absolutely high-brow, possibly a present from a satisfied client.

We are going after criminals in a fast steam launch later, so I have high hopes of pursuit and grappling.

#sherlock holmes #the sign of the four #letters from watson

10 notes · View notes

ladybelladonna76 · 5 hours

Text

Dakota Harding, Ms Harding to her pupils was an okay teacher, not the best but certainly not the worst. A fourth year teacher she was starting to become jaded with how little she could achieve within in her classroom. Sure she helped the students she could and cajoled those that she couldn't. She was loved by some of her class and hated by others, but for the most part she was just another obstacle to be overcome for these young adults about to head out into the world.

It was the end of another year and one more class was graduating ready to start the next step on leaving their own paths into adulthood. As always she recieved a bunch of presents from those graduating and she gathered them up and put them in a bag to take home and look at later.

Getting home Dakota settled down for a quiet evening, she started with the main event, the unpacking of her class's gifts.

"Nice! Target, Starbucks, Macy's", the middle class parents always defaulted to gift cards, "a couple of mugs to be put in the cupboard with the dozen others ages been given over the years", she snickered, "Best teacher ever! Wow Stacey's parents do not know their daughter at all!", she continued to sort through them until the various knickknacks and gift cards were all sorted, laid out haphazardly on her coffee table. "Nice haul" she smiled, "better than last year" and started tidying up, she folded up the bag she'd used when one more unnoticed card fell out, she opened it up, reading the front, "Hmmm, what's this, Voila, a gift card for $200", she was impressed, flattered, "wow that's a lot, I wonder what Voila sells, and who'd give me a gift like this", she looked inside the card and read the inscription, "from JT" she was incredulous, "this must be a mistake, he hates me, I had him in detention most weeks and almost got him expelled a couple of times", reading on, "I know I wasn't your favourite student Ms D, heck I'm pretty sure I was your arch nemesis at times but you've been my teacher since I was a freshman and you were the best teacher I had, so I hope this makes up for it. I guess I was trouble mostly because I wanted to get your attention, and spend more time with you whilst we were still together at school, you were always my favorite Ms D.",

Dakota was taken aback, flustered even. She would never have expected this from Jack. Jack Taylor was always trouble.

He came from a wealthy family and he knew no matter what he did he always had Daddy's money to back him up. As she thought about it even though he was rich and spoilt his life must be hard, he never saw his Dad, he was always traveling and his mom was too busy being the wife of a wealthy man to pay much attention to her son. The only place he must get any attention must be here at school, of course his behavior was a cry for help and she'd missed it. She got misty eyed and a little choked up, "I'm sorry Jack I never knew" she mouthed almost silently to no one.

The rest of the night went as planned, the gifts sat on the coffee table mostly forgotten, except for a single box of candy that she picked at periodically. Dakota later ate some microwaved noodles and binged three episodes of Stranger Things, she was watching it for the fifth time, it was comfort TV. Eventually the day caught up with her and she felt her eyes growing heavy, rather than sleep on the couch again Dakota turned off her TV before crawling to her cold lonely bed in her quiet empty one bedroom apartment.

The next few weeks were what she'd come to expect from the long summer months, they were boring with nothing to do and no where to go, Dakota drifted, she went out a couple of times with friends, saw family, read a couple of books but really she did nothing of consequence. Finally cleaning her house in a burst of energy to block out the overpowering monotony she came across Jack's forgotten gift card again and decided on the spur of the moment to find out what exactly Voila did.

Grabbing her laptop she did a quick internet search and discovered that Voila was a beauty salon on the wealthy side of town! She smiled and laughed in exasperation, "Oh it could have been such a nice thought Jack, it was so expensive, but it was just a way for you to get one more dig in about my appearance", memories of Jack poking fun of her in front of the rest of the class about how she should act like a young woman not an old crone ready to go to nursing home flashed in her mind. She thought about giving the card to someone or just throwing it away but instead Dakota laughed in defiance, "Fuck you JT, I'm using this and then I'll never have to think about or see you ever again!"

She called the salon's number on the card the next day and arranged for an appointment through the rather rude and impatient receptionist, she was given an appointment for the next week, apparently she was lucky, there's been an opening, appointments were normally scheduled months in advance. Dakota was eager to use the gift card and forget Jack or the present had ever existed, move on with the rest of her life.

Walking up to the salon on the day of her appointment Dakota felt instant regret at not giving the card away.

Voila was a bustling high end salon in an exclusive part of town. Dakota stood watching the entrance from across the street trying to summon up the courage to enter, she watched the numerous clientele coming and going she knew this wasn't her kind of place at all, they were all glamorous women, some young, some old, all ostentatiously wealthy. Dakota didn't want to judge but they all looked like high maintenance trophy wives, she most certainly did not belong in a decadent place like this.

Dakota normally got her hair cut at a local salon. They did good straightforward work, she didn't need anything fancy, most importantly they were cheap and familiar. She'd been visiting her normal hairdresser ever since settling here after college, she was comfortable there.

Taking one final deep breath and steeling herself Dakota walked quickly towards the salon door, she could see there was a gap in people coming and going, she decided, it was now or never. Looking around the salon as she walked through the door she knew immediately this really was an alien world. She could hear some kind of chart music playing in the background, it sounded familiar, she'd heard her students listening to it but she couldn't fully make out what it was. People were bustling around, there was so much happening, her senses were bombarded, disoriented. In this state of sensual overload she approached the front desk apologetically.

"Err, excuse me, I have an, um appointment", she tried to catch the receptionists attention

The intimidating receptionist looked her up and down making an obviously negative assessment.

"Name?"

The tone in this beautiful Amazon of a woman's voice and her withering stare unsettled Dakota even more, she gulped, "it's errm..."

"Oh spit it out, can't you see we're busy here?", her eyes narrowed, it felt like they were burrowing a hole in Dakota's head.

"Ms D. Harding"

"Okay Misty I've got a Harding here, your stylist Raven will be out in a minute, take a seat"

Dakota tried to correct the receptionist but her words died in her throat as she was dismissed with a wave and a roll of the eyes. Dakota went over to the waiting area and flopped down into a big chair. She didn't belong in a place like this, she knew it, the receptionist knew it, everyone here knew it, she felt like the eyes of everyone were looking at her, judging her. She slouched back desperately hoping the soft chair would swallow her up so she could disappear from this horror show.

After what seemed like a long time Dakota heard a voice calling out insistently.

"Misty.....Misty.....", Dakota heard a brief exchange of words punctuated by a snicker, "her? Okay....there you are....Misty?", the voice was directed at her..."are you deaf darling or just catatonic..." realizing the voice has been calling for her she sat up straight and saw the intimidatingly perfect woman looking down at her questioningly.

Dakota couldn't get out her words she just sat up and stared

"So not deaf then, are you mute Misty or just stupid?"

Stunned Dakota bit her lip, "no", she gulped, she thought she should correct Raven's mistake, "just a little nervous, sorry, the receptionist she err..."

"No need to be sorry," Raven cut her off before she could correct the error, "looking at you it's obviously your first time" her hands waved at Dakota to follow, "I do love a Voila virgin, come on Misty hurry up, we've got a lot to do today", with that Raven marched back towards the back room, Dakota hurrying behind in her wake. She was so defeated and in a daze she decided that today she'd just have to be Misty, she didn't want to go through the rigmarole of trying to explain the mistake and be ignored again.

"Okay bitch, get in the chair and we'll get you started"

"I'm sorry" Dakota said outwardly offended by Raven's language.

"Stop being so sorry, all my clients are Bitch to me, it's a sign of affection sweetie, you'll get used to it, you'll soon think of yourself as a Bitch too"

"I'm sure I won't, I can't afford this extravagance regularly, this was a gift"

"Don't worry Misty you'll be back, my clients always become regulars, I have a certain magic about me, now let's get you started"

"Okay well I was thinking a trim and perhap some low li...."

"It's okay sweetie, the instructions were all on file with the gift card, just sit back and relax, I'll take it from here, I know what you need"

"Errm......okay Raven", Dakota wanted to protest but she knew it would have no effect, this woman was a force of nature.

As Raven went to work Dakota felt a daze coming over her. Watching Raven's movements whilst working her magic was almost hypnotic, Raven chatted away and Dakota would respond and hold simple conversations with her but she couldn't seem to remember what they talked about only moments later. After what seemed like just a few minutes, but was in fact several hours, Raven span her to the look at her new hairstyle in the mirror.

"Some of my best work", Raven announced proudly to her, "So what do you think Bitch?"

Not even registering the word bitch, Dakota was transfixed by the beautiful woman staring across the salon at her.

Dakota's jaw relaxed and her mouth opened ever so slightly in awe of this baddie, she held up her hands to touch her hair in anxiety and the woman in the across the way did the same. The realization slowly dawned on her, this stunningly hot woman looking at her was her... she was looking at a reflection, this couldn't be real, this was some kind of a trick. There was no way she that young woman staring seductively from the mirror.

She registered the glasses and oversize jacket, she'd put them in this morning, they were definitely hers, but this must be an elaborate prank after all looking at this vision the clothes were where the similarities ended. This woman, this perfect vision of sexuality, looked like some kind of seductive trophy woman. Her lips painted in perfectly applied lipstick, makeup accentuating her seductive eyes, even her blouse was gone, she could see the top of the woman's bare chest and what looked like two incredible tits...no not tits, nice looking breasts, peeking out. Dakota's hand trembled as her hand moved to her chest, mirrored by the image opposite her, she found only skin and the woman in mirror's face dropped in shock.

"The first time is shocking isn't it?" Raven observed, this wasn't the worst reaction she'd ever seen by far.

"Oh my God, what have you done to me, I look like some 20 year old party bitch"

"You're welcome and it's 21 year old actually, and I told you at the beginning Misty, I have a certain magic about me", she winked, "so do you like the look?...I know your boyfriend will"

"I don't have a boyfriend you witch", a harsh tone crept in to Dakota's voice, "and my name is fucking Misty, not Misty"

"Okay, fucking Misty it is and as a 'witch' talking to my client I'll just let you know that I was just doing what it said on the order Bitch, take it up with Mr Taylor if you've got any complaints"

"I want a full refund" Dakota called after Raven who was walking obliviously towards the reception, "no can do sweetcheeks, Mr Taylor paid in advance and the $200 was my special fee, take it up with him", Dakota felt a sudden burning at the mention of Jack's name, her whole body flushed with anger?

Infuriated and defeated Dakota impotently stormed out of the salon, "Fuck you all" she cried causing a scene and slamming the door in a full on tantrum as she left. She could see people looking at her shocked by her behavior, ashamed a tear rolled down her cheek. Dakota didn't know what to do or where to go, she breathed slowly composing herself and made sure to straighten herself up, making sure her makeup wasn't smudged she examined herself in a shop window, "yep still looking good Bitch!", she paused momentarily wondering where that had came from. Just because she looked like trophy bitch didn't mean she was any different inside, she was still Dakota. Finding herself calm for a moment Dakota decided she needed somewhere to think, to plan out her next move, she wandered in to a nearby coffee shop she'd spotted deciding a hot drink would help calm her nerves.

She walked in to the coffee shop and automatically without thinking walked straight up to the barista, jumping past a couple of people patiently waiting in line. Her resting bitch face glared at the other customers almost instinctually, as if she was challenging them to say anything, they looked away quietly.

'They know their place', she thought.

She walked up to the counter and without being asked just barked out her order at the meek pathetic looking barista

"I'll have a venti 7 pump vanilla soy 12 scoop matcha 180 degree NO FOAM green tea latte", where had that come from she normally ordered a flat white, "make sure that temperature is right" she demanded, 'what's wrong with me? I must still be in shock she reasoned to herself'

"Name?", the barista asked

Dakota felt a momentary anxiety trigger inside her remembering the confusion earlier.

"Misty", Dakota said automatically despite herself, "M-I-S-T-Y!", she spelled out as if assuming the girl was dumb or would deliberately write it incorrectly to spite her, inwardly she was screaming, 'why am I being such a bitch and why can't I seem to dump that bitch moniker, although Misty does seems like more of a name for a bitch than Dakota and that is how I'm behaving right now. Get a hold of yourself, this is not who you are, be nice Dakota, it costs nothing.'

As she stood waiting for her drink the time seemed to be dragging, it seemed like it that little bitch was taking forever deliberately. Dakota, found herself tapping on the counter with her elegantly painted nails impatiently. Dakota looked up at the clock to see it had only actually been three minutes, she dismissed that, the clock must be broken, this wait felt like forever, impatience darkened her already irritated mind further. The drink finally arrived, Dakota took it before paying and took a tiny sip, she sighed and with dark stormy eyes she turned sardonically to the poor slight barista, a young girl of barely college age,

"Really....you took all that time, making me wait and this is what you give me", her irritation was fast turning to anger, her voice gaining a strained tone, "do I need to get someone more competent, perhaps not a fucking trainee to make this for me, this, whatever this you think this is, is disgusting" she passed it back dismissively, "make it again, but properly this time!", the barista intimidated by the forcefulness of Misty took the drink back sheepishly.

"I'm sorry, I'll make it again, I...", she started to apologize

"Don't tell me you're sorry," Misty snapped, "just do your fucking job properly, it's not hard, ugh idiots"

Dakota couldn't believe what she was doing or just how satisfying it felt doing it. After the fourth attempt, with the barista looking more and more upset the drink was finally to Dakota's exasperated satisfaction

"About time, I assume this will be free"

The barista meekly nodded and retreated into the back room, Dakota thought she could hear muffled sobbing, she smirked as she strutted away from the counter pridefully.

"I'll be sure to leave a review", she called back maliciously, reveling in the pain she was causing the girl.

"That was uncalled for and just mean", a woman's voice murmured from the expanding line, Dakota spun on her heel glaring accusingly at the line of people.

She started laughing at the sight of these pathetic examples of humanity, "Look sheeple if that moron did her job properly she wouldn't have caused that to happen to her, we all have to learn", she smirked hoping the voice would identify themselves, "in fact if that pathetic serf had any real sense about her she wouldn't be working at this awful job, she'd have someone to take of her and not end up serving me and you fucking robots, she gets what she deserves and what she deserves certainly doesn't include respect or compassion from me just because she can't do the simple job she's paid what she's worth to do".

'Wow', she felt her eyes roll a little backwards in pleasure, 'that was a rush, why does being mean make me feel so fucking horny', Dakota thought biting her lip a little, 'is this what being Misty would feel like, this is terrible, I'm being so fucking bitchy, this is so wrong, I'm being a horrible person, but mmmmmm it feels so good', a damp patch started to form in her panties.

She walked elegantly away from the murmuring line of people and sat down at a table by the window looking outside so she wouldn't have to remember she was in a room full of pathetic worthless bags of skin. Looking out the window she started examining the people that passed by on the busy street. Dakota found herself openly sneering in disgust as each and every person she saw was found lacking in her mind in almost every criteria she now found found important.

Look at her rat's nest hair, why is he wearing a suit like that, where did she get those clothes, a garbage dump? Dakota was fast realizing that there was not one person in here worthy of Misty's precious time.

'Why did I come to this dump', she thought, "this isn't me at all" She shook her head trying to clear mind of cobwebs, to think clearly, '..or is it, I've always loved coffee shops" Dakota was fighting for her identity, 'No this bitchiness it isn't me, none of this is me, this is just an uncharacteristic moment, shock from my appointment' she held herself tightly, her hands feeling her soft delicate skin, the brush of her nails comforting her , 'maybe that wicked slut Raven drugged me and I'm still just sat hallucinating in her chair', of course that must be the answer. That made sense, this must just be some lucid fever dream, a momentary hallucination. Dakota rationalized if it's a just a dream then there's no guilt, this isn't me, there's no consequences to this. My subconscious is just running free let loose of my normal inhibitions, I should just play along and let go. A thought intruded, let's see where my subconscious is going with this, let Misty out, then we can enjoy this dream fully together, if it's just a dream let the bad girl play, she's always been just below the surface just waiting for you to let her out and have fun, that would be the nice supportive thing to do', she bit her lip seductively at the titillating idea of freedom swirling in her mind, 'Misty you want to come out and play a while whilst I dream?', she asked to only herself in her mind.

With that mental choice Dakota's personality was suddenly overwhelmed by a new fully formed identity erupting out, finally freed from inside her. A raw passion awakened, a realization of power cascaded throughout her being, a tantalizing shiver of possibility shot up her spine and her nipples hardened against the fabric of her cheap jacket.

A perfect smile crept over her face, 'I'm over this place, where too now?', Misty wondered sipping her coffee, seeing the sleeve of her jacket as she raised the cup gave her a spark of inspiration, 'I'm done with this cheap costume, it's served it's purpose now I need a more appropriate outfit", Misty adjusted her jacket making sure her breasts were still on on display looking perfect so all these pigs would be aware of their inferiority. With a flourish she stood knocking over her barely touched drink to spill all over the table and floor, she actively ignored the mess leaving it for some peon to clean up.

Misty seemed to head on autopilot strutting along the street like a model on her own personal catwalk, her face daring anyone to get in the way of her parade of perfection. She could see the stares and hear the intakes of breath she was attracting as she seductively strutted towards her goal.

She walked in to the fanciest boutique like she belonged there, this was a place Dakota didn't know existed, let alone would ever have considered shopping at.

"I'm going to need some help" she announced upon entering the store looking coldly at the sales staff.

She looked at the three people who had stopped working and now stood staring up at her like startled deer. Her mind quickly sizing them up she selected by pointing at the most attractive girl, she knew the other two girls would be equally jealous of their colleague but a little relieved too, "You'll do for now", she subtly let the girl know she was replaceable, "I need a new wardrobe, go get me somethings to try on, clothes that will dream me perfectly, you know what I want?"

"Yes of course, Miss erm?"

"Misty darling", she looked in the mirror adjusting her hair and touching up her lip gloss.

"And I'm..", Misty immediately cut her off

"No thank you, I could not care less", superior bitchiness was so delicious, "now run along little girl and bring me something more", she waved down at her old oversized jacket, "suitable for a bad bitch like me out on the town", Misty loved ordering this peon around it made her nipples hard as diamonds, I'll be in the changing rooms, please don't make me wait too long, I hate to wait, I get so terribly impatient and bored"

The girl ran off frantically to bring Misty the stores hottest looks.

Misty walked towards the changing area and started stripping her clothes off as she went. The two remaining assistants scurried after her in a panic picking up what she dropped, the glasses, shoes, her skirt, and finally her jacket.

"Miss Misty what should we do with these?", the oldest of the assistants called after her, gasping at the customer's beautiful round ass.

"Throw them away or keep them, I don't really care, they're just not me anymore", Misty said with a dismissive tone.

The assistant followed behind Misty gathering up her discarded clothing as she went, when she came to Dakota's granny panties she looked around furtively to make sure she wasn't being watched then stuffed them in her dress for safe keeping.

Now competently naked in the changing area Misty took in her whole body's magnificence in the full length mirror for the first time.

'Jack what have you done to me', she thought remembering her student who's gift has brought her to this moment, 'if you could see boring Dakota now you you wouldn't think she's some ugly crone anymore, mmm, I think I may need to go visit JT and apologize to him personally for not giving him the attention he needed when he was in Dakota's class'

She'd had an inkling when she first changed whilst boring Dakota was still in control that she was sexy, but fuck Misty could she that she was a magnificent sexy bitch who knew it. Her pride an arrogance pumped wicked nasty thoughts in to her mind, her hands massaged herself roaming around her naked body, exploring every inch, her plump soft lips, her graceful neck. Every light touch was a rhapsody in sensitivity sending tingles shooting throughout her consciousness. Her arms and legs were strong but elegantly sculpted like a dancer's, her ass full and round, she'd perfectly fill out any pants or leggings now. oh her beautiful breasts, her glorious fucking tits, they were at least a full C Cup, they were pert and firm to her touch, she accidentally grazed her erect nipple and it send a shock of pure pleasure to her beautiful glistening pussy, she could feel the heart emanating from her sex, she wanted so desperately to touch it to feel her pussy's lips, she could feel her then moistening with every naughty moment, before today she'd never have used the word pussy to describe her vagina, but it was undeniable, she had a pussy and it was a fucking gorgeous succulent one. Her finger edged closer towards her dripping eager cunt, feeling the heat she knew that she had to...

The retail assistant burst in to the dressing room carrying an armful of clothes desperate not to disappoint Misty.

"Miss Misty, I got everyth...", the young girl stopped struck mute at the sight of the goddess before her.

"You really should have knocked", Misty said menacingly, "you left me waiting so long I got bored and needed to distract myself"

Misty looked the girl up and down assessing her coldly. She was a moderately good looking woman, after all, that's why she'd chosen her.

"It seems to me that you that you took forever getting what I asked for, and then you rudely barged in here without knocking, you really are awful at this job, aren't you?"

"I'm so sorry Miss Misty, I can leave and come back when you're ready"

She pursed her lips in mock irritation, "My name is just Misty, I told you that already", Misty closed the space between them, "that's your third offense", she smiled wickedly taking the girl's hand and squeezing, "How do you propose making all this up to me?"

She placed the young woman's hand on her soft thigh, she felt the girl tense up, "I can either talk to your manager about this and tell them what you've done and probably get you fired, or you can help me relieve my frustration at your poor attention to customer satisfaction"

"Please Misty, I'd do anything", the girl has said the magic words and opened the door Misty smirked taking the girl's head in her hand and leaning in. Misty heard the girl's breath hitch involuntarily and she kissed her, Misty felt the girl's skin heat and her mouth open just enough to allow her tongue room to explore.

Her tongue massaged and toyed with the girl, her hand explored the girls body finding a hardened nipple, she broke off and looked at the girls eyes noting her flushed cheeks and dilated pupils,

"I like you", she saw the young woman beaming with pride at her approval, "now I could care less...tell me your name"

The girl eagerly blurted, "It's Vicki, Misty", her hands nervously massaged Misty's thigh, "I've never kissed..."

"There's lots of things you haven't done Vicki, let's get rid of one more of those today shall we", Misty rose and walked to the door, opening it fully exposing her glorious body to the store, "I'm going to be commandeering Vicki for a little while", she smirked, "she's going to be helping me, I do not want us to be disturbed", not waiting for a response she slammed the door and turned the lock.

Turning back she looked at her new pupil, "Now where were we Vicki?"

This was based on a prompt by David Bikerbat that struck me. This is the beginning of Dakota's summer break from school, I suspect she will have to confront JT and Raven and address what they did to her, Misty has unfinished business

6 notes · View notes

idolatrybarbie · 10 months

Text

not publishing anymore fic this year but thinkin' tommymaria thoughts...

maria is an absolute genius computer engineer, creates amazing builds in her spare time. she is truly just supremely smart and talented...but it's 2011 and we're recovering from a recession here, people, so she's snagged some shitty IT job at a third party phone survey company. they call, they try to ask you questions, you usually hang up. that kinda deal.

enter tommy. well not really enter. maria goes to fulfill a maintenance request on the fourteenth floor, taking the elevator allll the way up from the dingy third floor office they keep the tech employees in. enter maria to meet tommy. he's nice enough, a little flushed and worried about his work set up—they aren't supposed to create a burning smell.

turns out the computer is completely fried, someone spilled their coffee on it late one night and it's dribbled into the GPU and wrecked the motherboard. she goes to haul the computer to the elevator and he offers to carry it down for her, ever the gentleman. maria's knee jerk reaction is to tell him she's good, but he is kind of cute... so she lets him take the case into his arms, heavier than he expected, and keep her company on the trip down again.

he almost asks for her number before he leaves, she can tell, but stops himself. maria watches him walk away, ass tight in those macy's dress pants. she thinks that's the last she's ever gonna see of him until! the work holiday partyyyyy.

it blows, in short. none of her IT co-workers even bothered to show, leaving maria socially stranded. she's contemplating if anyone'll even notice or care if she ditches when someone sidles up next to her beside the gaudy-looking Christmas tree—tommy miller.

"hey there," he says, half way between a friend and a stranger.

"kentucky fried computer," maria nods at him.

"i still don't know how that happened," tommy says. maria gives him a disbelieving look. "i don't drink coffee."

"you work a nine to five but you don't drink coffee?" she asks.

tommy shakes his head. "only green tea. it's good for gut health." immediately, the despairing look on his face tells maria that he cannot believe he's uttered the words gut health in front of her.

she rolls with it. "so if i open it up, i'm not going to find a bunch of little leaves in there?"

"you won't," tommy says. "scout's honour." when she raises an eyebrow in question, he explains, "i was a boy scout for nine years."

"of course you were."

they find a soft couch to take up residence in a quiet corner of the party. maria's two flutes of champagne deep, quizzing him about the scouts with questions from her phone. he isn't lying, getting all of the answers correct. then she asks him what he does now.

"unless you're still a boy scout," she says.

"am not," tommy says. then he shrugs. "i work. go home, make dinner."

"so you cook."

"i do," he nods. "can make a mean frozen lasagna. or ajiaco, if you'd prefer."

he has an amazing way of making questions for him turn around to be about her.

"i'd have to know what that is," maria says.

"meat soup, sorta. barbecued beef, chopped onions, green chili peppers," tommy explains.

it honestly sounds delicious, but telling him that would communicate that maria's interested in trying it—in having him cook for her. and she's not...right?

"sounds nice," is all she gives him.

when the party ends, tommy walks maria to her car. she finds it a bit overkill but can't find it in herself to tell him not to. it's sweet. he is sweet. it's been a while since she's had any sugar in her life.

when he asks her out straightforwardly, she takes a moment to consider, fingers curled over the door handle of her car.

she says, "yes." tommy's face splits into an amused grin as she continues, "my place, but you're cooking. d'you like wine or beer?"

"wine. you?"

"beer," she says.

"i'll bring both," tommy nods.

#tommy miller #maria miller #tommy x maria #speaking #tlou #i built computers in highschool can you tell

13 notes · View notes

clarepreed · 1 year

Text

A Bolt From the Blue

Story Summary and Content - 5, 045 words. Kendrick's new girlfriend Macy is electrocuted at an amusement park. Electrocution, refractory ventricular fibrillation, double sequential defibrillation, lengthy on-site resuscitation.

Macy

“Dammit!” Macy yelped, jumping back as hot water sprayed across her chest. The faucet came with her, detaching completely from the sink. Water burbled up out of the hole left behind, soaking the counter and running onto the floor. “Oh my God!”

She stared at the mess for a long thirty seconds until her brain clicked into gear and she dropped to the floor, crawling under the counter and reaching for the water shut off. She screwed it closed, shutting off the water supply.

Then she crawled out from under the counter. Her pants were soaked, shirt wet; water had even dropped off the counter and into her hair.

Macy put out a “wet floor” sign, grabbed the faucet, and made the hike across the park to the office for a mop and a chat with the boss.

“Your plumbing job came undone,” Macy said, clunking the faucet down on her boss’s desk. She was pushing it with her attitude; Pat didn’t like to have his shortcomings pointed out. “I need to go mop the floor before someone falls.”

“What did you do to it?” Pat snarled. He was never a pleasant-looking man, but the snarl face he made emphasized the dark circles under his eyes and the harsh lines across his forehead. “There wasn’t anything wrong with it when I fixed it!”

“It came off in my hand!” she objected, irritated when she heard herself squeak.

“I told y’all not to yank on the faucets! None of you listen to me! You can’t use plumbing the way you lot do at home, just yanking things around!”

I didn’t yank on your faucet, you absolute donuts for brains. She didn’t dare say that out loud. Not only was she not up for being screamed at, she needed to keep the job long enough to pay her bills until the end of grad school. Which was, thank the Lord, soon.

Seething inside, Macy retrieved the mop and bucket and dragged them out of Pat’s office. “I didn’t dismiss you!” he called after her.

Macy kept walking, dragging the half-lame mop bucket with her. One of the wheels had come off and Pat thought it was a good idea to super glue it back on. It had broken off two more times, and was, of course, incapable of rolling.

Outside, the sky had grown dark. Lights and signs were turning on across the park, flickering to life as she walked by.

“Hey, Macy!” A voice broke into her thoughts. “Do you need help?”

Kendrick

He was about an hour into his side hustle as a security guard when he spotted her.

Macy, the pretty grad student working at the same half-rate amusement park where he was moonlighting to supplement his police officer salary. They’d been out on two dates, and though they were keeping things casual for now, he was hoping that might change in the near future.

Macy had beautiful brown skin and wore her hair in tight, dark coils that fluffed out a few inches from her skull. She wore bright colors whenever out of uniform, and had a sunny smile. He liked her, and not just because she’d agreed to go out with him.

Most days she had a sunny smile, he amended. Today, she was frowning and hauling a derelict-looking mop bucket across the fairgrounds. She looked a little worse for wear; her pants were wet and dirty, and the front of her white t-shirt was wet and see through. He made a point of not looking at her chest a second too late, clocking the outline of her bra.

She didn’t notice, however; she was too preoccupied by her thoughts.

“Hey, Macy!” he called out to her. “Do you need help?”

She blinked her big brown eyes and looked up. Then her full lips broke into a wide smile.

Macy

Kendrick was a good-looking man. He wasn’t overly tall, but he was strong and spare, with a chiseled jawline and warm umber skin. He had the best smile, too. Warm and broad, reaching his eyes every time, his white teeth flashing in the sun.

“I got it, but do you want to walk with me for a minute? Pat’s done it again!”

He fell in beside her, asking: “What happened this time?”

“He still thinks he’s a plumber and an electrician. The faucet came off in my hands and he accused me of ‘yanking’ on it. Somehow, I’ve managed to go my entire life until now without breaking a sink, even though I apparently don’t know how to properly use one!”

Kendrick laughed. He was, she thought, doing a good job of listening to her even as he remained visibly observant, watching people as they milled about. “I guess I should be glad he didn’t want to be security himself. Though I’ve noticed he carries even though his own policy bans all but law enforcement from carrying on the property.”

“You don’t want to know how irresponsible he is with his guns, either,” she said. “It’s weird to go see your boss and notice multiple guns just laying around, right? Sometimes they would be easier for a visitor to grab than himself!”

“For real?” He looked at straight at her then, his eyebrows raised. “We gotta find you another job.”

“Three more months until graduation,” Macy said, sighing.

Kendrick gestured up ahead. “Half of his lights are out tonight.”

“Oh… Wow. Well, I can actually do something about one of them. Here, hold my mop.” She handed him the mop and sat the bucket down on the ground. “Be right back.”

Kendrick

“Be right back.” She rolled her eyes as she said it, then turned and walked toward one of the game booths, where a large sign was dark. He took a moment to appreciate her ass, hoping no one noticed that he was ogling in uniform.

He thought she was going to step inside somewhere and flip a switch, but to his surprise she rose onto her toes and stretched up toward the back of the sign.

As he watched, the sign blinked on, then started flickering like crazy.

“I think that sign needs more than a power cycle,” Kendrick said, walking closer.

Macy didn’t respond. Her position looked awkward, her body straining up toward the sign.

“Macy? Do you need some help?” Kendrick reached out to touch her back, but something told him not to and he stopped short. “Macy?”

The staff member operating the game, a skinny teenage boy, leaned out of the stand and looked up at the sign.

“Woah!” he exclaimed. “I think she caught hold of that broken wire on the back of my sign!”

Electrocuted!

Kendrick moved automatically, before his conscious brain caught up. He swung the wooden handle of the mop up toward Macy’s hand, knocking it loose from the sign. Her body immediately went limp, collapsing toward the broken pavement.

Kendrick dropped the mop and caught her awkwardly, stumbling down on knee. Her body was limp in his arms.

“Macy!” he called out. “Shit! Hey, Macy!”

Getting no response, he laid her flat on her back, careful with her head and neck. Her face was ashen, eyes closed, lips turning purple. He tilted her head back to open her airway and leaned his ear close to her cheek.

She’s not breathing!

Kendrick was fortunate that his department allowed their equipment to be used while moonlighting as security. He pressed the button on his radio and spoke quickly: “This is Officer Kendrick Johnson, badge number five-five-nine-seven, I need paramedics at the Excitement Amusement Park on Westover.”

There was a brief back and forth with dispatch, and then he said: “A staff member has been electrocuted, I’m starting CPR now!”

Kendrick kneeled over Macy and clasped his hands together, quickly pressing them to the lower half of her breastbone. Then he forced his hands down, hard.

“Ambulance ETA is two minutes to the front gate.”

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten…”

Her chest caved in under his hands, her sternum depressing more than two inches. He could feel the damp fabric of her wet shirt under his hands, felt the softness of her breast under his fingers. Her stomach bulged with each deep pump of her chest, and he could hear air huffing out of her quiet lungs.

Kendrick looked up. The teenage staff member was staring down at them, open-mouthed and pale-faced.

“…ten! Hey,” he said to the boy. “Where’s your AED?”

The boy’s mouth fell open. Kendrick expected him to say he didn’t know what that was, but instead, he said: “We don’t have one anymore.”

“What?” Kendrick’s voice was sharp. “What do you mean?”

“Pat said if the government wanted him to spend money on something like that, they should have a grant for it.”

“Are you certain? One, two, three…”

“Yeah, I told my dad because he’s a cardiologist. He ordered two to donate the other day, they just haven’t arrived yet.”

“Dammit! Listen, run to the front entrance. When the ambulance gets here, you have to show them where we are. Don’t let anyone stop you or she will die, do you understand?”

The boy nodded. Kendrick was relieved that he hadn’t frightened him too much with the “she will die” comment.

“Run! Go, now! One, two, three, four, five…” Kendrick watched the boy swallow hard before he ran around the end of the counter and sprinted away.

A crowd was beginning to form. Kendrick glanced down at Macy’s face. She looked very unwell, her head lolling with the force of his compressions. He could hear and feel her cartilage crackling and shifting.

Looking back up, he spotted another staff member, a teenage girl with long, red hair.

“Don’t let anyone touch that sign,” he told her. “The one above us. Don’t you touch it, either. One, two, three, four…”

The accumulating crowd murmured, but no one seemed interested in getting close or helping. He wondered if they would be a problem when the paramedics arrived. He knew it would take them just as long if not longer to make it to his location as it would to reach the park gate itself.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten! One, two…”

Macy’s ribcage visibly bobbed under her shirt. He tried to keep his compressions consistent. He had performed CPR twice before, both times for overdoses. One had survived after Narcan was administered. He didn’t think there was anything else he could do for Macy but get her help and keep her blood pumping.

A woman in her forties broke through the crowd, hurrying toward him. She looked like a mom on a family outing, but she kneeled at Macy’s other side and said: “My name is Janie, I’m a nurse. What happened? How long have you been performing CPR?”

“About three minutes,” Kendrick said, keeping up the steady rhythm. “She was electrocuted. EMS will be here soon. There’s no AED on-site.”

“We can switch back and forth until the paramedics get here,” the nurse said. Kendrick nodded, and she nodded back. “I can’t believe they don’t have an AED!”

“…nine, ten!” Kendrick lifted his hands and Janie’s hands immediately took their place.

“One, two, three, four, five, six…”

Kendrick leaned back on his heels to catch his breath. Macy was still senseless, her body moving only under the force of the nurse’s chest compressions. The violence of it looked even worse now that he could sit back a few feet. The huff of air from Macy’s lips sounded almost hoarse.

He’d seen a video once of a quivering heart under resuscitation. CPR had looked ugly inside, too, the artificial compressions appearing to be both invasive and insufficient.

“…five, six, seven, eight, nine, fifty! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, sixty! One…”

“Ambulance is on site,” he heard from his radio. “They will be at your location soon.”

“Hey, move on!” he heard a man say. He looked up, and a man in his forties wearing a ball cap was trying to shoo away the crowd. “EMS is about to come through and y’all are all in the way! Give this young woman some privacy!”

“…five, six, seven, eight, nine, eighty! One…”

Kendrick was prepared to stand up and make a big show of being a cop, but to his surprised the crowd slowly dispersed, with the exception of a few people with their backs to the scene that he thought might be trying to provide cover.

“…ninety-eight, ninety-nine, two hundred!” The nurse emphasized the last several compressions and then lifted her hands, and Kendrick dove in, his hands pumping hard into Macy’s chest.

“Thank you!” Janie, breathing hard, called out to the man who’d dispersed the crowd. “Where are the kids?”

“Jett is in charge. I gave them forty bucks and sent them all to the food court. Ambulance on the way?”

“Medics should be here any minute.”

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…”

“I should probably go tell my boss,” Kendrick heard the teenage girl say.

“Stay here,” he barked out. “We don’t want someone else electrocuted! …three, four, five…”

“Oh hey,” the man said. “They actually brought the ambulance in here! I see it coming! Alright folks, thanks for helping us with privacy, but it’s time to step out of the way!”

Kendrick glanced up, saw that the ambulance was moving slowly down the concourse, lights flashing but siren silenced.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, one hundred! One, two, three…”

Hurry up, get over here and help her!

“…two, three, four, five…”

He felt sweat trickle down his temple. His arms were burning, but he looked at her face to remind himself that this was more than just helping a citizen in his town. This was Macy, the cute young woman he’d hoped to get serious with. He couldn’t tell if she was still in there, if it was already too late. He hoped it wasn’t.

Finally, he heard the ambulance stop and the doors open. He looked up, saw the nurse climb to her feet and wave them over.

“…two, three, four, five, six…”

A paramedic dropped to his knees in front of Kendrick. “Thank you, officer. I’ll take over in three, two, one!”

Kendrick raised his hands and the medic immediately started chest compressions. The cop leaned back, breathing hard. Then he leaned down, touched Macy’s face, and said: “Fight, Macy. Fight, okay?”

“We’ll take it from here,” a female medic said. “You did a good job. I’m Crystal. Can you tell us what happened?”

Kendrick stood, trying not to show her how wiped he was. “She was electrocuted. I knocked her loose and started CPR immediately.”

“She’s been down seven minutes,” the nurse said. “No AED on-site. I’m an RN at Riverside General.”

“Her name is Macy,” Kendrick added.

“Thank you, sir, ma’am.”

Kendrick watched as the four paramedics swarmed around Macy.

“Pulse check!” Everything briefly paused while they checked for Macy’s pulse. “No pulse. Mohinder, you’re on her chest. Dona, respirations and airway. Val, get the IV started. I’m getting her on the monitor now.”

“Poor girl,” the nurse said quietly.

Kendrick felt a flash of anger burn through him. “This is the owner’s fault. I’m going to make sure he’s investigated. If he did that work and he’s not a licensed electrician then there needs to be consequences… And, by law he’s required to have an AED here.”

“This place is a little shady,” the nurse said. “I don’t let my kids on any of the rides that go upside down.”

“I’m calling it in,” he said, pulling out his cell. He leveled the nurse a grateful look. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I hate to leave, but I should collect my husband and my children.” She didn’t walk away, however. After a moment, Kendrick realized he was just staring at Macy, his phone in his hand.

“We went out a couple of times,” he said quietly. “I was gonna ask her to be my girlfriend.”

“Oh,” the nurse said. She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I sincerely hope she pulls through. I am sure she’ll go to Riverside; I’ll ask after her later. I really hope to hear good news.”

“Me, too,” Kendrick said.

The nurse said something else, but he didn’t catch it and then she was walking away.

“V-fib,” he heard one of the medics say. “Charging to two hundred.”

CPR continued for a short while. While he was talking to the nurse, the paramedics had cut open Macy’s shirt and bra, baring her chest. He could see her stomach distend with each forceful compression.

“Pause compressions, everybody clear.” He watched as Macy’s torso jerked, coming a fraction of an inch off the pavement before thudding back down. “Still in v-fib. Val and Mohinder switch, Mohinder will push the epi.”

Dona, the medic in charge of airway and respirations, was measuring an airway against Macy’s face. Kendrick dialed his supervisor, watching as the medic opened Macy’s mouth and slid the airway inside, turning it one hundred and eighty degrees before resting it against her teeth.

“…thirty!” Dona picked up the bag valve mask and pressed it to Macy’s face, squeezing the bag twice.

“Gardner!” barked his boss on the other end of the line. “Johnson! Aren’t you moonlighting?”

“That’s why I’m calling.”

The other man sighed. “Is it messy?”

“My girl that works here at the park just got electrocuted.”

“Shit, Johnson. Is she okay?”

“No, sir.” Kendrick swallowed hard. One of the medics was taking her blood pressure, and he noticed the lead was examining her hand, the one that had come into contact with the current. “Medics are working on her now.”

“Hell. I’m sorry. What do you need?”

“The owner, Pat Greene. Pretty certain he’s been doing electrical work here, poorly, without a license. I would also expect that he would fail in a number of areas if inspected. There’s also no AED.” Kendrick cleared his throat. He could see her feet swaying back and forth. “I need you to do what you can, sir.”

There was a long silence. “Understood, Kendrick. Listen, you let me know how she’s doing, okay?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“…thirty!” He heard a soft whoosh from the bag, then Val’s forceful compressions continued. He could see Macy’s breasts, which to date he’d only touched through clothing, wobble with each compression. He felt strange, knowing he probably shouldn’t look, that he would have been happy to wait until she was ready to take her clothes off in front of him. Her skin looked ashen and dusky and the sight just made him sad.

“Sir?” a timid voice from behind cut through his reverie. “Do you need me here? Pat keeps paging me.”

“Hold compressions for analysis.”

Kendrick spared the teenage girl a glance. She was pale and sweaty, wringing her hands as she watched EMS work on Macy. “No, I’m sorry. You do what you need to do. Thank you so much, you did a good job.”

The girl blinked.

“V-fib, charging to two hundred!”

“I hope she’s okay,” she squeaked out, turning red as she hurried past.

“Hold compressions, everyone clear! Shocking!”

Kendrick looked back at Macy, his hand coming up to rake down his face. Macy’s body jerked again, but compressions continued soon after, this time with Mohinder performing them.

“Dona, go ahead and intubate her. Val, administer epinephrine in one minute.” Crystal reached over and unbuttoned Macy’s pants, pressing her fingers to her femoral pulse. “Good pulse with compressions.”

Crystal crawled down to Macy’s feet and pulled off her shoes and socks. “Found the exit, nasty burn on the bottom of her left foot. Good job everyone, keep it up. We analyze again in thirty seconds.”

Dona had a laryngoscope in Macy’s mouth and was sliding an endotracheal tube down the blade. She retracted the laryngoscope and set it to the side, plugging her stethoscope buds in her ears and attaching the bag to the tube.

“Analyzing… v-fib. Charging to three-sixty. Val and Mohinder switch! Are you in, Dona?”

Dona squeezed the bulb with one hand and listened through the bell of the stethoscope with the other, moving it from one side to the other.

“I’m in,” she said. She quickly adjusted the bite block, inflated the cuff, and secured the tube with tape.

“Everyone clear! Administering shock!” Macy’s torso jerked, her limbs flinching a split second later. Val straddled Macy, leaning over her to pump the younger woman’s chest. “Still in v-fib. Mohinder, administer epinephrine and three hundred milligrams amiodarone. I’m going to go ahead and see if we can get authorization for another unit to head this way for double sequential defibrillation.”

Macy’s body remained senseless to the onslaught. Her breasts and head wobbled, her ribcage sank and recoiled, her stomach rippled. Her arms and legs even moved gently, swaying to the rhythm of the compressions.

“Sir?” The young man from earlier was approaching, his hand held conspicuously against the side of his face to block Macy from view. “Sir, I was listening, and… d-do you want me to run back to the front gate? Is there going to be another ambulance?”

“Please do,” Crystal said before Kendrick could respond. She had her phone to her ear, waiting for someone to answer. “You did a good job with us.”

Kendrick nodded. “What’s your name?”

“Mùchén,” he said. “Liu Mùchén.”

“Liu Mùchén. Thank you so much. Please, wait at the front gate for another ambulance. Be careful. Call your dad when you have a minute, he will want to know what happened to you today. He also might want you to get another job.”

The boy nodded and took off running.

“Yes,” Crystal was saying into the phone. “Three shocks, three doses of epi and three hundred milligrams of amiodarone have been administered. Electrical shock, current went through her. Witnessed collapse, quality CPR the whole time. Cop saw it happen; nurse helped before we arrived.”

She paused, then said: “Exactly what I was thinking. You’ll arrange? Already on their way? Two minutes. Thank you!”

She hung up the phone as Mohinder said: “She’s still in v-fib. I just charged to three-sixty.”

“Thank you, Mohinder. Dona, get ready to switch with Val. Everyone clear! Administer the shock!” Kendrick tried not to flinch when Macy did. “Pulse check!”

Mohinder pressed his fingers into Macy’s neck, Dona into her wrist, and Crystal into her femoral. Ten seconds passed.

“No pulse, everyone agrees?” The group nodded, and Crystal called out: “Continue chest compressions. I’m going to administer one hundred fifty amiodarone.”

“Officer Johnson!” Kendrick looked up past the ambulance and saw Mùchén leading a couple of uniformed officers in his direction. He threw Kendrick a wave and then turned and took off running back toward the front gate.

“Maines, Stamey,” Kendrick said in acknowledgement as they approached.

“Gardner sent us to check on you,” Maines said, raising her eyebrows. “Said the vic is your girlfriend or something?”

Stamey elbowed her and muttered something under her breath that sounded like “You have the sensitivity of a rattlesnake.”

“She’s not doing well,” he said, shaking his head. “They just called for another ambulance and permission for some kind of procedure. Listen, do you mind taping off this whole area? That sign is what electrocuted her. Don’t touch it, be very careful.”

“Sure,” Stamey said nodding. “We can do that. I’ll keep an eye on it while Maines goes back for the tape.”

“Joke’s on you, Stamey,” Maines said as she turned away. “I need more steps to hit my goal.”

Kendrick tuned them both out and took a few steps toward Macy. Crystal the paramedic had opened up another set of pads. “We’re gonna try a vector change. before the other crew gets here. Anterior posterior position. Pause compressions.”

She quickly smoothed one pad on the front of Macy’s chest. Val and Dona slid their hands under Macy’s shoulders, while Mohinder stabilized her head. They heaved her upright. Her head would have rocked forward if Mohinder didn’t have hold of it.

It was disconcerting, to watch someone he cared about flop around like that, with no tone in their entire body. Crystal applied a defibrillator pad to Macy’s back, and then they laid her flat again. Dona immediately restarted chest compressions, leaning into Macy’s sternum with her full weight. Crystal swapped the leads. “Pause compressions, analyzing. Okay, as expected, she’s still in v-fib. Charging to three-sixty.”

“Everyone clear! Administering shock!” Macy’s body seized up for a split second, then relaxed. “Pulse check!”

He watched them all check her pulse again, his fingers mentally crossed behind his back.

Maines sprinted back into view, a roll of yellow “Caution” tape in her hands. “Ambulance crew is just behind me, there was a little problem with the dumbass who owns this place. I solved it, and they gave me this so I wouldn’t have to go all the way to the parking lot.”

“Pat did what?” Kendrick asked, though his eyes were still on Macy. Evidently whatever they’d tried hadn’t worked; Mohinder was crouched beside her, pumping her chest.

“Alright, administering epi, sounds like our second crew will be here any minute!”

Maines handed the tape to Stamey. “Yeah, that dumbass was trying to stop the ambulance from driving in. Said something about the weight ruining his pavement. I told him to fuck off. Well, I did so in Community Relations speak. I didn’t actually say ‘fuck.’ He said he was calling his business partner on the City Council. Whatever.”

“That man is a fucking menace to society.” Kendrick realized he was pacing back and forth, and tried to make himself stay still. Finally, he crouched on the pavement, his eyes locked on Macy’s face. Part of it was obscured by the tape and the tube feeding up between her teeth. He couldn’t tell if her skin looked better or worse. He had to presume she wouldn’t look better for a while, if at all. He did see she had something caught up in her coily hair. Trash, or hay. He wished he could get it out for her.

Finally, the second ambulance rolled up behind the first. Kendrick saw Pat stomp up behind it, shouting into a cell phone, his shirt riding up his belly.

“I’m on it,” Maines said, heading to intercept him. “Asshole doesn’t get to come over here and act like that, not when it sounds like this is all his fault.”

“It is,” Kendrick said. “Thank you.”

“…nine, forty! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, fifty! One, two…”

Maines put herself between Pat and the second ambulance crew, and two paramedics ran up to the group with another defibrillator and a duffle bag.

“Tell me later what’s up with that guy,” one of the medics said. “I’m Tim, that’s Will.”

“…seventy-four, seventy-five…”

“I’m Crystal, this is Mohinder, Dona, and Val. You’re here to help us with an approved double sequential defibrillation to treat refractory ventricular fibrillation. Our patient is Macy, victim of an electrocution. She’s had five shocks, four doses of epi, two doses of amiodarone. We have attempted a vector change defibrillation with no change. Mohinder, keep up with compressions while we get set up. You’re using the same model defib, so all I need you to do is connect our original anterior lateral pads to your machine.”

Tim kneeled next to Crystal, reaching for the end of the leads attached to the first defibrillator pads. Thirty seconds later, he said: “We’re ready.”

“Okay, pause compressions while I analyze... Still in v-fib. Continue compressions. Charging both defibrillators to three-sixty. I will operate both machines.” Mohinder forced Macy’s sternum down ten more times, her stomach bulging out with each thrust. “Alright, everyone clear!”

All of the medics pulled back, Val unhooking the bag and lifting her hands.

“Shocking now.” Crystal leaned over with both hands outstretched and pressed the flashing orange buttons on each machine.

Macy’s body bowed up a sixth time, her arms and legs jerking. Dona immediately leaned in and resumed chest compressions.

Kendrick felt himself sag, but then he heard Crystal say: “Stop compressions! Pulse check!”

He lifted his head, watching as Tim, Mohinder, and Crystal all took Macy’s pulse.

“She’s got a pulse, monitor shows sinus rhythm, we have Return of Spontaneous Circulation. Good job!”

Stamey came up and smacked him on the back. “Look at that, Johnson!”

Kendrick felt lightheaded even though he was sitting down, a ridiculous, huge smile blooming across his face.

“Thank you, Tim and Will,” Crystal said. “You may stand down. Thank you again, great job! Dona, I want her on a twelve-lead; I’ll check her blood pressure. Mohinder, go ahead and get her started on fluids. Val, no more than ten breaths per minute.”

Kendrick watched Crystal inflate the blood pressure cuff. He’d managed to restrain himself from asking questions this entire time, but he knew that soon he’d be expected to deal with his soon-to-be former boss, Pat, and he needed to know what was going to happen.

“Hey,” he called out to Crystal. “Ma’am. Do you think she’s going to be okay?”

“Honest answer, officer?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Too early to say for sure, but she’s headed in that direction.”

Kendrick nodded. “Thank you. I understand.”

“Come over here and say something to her,” Crystal said, gesturing for him to come up by her.

“She might hear you,” Val interjected. “She’s making some effort to breathe on her own.”

Kendrick stood up, shook out his legs, and hurried over. He kneeled next to Val, who was watching Macy’s chest as she squeezed the bag. After a brief hesitation, he put his hand on Macy’s naked shoulder.

“Hey, girl.” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat and tried again. “Macy, it’s Kendrick. When you feel better, we gotta go on that next date. Keep fighting, okay? All these good people have your back.”

He couldn’t be sure if she responded to him or to something else, but her teeth clenched on the bite block, and her head tipped slightly to the side.

“That’s it, Macy. We got you.”

#resus writing #cpr resus #female resus #medical drama

30 notes · View notes